“I look forward to the day you do.” Trent was smug. So smug Leo wanted to plant him a facer in that moment. “Then, I will have you repeat that sentiment and see whether or not you still regard it as true.”
“Then we are fortunate indeed, because I will never wed.”
The door to his study burst open in the next instant, before Trent could muster up a response. The Duchess of Trent appeared with his beautiful, raven-haired prisoner in tow.
“I know what must be done,” the duchess announced to the room. “Carlisle, you must marry my sister.”
What in thename of all that was holy?
Bridget gaped at Daisy. At herutterly madhalf sister.
What had she just said?
Surely Bridget had misheard her. For the words she thought Daisy had just uttered made no sense. They were a foreign language she did not speak.
MarryandCarlisledid not belong in the same sentence in relation to Bridget O’Malley. She was already at the mercy of the scoundrel far more than she would have preferred. She would sooner accept prison shackles than bind herself to her enemy.
“I’ll not be marrying that banshee,” Carlisle denied.
“Banshee?” Daisy demanded, sounding outraged on Bridget’s behalf.
“It may be the answer,” the Duke of Trent offered, the only calm voice amongst them.
“No,” Bridget shouted over the din. Eyes swung to her, so she continued. “I do not even like him.”
“You like me, banshee,” he drawled, as arrogant as ever. His eyes glittered with frank remembrance.
And she would be lying if she said she did not instantly recall the wicked sensation of his long fingers stroking her flesh. But she was made of stern stuff, and though he knew his way beneath a lady’s skirts, that did not mean he wasn’t the epitome of English suppression of Ireland.
“Not in the sense a marriage requires,” she parried, before she could think better of it.
His eyes blazed into hers, and she knew she had revealed far too much. She had also taunted him. Tempted him. The Duke of Carlisle was not the sort of man who would allow a challenge to go unanswered, and she supposed she ought to have learned that about him by now.
“I beg to differ, madam. Need I remind you why?”
“Carlisle,” Daisy chastised, her tone aghast. “Tell me you have not compromised my sister.”
That seething gaze descended upon her sister, and Bridget was glad of it. Relieved for the respite. Her heart still thumped madly, and the bothersome heat that rose within her each time she was in his presence refused to cool while he looked upon her.
“She is my prisoner,” Carlisle said, rather than denying Daisy’s request.
“He shot me,” Bridget added.
His scrutiny returned to her, a lone brow raising to mock her. “You were holding a pistol to my nephew’s head at the time.”
“The pistol was not loaded,” the Duke of Trent said in a cheerful tone that almost suggested he was enjoying this.
“Bridget would never have hurt the boy,” Daisy added with a confidence that could not help but touch Bridget’s heart.
She had done nothing to warrant her sister’s steadfast loyalty, but she could not deny it pleased her. “I would never have hurt him,” she affirmed. “I was told to bring him back to London. It was what was asked of me.”
Carlisle’s stare was alert, intense. “Who asked it of you, Miss O’Malley? Give me a name.”
“No.” Daisy stepped before her, fashioning herself a living shield to momentarily block out all sight of Carlisle’s determined glower. “She will tell you nothing until she is protected. I’ll not allow it.”
“Protected,” Carlisle repeated, his tone grim. “And why should I wish to protect the woman I am about to see cast into prison for her crimes against the Crown and her efforts to incite outrages in England?”
“Because the information she possesses is worth far more to you than her imprisonment would be,” Daisy responded calmly. “Bridget has been caught up in these dangerous plots through no fault of her own.”
