Sin smiled smugly, and tucked her closer. Pulling his shirt over his head this morning had been a tender business with the marks she’d left him, but he loved each ache. “Careful, now. I have plans for my wife tonight. I need her unharmed.”
Winnifred cleared her throat, not meeting his gaze. “Yes. Well.” She removed her cloak and bonnet, handing them to the butler. She patted her hair.“I guess we’ll see about that.”
Sin brushed a curl off her cheek. Indeed, they would.
“I saw Donald today. He seemed to be engaged in a very … impassioned conversation with several of your tenants.”
The back of Sin’s neck prickled. “Did you?” He stretched out his arm and led her to his study. “And what did he have to say? I’d thought he was leaving the area.”
“He said nothing to me.” Winnifred wrapped one arm around her middle, holding her opposite one. “I didn’t stop. He was at the Magee house. It was to be my last visit to distribute food, but I told Jock to keep driving.”
“You were visiting our tenants?” He should have accompanied her. It was his duty, damn it, to help their people. He was pleased she was settling into her new duties so easily, but that didn’t remove the responsibility from his shoulders.
“Yes, and … I need to thank you.” She dug her teeth into lower lip. “I don’t think you realize the kindness you showed me by sending Mr. Fraser the legumes. Asking him to try my … father’s idea.” She stared down at the carpet. “It means a great deal to me.”
“I’m glad.” Sin closed the study door and leaned back against it. “Although I had mercenary reasons for my actions, as well. If your experiment works, it will be a boon to my tenants.” Though it had mostly been to make her happy. Keeping Winnifred in good spirits was quickly becoming one of the most important parts of his life.
She strolled about the room, dragging her hands over the back of the settee, flipping through the pages of a book. “I will have to write my father. Keep him apprised of—”
“Stop.” He pushed off the door. “Let us put an end to this bluff. You weren’t merely your father’s assistant, were you? And this idea does not belong to him.” He waited, impatient, willing her to tell him the truth.
Her back was to him as she spun a globe that sat on the edge of his desk, but he saw her shoulders tense. “I did become … interested in the natural world while assisting my father.” She turned, her expression blank. “But I am your wife now, and a marchioness. Such interests can no longer be indulged.” She blinked, and looked away. “Can they?” she said, her voice small.
“I don’t bloody see why not.” Sin fisted his hands on his hips. Bloody society and their asinine, bloody rules. If poking around in dirt like any other natural philosopher made her happy, she could do whatever she wanted. “As long as you still attend to your duties as marchioness, why not study soil. I have a second job, too.”
Her face lit up before being displaced by that adorable frown she wore when she was thinking too hard. She shook her head. “It isn’t tenable. I can run my experiments here, and I thank you for that, but so much of research depends upon corresponding with other scholars. They replied/reply to me when I write in my father’s stead, signing my name as his assistant. When it becomes widely known that I am married and no longer living with him, I will no longer be able use that pretext.”
Sin stomped to the fireplace and grabbed the poker. He stabbed at a log. “Sign your own damn name.”
“They won’t respond.”
His fists tightened on the metal rod, his muscles flexing, wanting to bend the iron to his will. “They will respond to my marchioness.” Or face consequences. He had friends the world over. Friends who had retired their scruples long ago. One letter, and he could make anyone’s life most unpleasant.
She chuckled, and Sin’s body jerked. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, and it was his threat that had uncovered it. Strange, lovely woman. “Thank you,” she said. “Your encouragement means more than you can know.”
Because that father of hers never gave her one ounce of it. Miserly, terrified mouse of a man. Scared of his wife’s illness so he sent her to her death. Scared of impropriety, so he let his daughter do his work yet took the credit. He poked the log again, and it fell apart into a cascade of embers.
Winnifred’s skirts brushed his leg, and she squeezed his hand. Her skin was warm, and even that small bit of contact soothed his anger. “Especially now when you and the rest of the peerage in Scotland are under such scrutiny, it’s best if I don’t behave out of turn. And any woman, much less a marchioness, running experiments, trying to get published, would attract a lot of attention. None of it good.”
He harrumphed. All right, it would be odd as hell. But not unheard of. Lady Mary Montague introduced smallpox inoculations to England. And Caroline Herschel kept discovering new comets every damn week it seemed. Frankly, he didn’t give his left ballock about appearances. Perhaps it was the Scottish in him, not wanting to bow to English sensibilities. Or the fact he detested Society. If he were snubbed for having an unusual wife, that only meant more time home alone with her.
He rubbed the back of his neck. All the times he’d pictured his future wife, knowing that at some point a man in his position had to start looking, Sin had pictured a sweet, biddable woman. Scottish of course. In his mind, she had been an accessory. Someone to provide an heir and help his life run smoothly.
He cupped Winnifred’s cheek. Never in his drunkest imaginings would he have pictured Winnifred.
Thank God she’d been fool enough to be compromised with him in a wine cellar.
“It isn’t your job to worry about the safety of Kenmore, or me. You live how you want and leave any angry tenants to me.” People could glare at Sin all they wanted; but if anyone said or did one thing to insult Winnifred, they would soon be understanding just how feudal their laird could get. “Besides, if your research succeeds, I don’t think anyone will care who helped the crops grow as long as they have food in their bellies.”
She rolled up onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “I don’t know how I was so fortunate to gain you as a husband. You are the best friend a woman could want.”
His thoughts froze. Friend?
“I am your husband.” He pinched her chin. “I hope we are more than mere friends.”
She patted his chest. “Friends and paramours. A wonderfully sensible combination for a solid marriage.”
She tugged his head down, brought their mouths together, ending whatever objection Sin was about to say.
