“Very well.” He pulled back, suddenly hesitant to hear what she might say. “What are your terms?”
“That ye promise to never again ask me to leave yer side.”
Saints above!Thatwas her only concern?
“Oh, love, I never want you to leave my side…unless, of course, there’s a bomb involved.” He winked.
“But—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t you see, Martha? I could never willingly put you in harm’s way, for you are too precious to me. But I promise you this.” He traced the curve of her mouth then slid his whole hand to encompass the back of her head. “I shall love you solely, fiercely, madly, till the day I die, and may God grant our years be many and long. Does that satisfy?”
For a moment she said nothing, her eyes flashing with a mystery only God could understand.
And then her mouth landed firm and warm against his. “Does this satisfy?” she whispered, then kissed him again.
A million sparks burst into flame, heating his chest, his heart, burning all caution up in smoke. Like a starving man, he pulled her to him, body to body, breath to breath. Why had he waited so long for this? Shewashis! She always had been. He knew that now, tasted it on her lips, felt it in the wild beating of their mingled hearts. Sure, he’d kissed before, but Lord have mercy, never like this.
“Charles,” she whispered as his mouth trailed down her neck.
“Say it again.” His lips moved against the throbbing pulse just beneath her skin. “Say my name and never stop saying it.”
“Charles.” She moaned. “Oh, Charles.”
The willingness in her voice sent a tremor through him from head to toe. Saints above, he wanted her! And miracle of miracles, she wanted him right back.
But not yet. Not like this. Not until they were man and wife.
Pulling away, he rested his brow against hers. “I take it that’s a yes?”
“Aye.” She grinned. “Most assuredly.”
“Good. Then I suppose we shall talk of gowns and cakes and all manner of wedding trifles, but for now—” He stepped away and offered his arm. “I think it best to get you and the children to some place more secure than Mrs. Henny’s.”
Wrapping her fingers around his sleeve, she peered up at him. “Where will we go?”
Now there was a great gaping hole of a question. They obviously couldn’t stay here. He still had dynamite to dispose of! He blew out a long breath. Neither could he deposit this crew on Jackson’s doorstep, for his friend had been the one to entrust the care of his daughter to him. There was always the station, but no. That was certainly no place for children. The church? Again, a cold pew would induce no sleep, especially for a baby. Really, there was nothing to be done save for hastening them away to the only other place he could think of. Oh, what a long and sleepless night this would be.
He patted Martha’s hand as he led her to the door, hardly believing what he was about to say.
“You and the children are coming home with me.”
It had been another sleepless night. A real rip-roaring tug-of-war with the sheets. And now, standing in Graybone’s sitting room, the sun hardly a wood shaving above the horizon, Jackson let loose an enormous yawn—and didn’t care a fig that Graybone cast him an evil eye for it.
“Are we boring you, Forge?” His father-in-law grunted as he worked to shove Mr. Coleman’s arm through the bulky leather body armour. “Come on, Coleman! At least try to put this on.”
“Indeed, Mr. Coleman.” Opposite her father, Kit coaxed the fellow’s other arm into the throat of another sleeve. “You’re not making this easy.”
“It’s too tight! I fail to see how this wadding will help. I’ll be a fat duck unable to move. Ow!” Coleman wriggled like a hare on a spit, knocking Kit backwards. “That’s my sore arm!”
Jackson lunged, grabbing hold of his wife’s wrist before she smacked into the side table. “Watch it, Coleman. That’s my wife you’re knocking about.”
“And my daughter,” Graybone rumbled. “Come on, man! Buck up. It’s either this or we’ll stuff you beneath the carriage seat. And trust me, that hole will be far more constricting than this. Now, let’s give this another go, and no more whining about it.”
Jackson tugged Kit aside, giving the men a wide berth. “Your father’s got this under control. How about you—”
The front bell rang.
“—wait here.” Releasing his hold, Jackson strode to the front hall, hand covering his sidearm in case for some odd reason Carky took a perverse thrill in ringing before killing.
