“To put limitations on our marriage. I—I would like to start over.”
She glanced up then. The last thing she expected to see was anger, but there was no mistaking that he was angry.
“Could this have anything to do with your sudden change of heart?” The paper dangled from his fingers.
“What is it?” she asked warily.
“Don’t play games with me, Roslynn! You know exactly what it is,” he said tersely.
She matched her tone to his, forgetting for the moment all about reconciliation. “No, I don’t! Where did you get it?”
“On your vanity.”
“Impossible. I changed clothes when I returned from the docks, and that, whatever it is”—she pointed at the paper—“wasnoton my table.”
“There’s one way to prove that, isn’t there?”
He was furious at James’ interference, but mostlyat her. How dared she put him through hell, then, because of a simple note, admit she was wrong? He didn’t want her bloody contrition. He wanted her to want him without exception. And she would have before long. Then, and only then, would he have convinced her that she had accused him falsely.
He stalked to the door and threw it open, bellowing for Jeremy. Either James had slipped her that note at the docks, which was doubtful since Anthony had been close to her the whole while, or James had given it to Jeremy to give to her. Whichever, he wasn’t going to have her lying about it.
When the boy poked his head out of his room down the corridor, Anthony demanded, “Did your father entrust you with something to give to my wife?”
Jeremy groaned. “Hell’s bells, Tony, I thought you’d left. I only just put it…you weren’t supposed to see it,” he finished lamely.
Anthony crumpled the paper in his hand. “That’s all right, youngun. No harm done.”
He closed the door again, frowning at his own stupid assumption. She hadn’t seen the note. That meant bloody hell, and he had just antagonized the hell out of her.
He found her on her feet, her hand outstretched, her eyes glittering with indignation. “I’ll be taking that, if you please.”
“I don’t,” he replied, wincing to hear her brogue, a sure sign of her temper. “Look, I’m sorry if I drew the wrong conclusion. The note isn’t important. What—”
“I’ll determine what’s important. If that was on my vanity, then it was meant for me, no’ for you.”
“Then take it.”
He held out his hand, palm up. When she cameforward and took the ball of paper, he didn’t give her a chance to read it. His fingers closed over hers and he drew her into his arms.
“You can read that later,” he said softly. “Tell me first what you meant by being wrong.”
She forgot all about the note now crumpled in her fist. “I told you—about the limitations. I should never have—have placed conditions on our marrying.”
“True. Is that all?”
He was smiling at her, that melting smile that turned her to honey. “I shouldna have come to you just for the bairn, but I was afraid I’d get so used to having you that nothing else would matter.”
“Did you?” His lips brushed her cheek, the side of her mouth.
“What?”
“Get used to having me?”
He didn’t let her answer, his lips slanting across hers, warm, beguiling, stealing her breath, her soul. She had to break the contact herself. “Och, mon, if you keep kissing me, I’ll never say it all.”
He chuckled, still holding her close. “But none of this was necessary, sweetheart. Your problem is, you’ve taken a bloody lot for granted. You assumed that I would have let this don’t-touch-me stand of yours go on indefinitely. Not so. You also seem to think that I would have abided by any rules whatsoever that you set down for this relationship. Wrong again.” He softened this news with another deep kiss before continuing. “I hate to disillusion you, sweetheart, but you get away with your outlandish demands for only as long as I allow you to. And I would have allowed you only a few more weeks, no more, to come to your senses.”
“Or?”
