She shook her head slowly. “And you want to be one of them.”
“I want to be in politics, yes. But for very different reasons. I want to actually make a bloody difference.” The anger in his own voice surprised him. He drew a deep breath to temper it.
Nicole lifted her eyebrows as she plucked at thebuttons to her pelisse. “Yet you refuse to use the connection to further your career? You’d rather chase me down in France and cart me back to England than publicly admit you’re the grandson of a duke.”
“If I claimed my grandfather and uncle, I’d be no better than the lot of them,” Mark bit out. He stared out the window, contemplating her words. She knew how to rile him. In fact, she was one of the few people on earth whocouldrile him. Once, in the middle of the night after they’d made passionate love and lay naked and tangled in each other’s arms, he’d told her he wanted nothing to do with his English family.
It had been the beginning of the end of their relationship… because that was when her lies had begun. At least the outright ones.
“Who is your family?” she had asked, all wide-eyed and innocent, blinking at him. She’d pretended she didn’t give a damn about money or titles or lineage. And the entire time, she’d known. She had bloody well known who his grandfather was and merely feigned ignorance, like the scheming, lying member of thetonshe was.
Mark met her gaze and gave her a calculated smile. “Seems chasing you down in France and dragging you back to England has an added benefit that claiming my family doesn’t.”
“What’s that?” She shrugged off her pelisse from both shoulders.
He gave her a lazy smile. “I get to make love to a beautiful woman tonight.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nicole woke from her nap when the coach hit a nasty bump in the road. She started and blinked, taking a moment to recall where she was. Her vision adjusted to the closeness and darkness surrounding her. Oh, yes. She was in a coach with Mark, heading back to England for the first time in ten years. She stretched her arms in front of her and let out a long sigh. Life was unpredictable. If, a week ago, someone had told her this is where she’d be, she would have informed them they were mad. Yet here she was, reposing in a rented coach not a stone’s throw from her ass of a husband, of all people.
“Is it nighttime then?” she asked in a sleepy voice, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head.
“Nearly,” Mark replied.
She couldn’t see his features, but his eyes glittered like a wild animal’s in the profound darkness.
She didn’t have to ask to know he hadn’t fallen asleep. He’d been on the lookout for highwaymen or trouble along the roadside. She didn’t want to admit to herself that knowing he was there had made her feel safe enough to fall asleep. She’d had such trouble sleeping night after night in the big bed in her French country house. In fact, as she yawned and stretched more, she realized this long day in the uncomfortable coach was some of the best sleep she’d got in an age. “How much longer to the inn?”
“An hour, perhaps.”
They’d stopped at midday at a roadside inn for a break and to use the conveniences. They’d changed horses and shared a lunch from the large picnic basket Cook had provided. Mark had informed Nicole they’d be staying at an inn tonight and would make it to the ship at Calais by tomorrow night.
Soon after their journey had recommenced, Nicole had fallen asleep against the side of the coach, using her bundled-up pelisse for a pillow. She glanced down at herself. There was a cozy blanket tucked around her. Obviously Mark had got it from his trunk and covered her with it. She couldn’t help but smile. He could be considerate when he wasn’t being a domineering ass. It reminded her of the time when they’d been together and she’d taken ill with an awful head cold. He’d made her chicken broth and tucked her in bed, coming to check on her periodically and feel her head for fever. He’d even mixed up some potent-smelling herbs he’d claimed would cure her. She suspected there was a great deal of garlic involved. He’d had to convince her to drink the vile liquid, and damned if she didn’t feel right as rain the next morning.
Nicole sat up, pushing the blanket down to her lap. She was famished of a sudden. She leaned over to rummage blindly in the basket for more of the bread, meat, and cheese they’d discovered there.
Mark assisted by opening the window to let in the moon light.
“Want some?” she offered as she pulled a linen napkin, the loaf of bread, and what remained of the cheese onto her lap.
“Yes, thank you.”
“How long have I been asleep?” She handed him a clump of bread and a lump of cheese wrapped in a second napkin.
“Hours.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about her trouble sleeping, but what good could such a story serve?
“Did you nap too?” she ventured.
“No.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“I learned a long time ago to live without much sleep.”
“I wish I could learn,” she mumbled.
