“Why not ask me what I want?”
“Why not tell me what you want?”
“A conversation.”
“So converse!”
She stared at him a moment before she realized the truth of her own hypocrisy. She had waited for him to initiate the discussions, to give her the answers to her questions, but when had she taken the initiative and demanded what she wanted? Or even asked politely for it?
She felt her cheeks heat as her hands dropped from her hips. “I have never been allowed to ask men directly for what I want.”
“You asked me to marry you.”
Her cheeks heated to flame. “I was desperate.”
“So be desperate now.” He touched her arms. “Iseabail, what do you need from me?”
“What are you plans for when we reach Scotland? How will you…” She swallowed, but forced herself to say the word. “How will you kill my uncle?”
“I don’t know them yet. And I don’t know that I will.”
“But you must!”
“I must defeat him. It is a grave thing to kill a man, even an evil one.”
She nodded. “Will you tell me your plans when you make them?”
“You will help me make them. I cannot do it without you.”
Oh. Good. “Then plan for me to kill my uncle. You need not do it.” She said the words—and she meant them—but they also felt like a lie. She had never killed before, not even by accident. Unless Albie had died from the wound she gave him in Hyde Park.
“That is a discussion for tomorrow. For tonight, tell me what else you are thinking.”
She wasn’t thinking about anything else. It was more that she was feeling anxiety about how they must consummate their marriage tonight. But she couldn’t talk about that yet. Instead, she reached for the stupidest question.
“I finished your letter. Did you read it? Shall we send it?”
“I did not see it. I was too concerned with where you had gone. But I will look at it in the morning.”
“Oh. Good. That makes sense.”
Now he was the one rocking back on a heel, his mouth curving at the corners. Was he laughing at her? It very much looked like it, but not in a mean way. Indeed, he seemed to be as amused as she had been a few moments before.
“Are you, perhaps, wondering about our wedding night?”
She swallowed and looked at her hands. “I am, of course, at your disposal—”
“If you saymy lord,I shall be very cross with you.”
“Sir?”
“Worse.”
He was teasing her, his tone growing lighter with every word.
“I could call you Mr. Bates.”
“That’s my father.”
