Page 35 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“Nae. Ye are mad tae think I would agree tae that. I will nae kiss ye twice a day,” she exclaimed, her quick temper on full display as she rejected his demand.

God, how he loved the way her brogue strengthened when she was irritated with him. It was enough to make him want to kiss her now, simply to hear her sputter with outrage before she surrendered to him. Valeran smiled with complacency, his eyebrow quirking upward.

“Then it would appear we are back to square one.”

“I will agree tae…one kiss a week,” she said with great reluctance, but he shook his head.

“While I would prefer two, in the sprit of compromise, I’m willing to accept one kiss a day, but nothing less.”

At his emphatic statement, a soft sound of fury echoed out of her. When she muttered an unladylike oath beneath her breath, Valeran struggled to refrain from laughing. She bobbed her head in a sharp nod.

“I agr—”

“And you will welcome me into your bed chamber on our wedding night,” he quickly added.

“Ye are the devil himself,” she hissed fiercely.

“Perhaps, but you’ve not agreed to my terms.”

While Valeran couldn’t see her expression, her stance declared she was ready to cleave him in two if given the chance. Once again, he was forced to suppress his amusement.

“I agree tae one kiss a day, and I will let ye into my room on our wedding night,” she bit out, then rushed on to add one final tweak to their bargain. “But ye will nae be allowed to seduce me that night, either. I will decide when tae let ye bed me, and I will nae agree tae your terms without your word on that.”

His gaze swept across her lushly curved shadow. How in the hell had he gone from asking for her friendship to negotiating when she would enter his bed. Ruefully, Valeran knew he needed to yield to her on this last condition of their agreement. He’d already forced her hand to ensure she married him, refusing to give way to this particular concession would only deepen her loathing for him. A gentle hand would work better with Amalie than an autocratic manner. Valeran nodded.

“Agreed. You will decide when we share a bed.”

But I’ll use every kiss you grant me to tempt you into asking to share my bed, my fiery little mouse.

The silent vow suddenly filled him with almost as much anticipation as the thought of having her in his bed. With a slight bow in her direction, he headed for the door with more than just triumph tightening his muscles. Anticipation and elation accompanied the emotion as he acknowledged how much he was looking forward to making Amalie his countess.

It would take more than one kiss a day to cajole his bride into sharing his bed, but he relished the thought of unveiling all of Amalie’s layers. In fact, he would enjoy every minute of it. He grinned as his hand wrapped around the cool crystal doorknob.

Tugging the salon door open, he quickly schooled his features into an unreadable mask the instant he saw dark shadows gathered in the abbey’s main hall. Almost as if choreographed, the shadowy figures turned toward him at the same time. It appeared the entire Rockwood family had gathered to learn the outcome of his proposal to Amalie.

Valeran hesitated, his limited eyesight making it difficult to find his bride’s parents. A tall man took a step forward, only to be restrained by a hand gripping his arm. The moment he recognized Lady Patience’s full-figure, he knew the kilt-clad man beside her was the Laird of Crianlarich. With an abrupt bow, in the couple’s direction, Valeran cleared his throat.

“After a somewhat contentious negotiation, your daughter has accepted my marriage proposal, Crianlarich. If you will post the banns, we can be wed in three weeks.”

The couple sagged slightly in obvious relief, and Valeran realized they’d actually been concerned Amalie would refuse him. They’d been right to worry. If not for his ultimatum, he was almost certain Amalie would have done exactly that.

More quiet sighs of relief filled the air. The sound startled Valeran. It hadn’t just been the Laird and Mistress of Crianlarich who’d been uncertain of Amalie’s answer. Forcing Amalie’s hand had been the right decision, but he suddenly wondered if he’d been overly confident in his expectations to secure her quick surrender.

The shadow of the man standing next to the Laird of Crianlarich started to approach him. Without any effort, Valeran recognized the tall shadow of the Earl of Melton. Valeran stiffened. Simply because he and Amalie were to be wed didn’t mean Valeran had any desire to forgive the betrayal he’d experienced last night. Before either Amalie’s parents or Melton could speak, Valeran nodded at his future in-laws.

“If you will excuse me, I will be returning to London on the next train. Send word to Sommerville House when you’ve made arrangements for the ceremony, and I will be there.”

Without another word, he cut a path through Amalie’s family and headed toward the stairs. There were two important things he needed to do before he and Amalie were married. He needed to inform C of his impending nuptials, and he needed to rid himself of Lady Chattfield. The first would simply be a tongue lashing from the head of the Crown’s Secret Intelligence Service. Lady Chattfield wouldn’t be that simple.

Miriam had a vindictive streak, and his engagement to Amalie would bring out the worst in the woman. Lady Chattfield wouldn’t just be livid that she hadn’t been the one to break with Valeran. The woman would seek to extract her pound of flesh at Amalie’s expense. That he wouldn’t allow. A hand caught his arm and pulled him to a halt at the foot of the staircase. He turned his head to stare blindly at the shadow preventing him from climbing the stairs.

“I’ll help you pack,” Jamie murmured. “We need to discuss a certain individual who will cause trouble if the situation isn’t dealt with carefully.”

Relief loosened the tension in Valeran’s muscles at his best friend’s offer of help. With a brusque nod, he acknowledged his friend’s comment, then continued up the stairs.

Chapter 11

No Aunt Louisa,” Amalie said emphatically as she glared at her aunt from her chair in the abbey’s main salon. “I might have tae marry the man, but I refuse tae return tae London until I have nae choice.”