Page 36 of Dangerous

“I’ve not ridden much since I was a child. My brother and I rode in Hyde Park several mornings a week these past months but I don’t suppose it was greatly enjoyable for an experienced rider to accompany me.”

Adam could read the truth without her speaking it. Nobody had done much of anything with her since she’d returned to England other than thrust her into the marriage mart.

He opened the breakfast room door for her, once again taken by how tiny she was. Her head barely reached his shoulder, and he was not a tall man. She turned back when he didn’t immediately follow, her tilted green eyes putting him in mind of a cat.

Adam followed her up the curving staircase without speaking and opened the library door, motioning her into the large book-lined room.

“The books are organized by subject and then author.” He realized the thousands of titles might be overwhelming to a person unused to so many books. “Perhaps if you told me what type of book you enjoy reading, I could help you select a few?”

“I would like something entertaining but not too difficult. As I mentioned, I didn’t have access to English books until I returned.”

“You read Arabic?”

“Yes, but most of the books that came into the—into my possession were in French.”

Adam caught the hesitation. “There is no need to avoid mentioning your past around me. Indeed, I don’t see why you can’t tell the truth to whomever you please.” He strode across the room to the section he wanted.

“You do not care if people know where I’ve been all these years?”

“Why should I?” he asked, scanning the shelves.

“My father was concerned the truth would destroy the family honor.” Her voice came from somewhere behind him. “Aren’t you worried, too?”

Adam smiled bitterly. “No, I am not worried you will destroy the family honor. So the duke knew the truth about your past, did he?”

“Some of it.”

Adam turned to her. “How much?”

“He knew I lived in Babba Hassan’s palace outside Oran. He never asked any questions about my life in the palace or . . . or whether I’d had any children.”

The cowardly bastard. Adam turned back to the shelf, walking his fingers over the titles until he found the one he wanted. He plucked it from the shelf.

“This was a great favorite of mine when I was a boy and I’ve seen the girls reading it at home.” He handed her the somewhat dog-eared book.

“Gulliver’s Travels?” A small line formed between her auburn brows. “I may have read this when I was very young.” Her brow cleared. “Yes . . . I recall, Yahoos! This is an excellent choice. Thank you, my lord.” She reached out to touch his sleeve, as she’d done that day in the phaeton, but stopped herself.

Adam grimaced. They’d been married less than a day and he’d already managed to suppress her natural, affectionate nature. He reached out and took her hand. She wasn’t wearing gloves and her skin was warm and soft, the bones delicate and fragile. He looked down into her flowerlike face but did not know what to say. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips, allowing his mouth to linger. His entire body stiffened at the responsive curve of her lips.

“I will instruct Hill to pull a selection that I think you will enjoy and we shall take them with us. The library at Exham is larger than this but it contains fewer works of fiction.” He released her hand and it fluttered back to her side like a pale butterfly.

Gratitude glowed from her face and overwhelmed him. And filled him with shame.

Adam turned away. “I had better be off if I’m to secure entertainment for this evening.”

It is one night at the theater, he told himself a short time later, as he tooled the phaeton past an overloaded coach. It wasn’t as if he was courting her. It certainly wasn’t as if he believed that an evening spent in his company would make her happy.

It was none of those things. It was common decency. The fact was, for better or for worse, he’d made the woman his wife. It was time for him to cease behaving like a clod and make the very simple arrangement work.

It was his duty to bed her and get her with child as quickly as possible. She could not have the independence she craved until he’d performed his side of the bargain. Her part of the bargain was living free of him.

This was not like his marriage to Veronica. There was no love involved, no feelings at stake.

Adam would do well to remember that. This was not a real marriage; it was nothing more than a business agreement.

Chapter Thirteen

Mia settled onto the soft leather seat and studied her husband. He was immaculate in his evening garb, his expression less contemptuous than usual. He was looking at her, his eyes drifting across her gown. She’d had it made the week following their betrothal, when she no longer had to worry whether her father would approve.