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The Roma that traveled through the Highlands every spring were responsible. She’d learned a few other expressions from them, too. The gypsies were a flamboyant, spirited people, who, unlike High Society, didn’t put on airs or speak out of two sides of their mouths. However, they could also be cunning and crafty and most definitely colorful in their speech. Hence pizzle for penis.
Camden did not attempt to hide the upward slant of his mouth at her choice of words. He pulled at his ear lobe, his gaze working over her, a shadow of possessiveness there. “The point is rather moot now, as ye are married to me.”
Awareness swept Bethea, and this time when a shiver tiptoed the length of her spine, aversion didn’t cause it.
“Are ye truly wed?” Branwen whispered in Bethea’s ear, equal parts fascination and astonishment in her tone.
“Aye, but in name only,” she whispered back under cover of the rather intense exchange commencing between Keane, Camden, and Marjorie. “We had nae choice.”
“What will ye do?” Branwen asked, worry darkening her eyes to the shade of the sky before a winter tempest.
Hitching a shoulder, Bethea meshed her lips together. “An annulment after a respectable amount of time has passed to put rumors to rest.” She darted Camden a glance beneath her lashes. “Or a divorce if we canna acquire an annulment.”
“Oh.” Something in Branwen’s voice made Bethea give her a searching look. “And… in the meanwhile?”
Aye, that was the two-ton question. One she and Camden hadn’t discussed. One she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Would Bethea move to Eytone Hall or Camden to Trentwick Castle? Or would they live elsewhere? Or—would they live apart? The latter wouldn’t reinforce the wildly in love ruse, but it would make obtaining an annulment easier if they never resided together.
Surely Camden’s assignments would require him to be absent, perhaps for weeks on end. Just how dangerous were his missions? A chill slithered down her spine, dual venoms of apprehension and worry coiling around her belly.
She didn’t like the idea of him being in danger or taking risks. Even if it were for King and country. But some men thrived on intrigue and peril. Her father, a reckless sea captain, had. And his last madcap escapade had taken his and Mama’s lives.
Was Camden one of those men? One always looking for the next adventure?
Firming her mouth, Bethea searched the archives of her mind. She knew so little about the man she now called husband. Other than he kissed divinely, and there was much more to Camden than the accomplished flirt and rapscallion he presented to the world.
She’d never have suspected him of being an agent for the Crown.
And dinna forget, a confessed marauder and part-time highwayman.
Although supposedly those were guises.
What other secrets did Camden Kennedy have?
Did she really want to know?
“’Tis settled then,” Keane said, though no satisfaction lit his eyes, and no happiness softened his features.
His no-nonsense statement effectively ended Bethea’s woolgathering.
What was settled?
She looked between Keane and Camden, searching for a hint of what she’d missed.
His expression grim, Camden gave a terse nod. “I’d like a word with Bethea before I leave.”
Ah, his meeting with Sir Walter. He’d need to depart soon.
A glance at the ormolu and marble clock atop the fireplace revealed he had plenty of time.
“Of course,” Marjorie agreed as she rose. Smiling broadly, she gave him an exuberant hug. “I cannot say I’m not thrilled that two of my favorite people are now husband and wife. ’Tis another way our clans are united.”
Her eyes grew misty with emotion, and she blinked rapidly.
“Aye, Marjorie.” Camden gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Should I call ye mum now?” Considering he was a year older than she, the question proved ludicrous, but had the desired effect of defusing a degree of tension.
She laughed, and even Keane’s mouth tipped upward.
