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He’d redoubled his efforts to woo her, and in the past few days, from the soft smiles and frequent glances she sent his way, his gentle offensive appeared to be working.

“Aye, indeed.” Instead of blushing in chagrin, she flashed him a mischievous smile and bobbed another curtsy. “They dinna seem to care that I dinna have a voice.” She angled her head and spoke to the sheep. “Do ye?”

One bobbed its head, and Bethea burst out laughing. “I dinna ken whether to be insulted or amused.” She caught sight of the trout. “I see yer fishin’ expedition was successful.”

“Aye.” He’d used it as an excuse to walk the estate and check for himself that no one suspicious loitered nearby. In just over a week, they were to return home. Although, he still hadn’t initiated a discussion with Bethea about where, exactly, they would live.

In truth, he wouldn’t mind remaining here, but Glen Toramallan belonged to Keane. Perhaps it was the peace and happiness Camden wanted to last, this false sense of normalcy. He and Bethea had settled into a comfortable routine, very much like a typical married couple.

The single exception was he’d forbidden himself to make any advances toward her sexually. If their marriage were ever consummated, it would be because she initiated it.

Camden wouldn’t have her live with regrets for the rest of her life.

He touched her often, holding her hand on occasion, and dropping a kiss on her forehead every night before she sought her bed. At which time, he sought Brooke Toram’s frigid waters to cool his ardor. He’d never had his restraint so sorely tested before.

He well understood her reluctance, and yet he had no doubt she wanted him. He’d seen her looking at him, recognized the signs of a woman whose passions had been stirred. And yet she held herself back.

She needed more time.

That was the quandary, however. The more Camden contemplated it, the more he’d come to accept that if their marriage were annulled, it needed to be sooner rather than later. A scandal couldn’t be avoided, and the longer they waited to petition for a dissolution of the marriage, the less likely it would be granted.

Divorce remained an option, but those weren’t easily obtained, either.

If nothing else, these past days had confirmed his belief that Bethea was the woman for him, and he wanted her to remain his wife. Time was running out to convince her of that, however.

“Why the long face?” she asked, coming to stand beside him and peering upward.

“Nothin’.” He shook his head. “I was just wonderin’ why we havena had any word from Keane or Bryston. I expected a letter by now.”

“Aye.” A shadow flitted across her face, and her eyelashes fluttered downward. “I’m sure yer anxious to put this behind ye, and accept yer next mission.”

He bent his head near, drawing a startled glance from her. “Nae, I dinna think a married man ought to take such risks. I’ve decided to resign my position.”

“Have ye now?” She bit her full lower lip and adjusted the basket.

Camden couldn’t quite determine what caused the slight catch in her voice and sparkle in her eye. Hope?

He stepped closer until his thighs touched hers through her gown, giving her time to retreat or rebuff him. Instead, she wet her lower lip, and her gray eyes softened in invitation.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Grateful the kitchens were located on the house’s other side, and they weren’t visible from the stables, he greedily took her mouth.

Bethea sank into him, opening her lips and accepting his tongue with an eagerness that stoked his desire higher and higher.

She tasted of raspberries and tea, and her floral scent entwined around him, inflaming his passion into an uncontrollable firestorm. Kissing her wasn’t enough, but with his hands full, he couldn’t encircle her in his arms and press her against the house’s rock side. Couldn’t ruck her skirts up and explore the satiny flesh and rounded curves he’d dreamed of every night.

With a frustrated groan, he raised his head and waved his arms up and down. “I picked a terrible time to kiss ye.”

Her eyes rather dreamy, and her plump lips pink from his kisses, she curved her mouth. “Nae time ye kiss me is terrible, Camden.”

Something in her tone gave him pause, and he shifted the pole to his other hand, awkwardly gripping the fish and pole in one fist. He pulled her to him and savored her mouth again. “I’d do much more than kiss ye every day for the rest of my life if ye’d let me,” he murmured into her hair.

“Wouldna ye have regrets?” Head angled, her perceptive gaze probed his. “I couldna bear that.”

Cupping her nape with his free hand, he shook his head before pressing his forehead to hers. “Nae. No’ a one. Marryin’ ye was the smartest thing I’ve ever done, mo ghaol.”

My love.