Page 51

She was his love.

The keeper of his marauder’s heart. The other half of his whole. He couldn’t regret their forced marriage or a single moment he’d spent with her since.

“Ahem.”

A very exaggerated throat clearing jerked Camden back to reality. He glanced toward the corner of the house. Higgins, red-faced but wearing a sloppy grin, stood there, letters in his hand. “These only just arrived, and I kent ye were awaitin’ word.”

Camden gave Bethea’s shoulder a slight, apologetic squeeze. He’d have explored what this was blossoming between them much further.

She seemed as reluctant as he to separate.

He curved an arm about her waist and gently urged her toward Higgins.

Her cheeks glowed pink, but she gave Higgins a bright smile.

As soon as he’d handed Camden the letter, he touched his forehead and beat a hasty retreat. Every one of the other men would know of Camden’s infatuation with his wife within ten minutes.

And he didn’t give twenty tinkers’ damns.

“Who are they from?” Bethea fell into step beside him, leaning into his side as if it were the most natural thing to do.

Such love swirled inside Camden at the simple, trusting gesture, his throat tightened. His heart lay at her feet, to be trampled, or picked up and treasured. He sure as hell didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve this remarkable woman, but he thanked God she was his.

Somehow, he must convince her to remain so.

He thumbed through them. “Bryston, Keane, and…” He turned the third letter over and missed a step before coming to an abrupt halt upon recognizing the extravagant seal. “The king.”