Say No to the Duke (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #4) - Eloisa James Page 0,100
that you can’t remember.”
“Never!” Betsy said, turning so that her back was to Jeremy’s front, as if she could defend him with her body.
“He cannot marry you,” Grégoire said flatly. “For all my cousin acts like a beast, he’s a gentleman. A surprisingly ethical one too.” His voice was bitter. “A hero on the battlefield, by all accounts.”
“You would know.” Jeremy looked at his father. “He knew the details of what happened in the colonies.”
The marquess nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” Betsy felt suddenly sorry for Grégoire. But not very much.
“We need to talk,” Jeremy said to Betsy, turning her gently in his arms.
“He can’t marry you, because he genuinely cares for you,” Grégoire said. “I know him. The fear that he might hurt you at any moment would be between you your entire life. You—”
“Enough,” Jeremy said curtly. Whatever was in his gaze made the words dry up in Grégoire’s mouth. Jeremy turned to Aunt Knowe, standing beside the marquess, both of them looking like soldiers waiting for orders. “Thank you.”
Betsy took a deep breath.
She didn’t like the edge in his voice. She didn’t like the feeling that he’d made a decision without her, one that could change the current of her life.
But it wasn’t a fight she chose to have in public.
She slipped her hand into his. “I think you should rest.”
“We will take care of this situation,” Aunt Knowe said. She folded her arms over her chest and gave Jeremy a level stare. “Don’t disappoint me and play the fool.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Jeremy walked beside Betsy, the splitting pain in his head not helped by the loud sound of her boots. It felt as if Grégoire’s valet had slammed him with a brick.
He was beginning to wonder just how far Grégoire had gone to put Jeremy in situations where he might die. Wrapped in a straitjacket, drugged, with no one knowing any better? People died all the time in Bedlam.
He pushed the thought away. His father and Lady Knowe would discover the truth. There was a time when he would have demanded to question the valet and his cousin, trusting no one but himself.
But now he had family.
Betsy pushed him down onto the side of the bed and then kicked off her boots and clambered up onto the bed to sit beside him. “How badly does your head hurt?”
“Like the devil. Betsy—”
“I don’t care how much of a gentleman you are,” she flashed, interrupting. “You’re not allowed to push me away. You would never injure me. In fact, there’s something very odd about his entire story.”
Her eyes were wide and strained. Jeremy reached out, meaning to pull her into his lap, but she shook him off.
“Listen to me,” she said fiercely. “You will never injure me. I won’t allow it. I’ll throw sausages at your head, if that’s what’s needed to wake you up.”
Something resembling laughter rose in his chest.
“You offered for me and I shall hold you to it.” She sounded confident, but a tear slid down the curve of her cheek.
“Bess,” Jeremy said, his throat tight, but she didn’t let him finish. Instead she pounced on him. Clamped her mouth onto his.
He should . . .
The thought slid away. Her tongue slipped into his mouth. She kissed him with heart-aching tenderness.
Betsy put her love, her belief, and her loyalty into that kiss. And her courage, because her heart was hammering a fearful rhythm. “I won’t let you go,” she gasped, between kisses. “Don’t throw me away.” Tears stung her eyes. “You won’t hurt me.” She stopped, unable to find the right words. “You won’t,” she whispered, her throat raw.
“It would rip me apart if I injured you,” Jeremy said. One hand caressed the curve of her cheek. “You understand, don’t you?”
“You would never hurt me if you were in your right mind. If you thought I was an enemy soldier, you might try. I would stop you.” Her voice broke. “I promise that.”
He swooped down, kissing her with so much passionate intensity that a tingle of hope went through her. “I told you that the gentleman in me was burned away by the war,” he growled.
She hadn’t believed him then or now.
He nipped her lip. “For God’s sake, Bess, I’m sitting in the bedchamber of a virgin whom I deflowered before marriage.”
Sure enough, the man looking at her was burning with primitive, raw desire and possession. “I mean to keep you,” he said harshly.