“Right, um, yes.” She huffed out a breath. “Anything we do will be pretend. I’m not actually allowing you to take any liberties with me.”
He recoiled. “Of course no’.”
She scowled. The tosser could have the decency to appear disappointed.
“And you won’t engage in any gossip about me after the… ruination.”
“Do ye think I have time to blather like a bunch of ladies at tea?” He snorted. “Is that all?”
“No, it isn’t.” She pursed her lips as she exhaled, drawing strength. “I typically try to not be noticed, so this will be difficult for me.” His eyes had drifted from hers and were now fixed on a point somewhere around her shoulder, but she pressed on. “So it won’t do for you to be impatient, or—or pushy, or—will you at least look me in the eye when I’m speaking to you!”
He still kept his gaze averted. “I would, but there’s a spider in yer hair.”
Violet had never been athletic, and her former dancing instructor would have been disappointed by how she’d swatted at her loose hair as she leapt at Callum’s chest. “Get it off!” she shrieked as she shook her locks violently, pins flying and clattering on the stone floor.
“Easy, lass,” he crooned, and—much to her surprise and annoyance—she stilled, noticing the broad arm that he’dwrapped around her waist to hold her close. The thick fingers of his other hand moved with surprising grace through the curls by her temple. At least she assumed so because she’d squeezed her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to forget she wasin a dungeon with a spider in her hair!
“Got him,” he said. “Want to say hello to yer friend?”
She peeled one eyelid open. The “friend” in question was smaller than her fingernail but still looked deadly. “He isnotmy friend.”
Callum tsked. “That’s no’ nice.” He released her from his arm, and another shudder ran through her. Gracious, she’d enjoyed being held like that. Perhaps she’d be willing to suffer through another spider assault if it meant—
No. That was precisely the kind of romantic thinking that would make their agreement more complicated. Yes, Callum was objectively nice to look at, and apparently he would battle arachnids for her. But she’d need to keep him at a distance, lest her heart believe there was something more between them. She smoothed her skirt and shook her hair out of her face. She most certainly looked a fright. “I’ll try to be friendlier to the next spider I see.”
The humor had not fled his expression when he met her gaze. “So if I understand your expectations,” he ticked off on his fingers, “no real touching, no gossip, and treat ye kindly while I destroy yer reputation.”
It sounded so ridiculous when he said it that way. “And I’ll make sure you get the investors you need.”
He extended his hand, and she shook it, his wide palm engulfing hers and surrounding her with sudden warmth. “For what it’sworth,” he said, “ye didnae have to ask me to do those things. I would’ve treated ye well, no matter what.”
She gave him a weak smile over her shoulder before ascending the twisting stairs out of the dungeon. “You’re a rare find then, Mr. Hawthorne. It will be a pleasure being ruined by you.”
Chapter 11
“Storms move along quicklythis time of year,” Bridget advised her guests with authority as she gathered everyone in the music room after luncheon the following day. Clouds the color of faded bruises had pressed in and hidden the Yorkshire skies, threatening to unleash a torrent of rain at any moment. “I have a wonderful idea to wait out the storm.”
“Not charades, I hope,” her husband called from his seat at the piano.
Violet stiffened where she sat on a settee. The thought of standing up before a room full of people, being watched and pointed at, the center of their scrutiny… She shoved her hands in her pockets and prayed silently to whatever merciful deity was listening that another option would be tossed out.
Bridget shot him a glare capable of freezing him to the spot. “Seeing as you are terrible at keeping quiet, charades does not seem to be your strongest suit.”
The earl’s eyes sparkled with affection. “I can’t help being a dreadful actor.”
His wife released a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, then. Any other ideas?”
As Valebrook bantered with Bridget, Callum stepped into the room and leaned against the doorway. He scanned the assembled guests with a critical eye, coming to a rest on Violet. She sat up straighter, returning her attention to her hostess as the urge to giggle pulled at her lips. She was far too old and carried too much experience to feel such girlish things in the presence of a man.
An excruciatingly attractive man. A man set toruin her.
Yes, her plan for self-ruination was ludicrous, a last-ditch effort to extract herself from a loveless future of matrimonial misery. She hadn’t intended on his agreeing to help, nor for her to see him as…
A friend?
Yes, Callum was her friend, in a strange sense. Someone she would have to trust if she wanted to be free of Sir Phineas. But friends did not dream of other friends the way she had the night before. She supposed it was a proper punishment for reading a lurid novel before falling asleep, but when her unconscious mind delivered Callum to her bed, his large hands pushing up her nightdress before covering her with his body,takingher—
“Hide and seek!” one gentleman cried, and the room dissolved into hoots of laughter.
