Page 101 of An Extraordinary Lord

The entire day had been nothing less than a dream, and she hadn’t felt so loved and accepted since her mother died. Perfect. Wonderful. So very happy.

Except…

“I wish Filipe could have been here,” she whispered and nuzzled Merritt’s shoulder with her cheek to hide all traces of sadness. Her brother’s absence was the only gray cloud lingering over an otherwise perfect day.

“He was there in spirit.”

She fiddled with the gold buttons on his waistcoat. “If we ever travel to the Continent, perhaps we can visit him in Portugal.”

“Of course we can.” He smiled against her hair. “He’s family.”

“And now I have your father as family, too.”

“He already thinks of you as a daughter.”

She prayed he was right. Whatever ground she’d lost in the judge’s eyes because of her past, she’d made up for by insisting Merritt continue his legal work, encouraging him to become even more dedicated to the law. Now he was working to do what he’d wanted all along—stop the violence before it happened. He was using his connections to establish a professional street patrol and to press for changes in the laws that would work to eliminate the corruption inherent in the arrest and trial process.

But Merritt still couldn’t care less about the barony.

Neither could she, although society seemed absolutely fascinated with her and would only become more so now that she was a baroness. Her past had been wiped clean when her legal records had inexplicably all gone missing, most likely thanks to Clayton Elliott, who hadn’t been able to hide his grin even as he’d denied having a part in it. As far as the world knew, she’d simply appeared out of nowhere, like so many of the continental aristocracy who had been displaced due to the wars. It allowed her to tell the truth—that she was the daughter of a Portuguese count, albeit an illegitimate one, which only served to make her seem notorious and exotic yet made society keep their distance. Exactly what she preferred.

She tilted back her head in invitation to be kissed. He obliged, giving her a passionate, openmouthed kiss that seared through her all the way to the tips of her toes.

When she tore her mouth away from his to catch her breath, she glanced out the window. “We’re going in the wrong direction.”

He persisted in placing kisses down her neck as his hands stroked her body beneath the fur. “No, we’re not.”

She began to tingle and ache as she always did when he caressed her. As she prayed she always would. “Why aren’t we going to your town house?”

“Ourtown house,” he corrected. “It’s our home now, my love.”

His words sparked a thrill inside her more powerful than all his kisses and caresses…Our home.

“I have a surprise for you first,” he murmured. “A wedding gift.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

He touched his lips to hers. “I wanted to.” Another kiss, this one lingering heatedly until he groaned and pulled away. “So we’d better stop all this or I won’t be in any condition to leave the carriage and give it to you.”

“Good idea.” She slid onto the opposite bench and put the distance of the cold compartment between them. “Because you’re already warm enough, and something tells me that if you grow any warmer,I’llbe the one with my clothes off.”

He flashed her a wolfish grin.

A few minutes later, the carriage stopped. Veronica looked out the window, and disappointment panged in her chest. Her wedding gift washere?

“We’re at the Armory.” She tossed him a dubious glance. “Unless you’re planning on tying me to another chair, I don’t think—”

“Tying you up is tomorrow night’s plan.” He grinned devilishly. “And the night after that, and after that…”

When she opened her mouth to give him the scolding he deserved, he flung open the door and bounded to the ground, then reached back for her.

“Trust me, Veronica,” he said, suddenly serious. “I think you’ll like this gift.”

With a deep breath, she placed her gloved hand in his and allowed him to help her from the carriage and across the outer courtyard. The place felt positively medieval in the snow, its gray stones as ominous as the darkening sky above it, especially when he led her beneath the two portcullises and into the dimly lit entry hall.

When they reached the octagonal room of the central tower, she stopped and stared.

“What on earth…?” she whispered, barely louder than a breath as she stared at the group of women waiting for her there.