Page 46 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Chapter 11

“You’re looking a little peaked, my love,” Richard said, once they were making disgustingly slow progress along the road. A half hour in the company of Matthew Tifton had stretched his patience, but he had managed not only to convey a change of plans to Will, but to keep the old fellow out of the Dalbeys’ way while they loaded the contraband. Keeping pace with their little convoy was a dead bore, but a long ride in Noelle’s company could be quite delightful, if only . . .

He sighed. Clearly, the limits of his patience would be tested further today. He should be concentrating on identifying the traitor or spy, not delivering contraband goods, but the first order of the day—and of his life—was to take care of Noelle.

“You’d be peaked, too, if you were worried sick about delivering the brandy without being caught, and at the same time were forced to spend an eternity pretending interest in plans for a wedding that won’t take place.”

“Tsk,” Richard said. “You haven’t been fulfilling your part of our bargain, I see.”

“Bargain?” After a few seconds’ silence, she said crossly, “I have been thinking about marrying you. The answer still is and always will be no.”

Richard sighed. “You haven’t thought hard enough. I rather expected that kiss we shared earlier to convince you. Shall we try again?”

“Certainly not!” Noelle stared straight ahead, her lips pressed firmly together, her hands clasped in her lap.

“That’s most unfair of you, my love. According to your recent tally, I took too much of a kiss for those pinches. Therefore, you owe me a little kiss to keep things straight.”

“That’s preposterous!” Noelle edged to the other side of the seat.

“I don’t mean to be demanding,” Richard said. “I’ll be content with another pinch instead.”

Noelle clutched the fur-lined cloak around her. “If you mean to harass me, I will wish I had gone in your mother’s carriage.”

“If you mean to repulse me,” he drawled, “I expect I shall wish you had gone with them as well.”

“You are completely at liberty to set me down if you choose.” Noelle sniffed and stared at the bleak countryside.

Richard bit off a caustic retort. Wistfully, he considered and rejected such rough and ready methods as abduction. Once they had delivered the goods in Chichester, he could simply drive off with Noelle in the wrong direction, get her as far away from home as possible, and compromise her beyond all redemption, but she’d probably make a devil of a fuss, and he was damned if he wanted an unwilling or unhappy bride.

Besides, he had to unmask a traitor first and establish Noelle’s innocence.

If she was innocent.

He loved her. He believed in her. She couldn’t possibly be a spy.

Yes, she could. Anything was possible, but Noelle wouldn’t support the current regime—if one could call it such—in France.

But if she wasn’t a spy, why, in God’s name, was she refusing to marry him? Somehow, he would drag the truth out of her. Once he knew what he was dealing with, he might—no, he must—make her change her mind.

After a while, he said, “I got the distinct impression that you enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.”

She gazed stubbornly at the fields and hedgerows. A crow mocked him from the top of a pine.

“In fact, taking the evidence of last night and this morning into account as well, I believe you’re still in love with me.” He held his breath, dreading a denial.

But she didn’t say a word. Her gaze dropped to her hands.

He let the breath out. So far, so good.

“Logically speaking, then—and I know you pride yourself on your rational mind—since you love me, you should want to marry me.”

Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.

Incomprehensible. He was about to throw up his hands when she said in a choked voice, “I can’t marry you.”

She’d said that last night, but he’d dismissed it as meaningless. It seemed he should have been paying more attention. “Why not?”

She shook her head again. “I can’t tell you.”