Page 115 of Souvenir Heart

“Still curious that he offered such a large sum for your return.”

“I’ve explained. Even if he intended to pay it, it’s but a fraction of what I have in Switzerland.”

“Come to think on it, perhaps I should marry you for your money.”

“As if I’d let you.”

He kissed her more deeply, his tongue tracing the shape of her lips, then said, “I confessed I knew nothing about your finances. I’d simply fallen madly, hopelessly in love with you.”

“What if he starts telling people we’re actually married?

“You make that sound like such a terrible fate.” He gave an aggrieved sigh. “I’ve been an elusive and intentionally ill-mannered bachelor for over a decade. You’re a foreigner. I doubt the ton will care. But if they do,” Marcus sighed again. “Then I suppose you’ll just have to make an honest man out of me.”

She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Impossible.”

He took both her hands in his, both his expression and his tone when he spoke utterly serious. “And yet, I honestly love you, Marguerite de Rouvroy.”

It was her turn to sigh. She loved him best when he dropped his various masks and let his romantic passions shine through. Wrapping her hands around the lapels of his embroidered waistcoat, she pulled him close. “And I you, Marcus Tyndale. So much so, that I might someday pledge my troth to you. But for now, I’m content to love you and belong to myself.” She kissed him then, long, and deep, their tongues intertwining, their bodies melding.

Their hands began to drift to buttons and laces. Marguerite gasped. “Grenville.”

Marcus’s eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocused, “Haven’t the slightest desire to strip off all his clothes and make love to him on that table…” His gaze drifted suggestively over her shoulder.

She pulled her hand out from under his untucked shirt, placed both firmly on his half-buttoned waistcoat. “What did he say?”

“You know, if there’s one thing you have in common with your father, it’s dogged determination.”

“Grenville.”

Marcus sighed with real regret. “He damned my eyes. Told me I was making a hash of his plans. That I was no gentleman. And—mind you, this is his lordship’s language, not mine—that I was placing lust over the security of country.”

“Marcus, I’m so sorry…”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Ah yes, and that I needed to return to you to your father forthwith if I wanted to keep my honor and my job.”

“Forthwith,” she repeated, the harsh English consonants awkward on her tongue. “Did you tell him we were married?”

“I did. Not surprisingly, he was a tad more skeptical than ton cher papa. No doubt he’s using his networks to determine the truth of the matter even as we kiss.” He lightly brushed her lips with his.

“And if he does?”

Marcus shrugged. “He’s unlikely to cause a scandal. He dislikes anything that draws public attention to any member of the team, even former ones. Most likely he’ll lock the information away in a drawer in case it might come in handy later…”

“Wait a minute,” she held up a hand. “Go back a moment, if you please. You said former members of the team. What precisely do you mean by that?”

“Ah, the perils of a lover who is as clever as she is beautiful…”

“Do not attempt to distract me with flattery. Also, didn’t you say you wanted me to make an honest man of you?”

“You are beautiful,” he protested.

Marguerite narrowed her eyes at him. “The truth, if you will.”

“Grenville told me that if I didn’t annul the marriage and return you to your father, I should consider my work for the crown terminated.”

“Would he really do that? Make you give up your work? Over me?” Also, despite her mounting alarm, Marguerite couldn’t help asking, “Can you annul a forgery?”

Marcus waved away her questions. “I told him to mind his own damned business.”