Page 116 of Scandalous

She looked at him uncertainly. “Is that a bad thing?”

He shook his head, suddenly serious. “I don’t know, but I am the same. I wanted to settle and live the life of a country squire, but I think that deep down I knew I would not be happy. I can never stop what I do, Sarah. It is almost like I must do it.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “You do not need to explain, Martín. I think your calling is a noble one. It is a big part of why I love you. Besides, it will fit well with my own plans.”

“What did you say?”

“I said your plans would—”

“No, before that.”

“You mean when I said ‘I love you’?” She caressed the mark on his arm that was as much a part of him as his beautiful eyes or muscular body.

He grabbed her so tightly that he squeezed all the air from her lungs.

“Yes, that was it,” he muttered.

“Martín?” she gasped.

“Oui?”

“I think perhaps I should breathe for a few moments.”

He released her abruptly. “Mon Dieu! I have hurt you?”

“Don’t be silly. You merely squeezed me a little. That doesn’t mean you should stop holding me.”

He slipped one arm around her and pulled her down on the bed beside him, and she rested her head on his chest.

“When I saw you in my cabin I believed that meddler Ramsay was responsible,” he said, his voice rumbling beneath her.

She laughed. “It was Mr. Beauville who actually arranged most of it. Lord Ramsay knew about my plans, of course. After reading your letter I went to find Daphne. She told me Hugh had taken a quick trip to Eastbourne, ostensibly on some ship-related business. Once I told her what had happened, she was furious and came with me to find him. She gave Hugh a very bad time, I’m afraid.”

Martín crowed with laughter. “Ramsay deserves all the abuse he gets. I’m stunned he was able to keep his mouth shut about everything. He is terrible at keeping secrets. As for Beauville . . . That rascal. I never would have thought he had it in him.”

“I think Mary may have changed him.”

“Eh?”

“Mary, his wife.”

“Oh. Is that her name?”

She slapped his arm. “How could you forget? They are living in your house, Martín.”

He grunted again. “Perhaps not for long. He has saddled me with that idiot Butkins. He may need to be punished.”

She sat up and glared at him. “You wouldn’t.”

“I might,” he demurred, regarding her from beneath heavy lids.

She shoved him in the chest, which did nothing except elicit a tiny smile. “Perhaps you will need to persuade me to show mercy. I think you know how.”

“You are incorrigible. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He rolled his eyes. “People seem to tell me almost nothing else.”

“I did. I told you that I love you,” she argued, staring at his mouth—which had given her so much pleasure a short time ago. Her inner thighs heated, and she couldn’t look away.