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“Oh.” His mother waved that off, but she blushed. “It was no trouble. Don’t give it another thought—I know how it is when you’re carrying.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Gabriel said, bending to kiss her cheek. He guided Nic up the steps and across the wide porch, trying to keep his pace slow enough that he didn’t look like he was marching her there. She pulled at her arm in his grip, but he didn’t release her.
“Let go of me,” she hissed under her breath. “It’s not like I have anywhere to run to.”
She had a point, so—though he had to fight the fear that he would indeed lose her if he let go—he dropped her arm.
“Low blow,” she commented, “to blame the pregnancy, as if I’m fainting away from your manly seed in my womb.”
He managed not to wince. “I needed an excuse my mother would readily believe—or would you prefer to be still down there, being interrogated about your health and force-fed nutritious food?”
She didn’t reply, making a show of studying the house’s foyer and grand staircase, but he thought she had to suppress a glimmer of amusement at his words. Her humor was never far from the surface, even at her most pissed, so perhaps there was hope for them yet.
“This way.” He led her up the stairs, then up another set, to the top floor. They walked in silence through the sitting area, and he opened a set of double doors, gesturing her in. Pausing to shut the doors and lock them—manual bolts at House Phel, though he could change that, now that he knew what to buy—he took a moment to draw a deep breath and rein in his temper. He’d known this moment would come, but he thought he’d have more time to… what? Charm and seduce her, he supposed.
When he turned, he found Nic had gone to one set of the glass-paned doors that lined the far wall and opened onto the balcony that ran along the back of the house. “It’s private,” he told her, opening the neighboring set of doors and going out. “No one will disturb you out here.”
She opened her own doors and moved out, her expression so neutral he had no idea what she was thinking. “There’s a river,” she said.
“Yes.” He gazed out, too. It was a pretty view, he thought, with the gardens sloping down to the river and the dock. Hoped. He’d wanted her to like it. “I thought you might want a quiet place to read or sew, where you won’t be bothered.”
Without comment, she went back inside, exploring the large sitting area, perusing the shelves of books without comment. She went through the connecting doors to the bedchamber, the attached bathing chamber.
“We don’t have indoor plumbing,” he said into her silence. “So for now we’ll have to have hot water brought up for your baths, but there’s plenty of that to be had, obviously. And we can begin acquiring whatever magical conveniences you like. Just make a list.”
She eyed him, quitting the bathing chamber again. “Only one bed,” she commented.
“Yes. Recall that when I designed these rooms, I thought we’d be returning as husband and wife.”
“Which we are.”
“I thought there’d be a wedding,” he clarified.
She shrugged as if that didn’t matter. “We can have a wedding ceremony now if that will make you feel better. I really don’t care.”
“Nic, I—”
“Spare me your noble excuses, Gabriel.” She began pacing, surveying the details as she went. Paused by the table for two by the fire, set with a pair of wineglasses. “These rooms are very nice. Well suited for me and the things I like.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he replied cautiously, not sure where she was going with this but sure it was nowhere good for him.
“Tell me, when did you begin preparing them?”
He swallowed the sigh of resignation. “When I received the notice announcing your Betrothal Trials.”
She nodded, unsurprised. “Not only desperate, but confident. You picked me out and made a solid plan to achieve your goal. I assume you added details after we met while you waited for the inevitable news that you could pick up your purchase?”
He decided to let that one go. She had a right to be angry, and he’d take the hit. “Yes. Much of the house is not comfortable. I wanted you to be happy, and I thought this suite could be a refuge for you. I’m not sure that particular crime can be counted against me.”
“Not a crime, no, but it points to a pattern. You’re a determined man, aren’t you?”
He folded his arms, bracing himself. “Yes. I have to be. I have responsibilities.”
“To all these people.” She waved a hand in the air. “I see that. It’s good to know.”
“What are you getting at, Nic?”
She spun and paced toward him, not stopping until she stabbed him in the chest with one finger. “Do you want to know why I ran from you, Lord Phel? Fromyou, in particular.”
