Royal Regard

Chapter Twenty-Two, Part 3

He wasn't sure what to say when she grumbled, twisting her fingertip around one of his waistcoat buttons, "I don't like my own husband selling me off like a sack of flour."

This experience he kept having with her was devastating; never knowing, one meeting to the next, how to do something so basic and innate as seducing a woman. Bella was still snuggled up with him, still smoothing her hand over his shirt front, still tucking her face underneath his chin to keep him from seeing her blush, but there was only one right way out of the trap she had set, and he wasn't sure what it was.

Most gracious God, we humbly beseech thee...

"Don't be silly. I paid for a sack of diamonds." He kissed the top of her head, waiting for the inevitable outburst. When it didn't come, he continued, tentatively, "Diamonds of the first water, I might add."

She slipped the top button of his waistcoat in and out of its mooring. "I will never in my life be a diamond of the first water."

It was excruciating to be so regularly tested—surely by vengeful goddesses—with the emotional vulnerability of a woman, which he'd never really cared to understand. It was more than a wrench to admit the lack in his code of honor. He had no idea how to keep her happy, but for the first time in his life, it mattered.

"Come now, you know I could have bought a thousand wives in an Arabian bazaar for the price I paid for you. And I would still have my herd of camels and my flock of goats."

She snorted, "Goats. You have the most ridiculous notions."

He put a finger across her lips. "And given my rather extensive investment, I think it only right to question why you are here alone. Your husband and I agreed—"

"Stop," she declared, as she pulled herself away, "Stop." She held her hand up to keep him from saying another word. "Any variant of 'your husband and I think it best,' will see me leave for Saltash tonight and never speak a word to either of you again."

Nick wisely stopped talking, so she scooted back over to him, curling her hand under his arm, grasping his sleeve. He buried his face in her hair, and she mumbled into his waistcoat, "Myron said you were nursing a broken heart, but you two have been as thick as thieves and might say anything to get your own way. There is no reason a man like you would be heartbroken over me." She sounded only the slightest bit hopeful, which saddened him, but for the chance to soothe her with his hand across her shoulder, and a small kiss on her forehead.

"You know perfectly well Huntleigh won't lie to you about me; I can't tell you how many times I've asked." While part of him wanted to give Huntleigh a smack for implying Nick was vulnerable, he felt one of the cracks in his heart healing. "And my lady, if you wish to retain my favor, you will have to stop saying, 'a man like you.' Otherwise, I will think you far too familiar with incurable rogues."

He kissed the top of her head again as she giggled, "You are incurable. But that is not what I meant at all."

"Indeed?" He tipped her chin up. "You don't think me a rogue?"

"Oh, you are a rogue, Sir." Her eyes danced. "I'm afraid there is no question of that."

"Excellent. I would hate to think I was gaining a reputation as a milksop."

"No... of course not..." Her dancing eyes stopped twinkling, as though a partner had stepped on her foot, and her face took on the hue of a radish. "I just meant... someone so... you know..." She dropped her eyes and allowed herself a very slight whimper.

He gave no quarter. "Someone so what?" he teased. "Important? Dignified? Noteworthy? Irrefutably Ducal?"

She tipped her head at the teasing note, questioning his intent, and finally, when he could no longer hold in the laughter, pushed his arm, almost toppling him off the couch, resulting in naught but a deeper belly laugh.