CHAPTER SIX #2
He reached around her and snagged a blackberry from her plate, the same as she’d tried to do to his. Instead of eating it himself, though, he placed it to her lips, which were now parted softly as she tried to remember to breathe.
She opened her mouth and allowed him to set it on her tongue, then closed her eyes as she slowly bit into it and let the juicy sweetness cover her tongue. The casual gesture reminded her so poignantly of how relaxed they had once been around each other, how completely at ease.
But now, her spiking pulse belied that ease.
“Mrs. Swenson’s final costs always end up being at least twice her estimates, and I don’t want your wedding day to be ruined by having to haggle over the bill.
If you tell her three hundred pounds up front,” he explained, “you’ll receive three hundred pounds worth of gown.
If you don’t set a limit, she’ll bill you for a thousand. ”
She glanced at him over her shoulder and was struck again by how tall he was, how broad and hard, how handsome…
How close he stood when she needed to keep her mind clear, this morning of all mornings.
So she swallowed and faced him, with her breakfast plate raised between them like a poor battle shield.
He had a very good point, but she couldn’t resist arguing. “Five hundred pounds for my dress.” It wasn’t the money that mattered. It was the principle. Yet she reasoned, “I’ll be able to wear it again when we go to London, thus saving you fifty percent.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Accounting doesn’t work that way.”
“I wouldn’t know.” She feigned her most innocent expression, complete with fluttering eyelashes. “I’m not allowed to oversee any of the household accounts, remember? Mr. Putnam was quite clear about that. His Grace pays all the bills.”
His mouth twisted. “Fine. You can oversee the household accounts. Just remember what I said about merchants attempting to overcharge their local duke and duchess.” Then he hesitated before bartering, “Four hundred pounds.”
“Four-fifty,” she countered.
“Agreed. But not one ha’penny more.”
She stifled a smile. “Perhaps one ha’penny or two…thousand more.”
He chuckled at her teasing. The pleasant sound reverberated into her and drew a full laugh from her lips.
Being with him like this was so much like old times.
They used to verbally spar all the time, and heavens, how much she had enjoyed it!
She had forgotten how good it felt to simply be with him, even doing nothing more than arguing.
That was the secret to a good partnership, she knew.
The best marriages weren’t the ones in which no one argued.
The best marriages were the ones in which both spouses argued well.
“It’s for you, too, you know,” she reminded him. Her voice was suddenly husky, and not because she’d been eating berries.
He crossed his arms and gave her a knowing look, even as he plunged into battle by rising to the bait. “How are wedding dresses and female accoutrements for me, exactly?”
“Because you have to look at me in them.” She shrugged a shoulder as if that were obvious.
“Wouldn’t you rather look at me in something pretty?
” Before he could answer, she hurried on, “She’s also finishing my trousseau and supplying all the items my wardrobe is currently missing.
” She lowered her voice and temptingly added, “I’m certain she’ll include several new night gowns, including a special one for our wedding night…
if she doesn’t spend the entire budget on only the wedding dress, that is.
” She paused. “Unless you’d prefer I keep wearing that old cotton thing from last night. ”
He froze, for a moment not moving, not even to breathe, as he stared down at her.
“I’m taking your silence as a firm five hundred from you, then,” she announced.
Smiling smugly, she moved past him to return to the table.
But he grasped her elbow from behind and stopped her. He lowered his mouth over her shoulder to her ear. “Be assured, Helena, that you always look beautiful, even in old bits of cotton.” She caught her breath as he wantonly teased, “Perhaps even when wearing nothing at all.”
Releasing her arm to leave her standing there, momentarily stunned, he grabbed a sweet roll from the buffet and walked back to the table.
Helena thought she saw a triumphant smile at his lips before he sank his teeth into the pastry.
He didn’t sit but stood behind his chair as he ate the roll, then picked up her list of stipulations.
He mumbled around the bite in his mouth, “Rules of engagement, hmm?”
“Non-negotiable.” She set down her plate at the chair next to his and sat before her weakened knees could give out, but she was no longer hungry. Her belly was too full of butterflies. “Just as your terms were at the solicitor’s yesterday.”
Yet their separate lists had one significant difference. Her rules weren’t meant to stifle his role in the marriage. Hers were designed to make Gabe find happiness by becoming a true father to Alice.
He looked up at her. “Rule one…we must eat dinner together?”
“Every night.” She smiled sweetly at him. “But you have the right to choose the menu if you’d like. I’m certain Cook and Mrs. Brimley would be happy to discuss the courses with you.”
He gave that the roll of his eyes it deserved and dropped his attention back to the list. “We must have breakfast with Alice—”
“Starting tomorrow, here in the breakfast room. Just the three of us—and Lady Verity, if she would like.” She clarified pointedly as she reached for the pot of chocolate, “No Nanny Potts.”
“That point I won’t argue with,” he muttered. He paused. “Must tuck Alice into bed ourselves every night?”
She carefully poured the chocolate into her bone china cup. “And read her a story.”
“That I must teach her how to ride a horse and to—” He cut himself off, blinking. “I have to teach her how to fish?”
“Yes.”
He asked, deadpan, “And who teaches me?”
She fought not to smile. “The point isn’t catching fish. It’s spending time together.” She leveled him a no-nonsense look as she set down the pot. “Riding and fishing, along with taking walks and going for picnics, although that one can be reduced to every third day, I would imagine.”
“I won’t have time for picnics. Construction on the new bridge starts soon.”
“And yet you must still eat.” She shrugged and brought her cup to her lips with both hands, elbows resting unladylike on the table. “If you can’t come to the picnic, then we’ll bring the picnic to you. I’m certain Cook will be happy to send along biscuits and goodies for all the workers, too.”
He wisely said nothing to counter that and continued, “That I spend time with you doing at least one activity of your choosing each day.” He tossed the list onto the table. “Unless your choice of activity is hauling stone and wood for bridge supports, then I think you’re out of luck.”
“You told me you were a convenient bride,” she reminded him, repeating his words from the solicitor’s office. Then she muttered into her chocolate, “Perhaps not so convenient a bride after all.”
He folded his arms. “You’re serious? You are honestly laying out these stipulations to our marriage contract?”
“Every. Last. One.” She punctuated that with a clank of her cup on its saucer.
A low chuckle rose from him, although Helena couldn’t have said whether his amusement was aimed at her or her demands.
Clearly, he thought they were ludicrous.
Perhaps they would seem so to someone who didn’t know the motives behind her machinations.
But she knew exactly how important each was.
Her marriage was no longer about saving her family. It was now about saving Alice.
And to do that, she first had to save Gabe.
“Fine. But don’t blame me when the dressmaker chases you down to demand additional payment or when our picnics and riding lessons are interrupted by stone masons and carpenters.
” He reached for the small dish of blackberry jam, dipped his knife into it, then faintly marked his initials across the bottom of the paper with its pointed tip. “Agreed.”
He handed the paper to her.
She grimaced at his improvised signature. “I could have found a quill and ink, you know.”
“Yes, but this way I’ve got a good chance of birds stealing it during one of your picnics and devouring all evidence I ever agreed to that list.”
Not a list. His salvation. “No such luck.” Yet she gave him a victorious smile. “Our agreement starts this afternoon. Alice and I will meet you at two o’clock at the village church for a walk after lunch.”
Relieved that she’d won this battle, if still a long way from winning the war, she folded the list and tucked it inside her bodice for safekeeping, as she did with most notes when she wasn’t near her writing desk.
She looked up and froze. He’d watched her hand go to her bosom, and now his stare heated through her as it lingered on the swells of her breasts, despite the modest neckline of her morning dress.
A tingling stirred at her toes. Was he remembering the way he’d kissed her last night and those caresses he’d stolen?
Heaven help her…did he want to kiss her again?
God knew she wanted exactly that. But she also had to be careful.
Weddings could be called off at the last moment, vows never taken, all promises of a future together destroyed…
She knew that more than anyone. The very last thing she would do was put herself into the same position as Clarissa Wentworth and get herself with child.
Although…what harm could come from a few, small indiscretions?
She knew how babies were made, and they didn’t come from kisses and caresses, no matter how achingly delicious and thrilling.
And Gabe’s touches were certainly that. Besides, they were engaged.
No one would expect them to be completely chaste in the lead-up to their wedding.
Some physical intimacies were to be expected. It was only natural.