hastily packed the previous night, Catriona felt a flare of panic. “No!” she exclaimed, making a frantic grab for the brocaded bag at the exact moment he caught the ivory handle on the opposite side of it.
Plainly intrigued by her violent reaction, he gave the bag a tug. “I’d be perfectly happy with a newspaper or a scandal sheet to while away the hours until we reach our lodgings for the night.”
“Well, I haven’t either one.” She tugged back, desperation giving her the strength she needed to wrench the bag out of his grip and whisk it safely onto the seat beside her.
Simon leaned back and stretched out his long legs, looking even more smug than if he had won the humiliating little contest. “Why so secretive, darling? Is that where you’re hiding my money?”
“Here. You can have this book.” She tossed her book at him; he caught it without so much as a flinch.
He frowned down at the gilt lettering on the spine. “ Pilgrim’s Progress? I was rather hoping for something more…stimulating.”
“Like The Randy Adventures of Naughty Nell , perhaps?”
“Oh, I’ve already read that one twice.” A wicked smile flirted with his lips. “Rumor has it that the author based the character of Nell’s most dashing and accomplished lover on me.”
Trying not to remember just how accomplished he had proved himself in her bed, she nodded toward the book. “There’s a character based on you in that book as well. They call him Satan.”
Now that she had nothing to read, it was Catriona’s turn to scowl out the carriage window. After several minutes of stony silence, she stole a look at Simon. He had drawn a pair of steel-framed spectacles from the pocket of his waistcoat and appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in the story. She felt her expression soften. With the spectacles perched low on his nose and a stray lock of hair falling over his brow, he looked less like a libertine and more like a professor from some hallowed university. She could only too easily imagine the subjects he would excel at teaching—dueling, gambling, flirting, wenching.
Breaking hearts.
Her smile faded. By tomorrow night, she would be his wife. She couldn’t help but think how different this journey might have been if their impending marriage was more than just a business arrangement. She would probably be cuddled up in his lap right now with no need of a book to while away the tedious hours of traveling.
She sighed. She could no longer afford to indulge in such dangerous fantasies. She had promised him a marriage of convenience and she had an obligation to deliver on that promise, no matter how inconvenient to her yearning heart. She would simply have to do everything in her power to hide that heart from him.
Simon glanced up to catch her studying him. She quickly dropped her gaze to her lap, devoting all of her attention to stroking Robert the Bruce’s velvety ears.
“Shall I read aloud?” he offered.
“If it pleases you,” she replied, trying to sound as disinterested as possible although there was nothing she would have liked better.
He flipped back to the very first page of the book and began to read. He had a fine and expressive baritone, honed by his years of observing the actors at the opera house. As the rich music of his voice cast an irresistible spell over her, Catriona soon found herself immersed in Bunyan’s grand old story as if she were experiencing it for the very first time.
******************
Night was fast approaching, stealing the last bit of light from the page and making the words run together in an inky blur. Simon glanced up from the scene where Christian and Hopeful prepare to cross the River of Death to find Catriona slumped in the seat across from him, sound asleep. He had been reading steadily since they’d stopped at an inn to change horses and eat supper two hours ago. A reluctant smile touched his lips as he gently closed the book, laid it aside, and drew off his spectacles.
With
Plainly intrigued by her violent reaction, he gave the bag a tug. “I’d be perfectly happy with a newspaper or a scandal sheet to while away the hours until we reach our lodgings for the night.”
“Well, I haven’t either one.” She tugged back, desperation giving her the strength she needed to wrench the bag out of his grip and whisk it safely onto the seat beside her.
Simon leaned back and stretched out his long legs, looking even more smug than if he had won the humiliating little contest. “Why so secretive, darling? Is that where you’re hiding my money?”
“Here. You can have this book.” She tossed her book at him; he caught it without so much as a flinch.
He frowned down at the gilt lettering on the spine. “ Pilgrim’s Progress? I was rather hoping for something more…stimulating.”
“Like The Randy Adventures of Naughty Nell , perhaps?”
“Oh, I’ve already read that one twice.” A wicked smile flirted with his lips. “Rumor has it that the author based the character of Nell’s most dashing and accomplished lover on me.”
Trying not to remember just how accomplished he had proved himself in her bed, she nodded toward the book. “There’s a character based on you in that book as well. They call him Satan.”
Now that she had nothing to read, it was Catriona’s turn to scowl out the carriage window. After several minutes of stony silence, she stole a look at Simon. He had drawn a pair of steel-framed spectacles from the pocket of his waistcoat and appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in the story. She felt her expression soften. With the spectacles perched low on his nose and a stray lock of hair falling over his brow, he looked less like a libertine and more like a professor from some hallowed university. She could only too easily imagine the subjects he would excel at teaching—dueling, gambling, flirting, wenching.
Breaking hearts.
Her smile faded. By tomorrow night, she would be his wife. She couldn’t help but think how different this journey might have been if their impending marriage was more than just a business arrangement. She would probably be cuddled up in his lap right now with no need of a book to while away the tedious hours of traveling.
She sighed. She could no longer afford to indulge in such dangerous fantasies. She had promised him a marriage of convenience and she had an obligation to deliver on that promise, no matter how inconvenient to her yearning heart. She would simply have to do everything in her power to hide that heart from him.
Simon glanced up to catch her studying him. She quickly dropped her gaze to her lap, devoting all of her attention to stroking Robert the Bruce’s velvety ears.
“Shall I read aloud?” he offered.
“If it pleases you,” she replied, trying to sound as disinterested as possible although there was nothing she would have liked better.
He flipped back to the very first page of the book and began to read. He had a fine and expressive baritone, honed by his years of observing the actors at the opera house. As the rich music of his voice cast an irresistible spell over her, Catriona soon found herself immersed in Bunyan’s grand old story as if she were experiencing it for the very first time.
******************
Night was fast approaching, stealing the last bit of light from the page and making the words run together in an inky blur. Simon glanced up from the scene where Christian and Hopeful prepare to cross the River of Death to find Catriona slumped in the seat across from him, sound asleep. He had been reading steadily since they’d stopped at an inn to change horses and eat supper two hours ago. A reluctant smile touched his lips as he gently closed the book, laid it aside, and drew off his spectacles.
With
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