“It clearly is important if you override my concern for my sister for its sake.”
“I meant it’s not your concern. All you need to know is that I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”
An indirect cut at her broken promise to her father? Deliberate or not, it flicked Isabella on the raw. “Then I’ll go to Valle Verde by myself and join you later in England.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort. I won’t have my wife gadding about a foreign country on her own.”
“It’snota foreign country.Englandis the foreign country to me. You can hire guards and a duenna if you don’t trust me.”
“It’s not a matter of trust. The discussion is ended, and you will obey me. If you’re still worried about your half sister when we get back to England, I’ll send someone to make inquiries. Now, let us continue on our way. I intend to reach the town of Berdún before nightfall.” He rose to his feet and held out an imperious hand to assist her.
She knew it was childish, but she refused to take his hand.
They packed up the remains of their luncheon and washed their hands and faces in the mountain-cold stream. Again, Isabella recalled bathing in that other stream that dreadful day, and how Lieutenant Ripton had come and lifted her out of the freezing water and wrapped her in his shirt and comforted her.
It was hard to believe he was the same man.
The second half of the day passed more slowly. They still rode in silence, but it was the result of constraint.
Bella brooded over his brusque dismissal of her need to go to Valle Verde. She wasn’t happy about it at all, but the more she thought about it, the more she had to accept that for him, a bastard half sister was of little significance.
And that his engagement in England was obviously very important.
If she didn’t share his priorities, that was her affair.
In the late afternoon, a light drizzle set in. Isabella made no complaint; she just pulled out the blue hat and a gray woolen cloak from her bag, put them on, and kept riding. Luke was not so sanguine. The hat offered little protection. The misty rain caught in the tiny curls that framed her face. Droplets clustered on her lashes. The cloak was old and threadbare and was soon sodden.
What the hell was her aunt thinking, letting her embark on a long and difficult journey with such inadequate clothing? It was taking poverty and simplicity too far.
“Stop,” Luke told her, and with a puzzled look, she reined in her mare. He reached over, yanked Isabella’s cloak off her, and tossed it into the bushes.
“What are you doing? That’s my cloak. You can’t—”
He pulled off his many-caped greatcoat and held it out to her. “Put this on.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue. It’s warmer and drier than that blasted threadbare thing you were wearing.”
“But what about you?”
“I’m used to being out in all weather.” He rolled the sleeves up for her. “Now button it, all the way up.” He watched as she buttoned it tight to her throat, then nodded and led the way onward.
They rounded a bend, and a small cluster of buildings came into sight. “The village of Biniés,” Luke told her. “We’ll spend the night here.”
“I thought you wanted to get to Berdún tonight.”
“You’ve ridden all day and you’re cold and wet and tired.”
She glanced at him. “You’re wetter than me.”
“I’m used to it,” he said brusquely. “Even in so small a village, there’s bound to be an inn of sorts, though it might be a little spartan. We’ll find a room and wait out the rain.” And he had plans for the night that would warm them both, most thoroughly.
She hesitated, and then said, “Two rooms, please.” Her skin was moon-pale and wet with rain.
He reined in his horse and stared at her. “Tworooms?”
She moistened cold, berry-dark lips. “You said this would be a marriage of convenience.” She looked nervous, but her chin was braced and resolute. “Well, it is not convenient for me to share a bed with you… yet.”
