On a Long Ago Night (42 page)

It had begun to rain again, and he took off his coat and

draped it over Honoria's shoulders. Then he took his wife into the

dry warmth of the carriage and kissed her for a good, long time. As

they waited for the constables to arrive they snuggled close, happy

to be alive and together.

Finally, Honoria sighed and said, "Fathers."

"Funny how all three of us had obedience to our fathers in

common," James agreed.

She looked at him solemnly. "I'm not sure I'd call it funny."

She glanced back at the church. "Tragic, in that man's case. I

wonder what happened to that letter?" she added curiously.

"I still have it," James told her.

Honoria disentangled herself from his embrace and sat up

straight. "What?" She sounded as indignant as Menzies had a few

minutes before. "What do you mean, you still have it?"

He found her outraged expression adorable. He found
her

adorable. "I took it with me when we left my house." He watched

her temper slowly flare as he explained, "At first I thought I might

find someone else to translate it. Then it occurred to me that it

might not be the best thing to show my face anywhere near Algiers,

so I put it in a box and kept it as a memento. I didn't exactly have a

lock of your hair to remember you by," he added, toying with a

loose strand of her bright curls.

Honoria opened her mouth, but no words came out. He

watched as her indignation slowly settled into thoughtfulness. She

began to tap a finger slowly on her chin.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" he asked.

"What do you want to do with our lives?" she asked in turn.

"I don't have to be a duchess yet." She took his hands. "You don't

have to manage estates or sit in the House of Lords or run off to

your clubs and horse races. We don't have to go to balls if we don't

want."

"Or ride to the hunt?" He got into the spirit of the thing. "I

hate house parties."

"I loathe the opera. Court is boring."

"I'd like to build a house someday."

"Have babies—someday."

"Me, too." He took her by the shoulders, and knew his eyes

were as bright as hers when he said, "We could go to Algiers."

She nodded eagerly. "No one would suspect Lord James

Pyne-Marbury—"

"Or Marbury-Pyne—"

"—Of being Diego Moresco. The treasure might still be

where Ibrahim Rais hid it. We could have quite an adventure."

"Do you want to go treasure hunting?" he asked her.

"You do need to get your silver sword back." She grinned.

"Then we could go see the Pyramids." She bounced on the carriage

seat. "Do you want to go to Egypt, too? I've been learning to read

hieroglyphics."

"Of course you have." He beamed proudly. "As for the rest of

the treasure—" James waved a hand. "We could give it to the poor.

The sword I'd keep as a memento."

Her smile was bright with excited delight. "To hang over the

mantel of the house we're going to build?"

"I'll hang it over the bed," he declared with a wicked laugh.

"Would that be wise, my love?" She kissed him gently, then

with growing passion, until she had him panting with desire.

"You're right," he agreed, bending her backward on the

carriage seat. His hands stroked her lovely breasts until she moaned

and arched passionately against him. "The way we fight, having a

sword over the bed might not be such a good idea."