Page 34 of Wicked with Him

She went back down the stairs and stopped at the front doors, eyeing the vines creeping around the frame with annoyance.

Roman was suddenly behind her, placing his hands lightly on her waist. “A shame, isn’t it, to see a grand house fallen so far?”

“Indeed, it is,” she whispered. “How could they let such a place fall so low and think anyone could want it?”

“Lord Barnes probably described the place as rustic and serene,” he said, pointing to a large crack above the main doorway that showed enough light and space through to admit snow, rain, and rats. He moved away to peer into another room nearby that she knew had empty bookcases linking the walls of what should have been a large and well-lit gentleman’s study or cigar room.

She frowned and followed him there. “Do you smoke, sir?”

“Never cared for it,” he replied, and then glanced her way. “Why? Do you?”

“That’s not done by women like me.”

He shrugged. “You could if you wanted to. You are mistress of your own destiny now. There’s no one to stop you doing whatever you wanted anymore.”

“I thought I was a wife,” she quipped. “Wouldn’t my husband object?”

“He might, but not enough to consider setting her aside over such a habit.”

Amity considered Roman a long moment. They held quite a few opinions in common. They might have made a good match if he considered it. And what more perfect revenge would it have been to take her hand in marriage, too. She shook her head. He wouldn’t offer for her after all this time. He just wanted to be in her bed and have fun. And it was fun, and she would miss him a great deal when he was gone.

“I’m having trouble coming up with a reason to fight with you. Have you thought of a provocation that would be easily believed besides the obvious?”

He frowned. “What was the obvious?”

“A flirtation with someone else.”

He shook his head. “Let’s not discuss parting today. Let’s continue to pretend we’re happily married instead.”

“You know that’s not possible forever.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.” She moved into the next room when the steward joined them, eager to engage Roman in conversation about the property.

Amity shook her head. She wasn’t really Roman’s wife. That made her unexpectedly angry now, and she stomped outside and back to the horses, where the air was clean and decidedly fresher than inside.

She couldn’t fight with Roman over another woman—real or imagined. He’d been quite clear that he considered marriage in a very poor light. It was to be expected in a disappointed man, she supposed, but it was their only difference of opinion so far.

Marriage could be wonderful. She’d seen it. Perhaps not the way her brother had gone about it though. That union was definitely a battle neither side would ever win. But a marriage made for the right reason, for companionship and love, was certainly worth hoping for. She wouldn’t mind being Mrs. Crawford, but he’d not even hinted that he might be considering her for the position.

“Amity?”

She took pains to wear a happy expression when she turned around. Roman was watching her a certain way, and her body pulsed with awareness of what that look meant. How long could she keep hiding that she wanted more from him than he might want to give? It was just a matter of time before he tired of her. But while he was here, she intended to claim his every waking moment, and his sleeping ones, too. “When did you say you were leaving?”

He drew closer. “What if I didn’t go? I could buy this property.”

“That wouldn’t be very smart. When my cousin comes and sees you here, he would know it was you who ruined me.” She looked up at the dwelling. “And it’s so awfully neglected.”

“It would not be if I owned it. I care for the things I love. With time, it could be a comfortable family home.” He took up her hand and kissed the back. “The steward has departed but the place is not locked. Come and look around again with me.”

He led her through the house one more time without saying much more about the interior, and then around the perimeter again. When he was done with his inspection, Roman helped her up onto his horse. “You know I don’t ever recall seeing you on horseback in London,” he murmured.

Amity controlled her horse to keep him from racing off to stay near Crawford as she answered. “Carriages only in London, so my aunts could chaperone me in luxury. Exertion was discouraged in my adult life.”

“You ride very well,” he told her as he mounted his tired old, hired horse.

Amity urged Argus to keep to the older beasts speed. “Fairbridge always insisted that I ride with him when I was at Ravenswood.”