Plum squirmed on his lap, trying to slow her beating heart, trying desperately to hang onto her good intentions. Harry always managed to drive even the simplest of thoughts from her mind whenever he touched her. Delaying her moment of truth, she seized the opening he offered. “Is your work so unpleasant, then? Is there something I can help you with?”
He kissed her ear. “Thank you for such a selfless offer, but no. I wish you could, but it’s something I must see through myself.”
She squirmed again, and he caught her hips, holding her still. “What is it you’re looking for?”
“Just some boring old notes. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I’m very good with notes. I would be happy to be of assistance.”
The wonderful laugh lines around his eyes crinkled delightfully as he grinned at her. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be able to get a single thing done were you to try to help me. I’d be too busy planning what calisthenic I wanted to try with you.”
“But—”
“No, thank you, Plum. I should be done with this in a week; then I promise I’ll be a better husband.”
Guilt washed over her in a wave that had her heart contracting painfully. He was so wonderful to her now, how could he think he was anything less than perfect? Shame made her words sound pettish and ungrateful. “Very well. If you don’t wish to share your burden with me, I won’t pry.”
Harry laughed and kissed her chin. “As if I haven’t burdened you with enough?” Plum’s heart sank. His words and tone were playful, but his meaning was clear. She hadn’t done very well with the responsibilities he had given her, it was no wonder he didn’t trust her with anything more. Before she could protest, he continued. “Before I forget myself and investigate the charming breasts I know are hiding beneath your bodice, what was it you wanted to see me about?”
Plum couldn’t meet his eyes. She bit her lip, told herself to stop being such a coward, and blurted out, “It’s something…unpleasant.”
Harry groaned. “All right. Out with it. Who did what now?”
A month’s experience of rescuing animals, objects, and sometimes people from the almost always disastrous attention of her stepchildren gave her an understanding of just what he was asking. “The children haven’t done anything.”
“No? There hasn’t been another accident, has there?”
Plum frowned. “No, you know I’d tell you if anything else happened, but as you bring that up…Harry, don’t you think it rather odd that so many things have gone wrong during the last few weeks? First McTavish got sick eating something that we’ve still to identify—”
Her husband cocked a brow. “I thought we decided he ate a poisonous berry by mistake?”
Plum shook her head. “I’m not convinced of that. He says he didn’t eat any berries, but he’s hiding something. Then the girls and Thom were accosted by that gypsy while they were out walking in the fi elds—”
“That was likely just a vagrant looking for a handout.”
“—and then Digger had that fall from his horse. You said yourself that you found two burrs under the saddle, so poor Frozen Dawn had no choice but to buck when Digger mounted him.”
Harry’s hand slid up her thigh in a most distracting manner. “Yes, but I also said that the boys had been playing with the saddle blankets, and they could have inadvertently picked up a burr or two while they were being dragged God knows where.”
“That’s unlikely,” Plum argued, ignoring the heat his touch generated.
“But not impossible.”
“Then there’s—”
Harry sighed — he did not have to ration his sighs. “Plum, are you going to recount every incident that’s happened during the last month? Because if you are, I’d prefer you be naked so I can at least enjoy the scenery.”
She slapped his hand away from where it was creeping, annoyed that even after a month of her trying to control the children, they still behaved like maniacs. “Harry, I’m serious.”
“I know you are, sweetheart, and I appreciate that you’re so concerned for the children, but close acquaintance with them forces me to be blunt — disaster follows them like shadows. What they don’t cause by their own actions, seems to be drawn to them. Once you learn to accept that, you’ll be much easier in your mind.”
“Hrmph.” Plum didn’t agree with that, but realized the moment to fight that battle was not now.
“Was that all you wanted?”
“No, what I have to say to you concerns me.”
Both of his eyebrows raised. “You? What could you have to tell me about yourself that was unpleasant? You haven’t changed your mind about me and now want to run off with Juan?”
“No, it’s not that,” she answered, unable to keep from responding to his teasing grin. She kissed the tip of his nose. “There’s no other man who could possibly compare with you, Harry.”
He had the smug look of a man with a well-pleasured wife, but as she was the wife in question, she didn’t mind.
“It’s…uh…about last night.”
“Last night?” His eyebrows rose again. “What about it?”
Plum’s cheeks turned pink under his gaze. Stupid cheeks. She had worked through a great many of the calisthenics with Harry, had seen, touched, and tasted almost every part of his person, and still she blushed whenever she mentioned their activities. “Last night, when you performed Matador Facing a Wild Bull, you…you”—her gaze dropped to his shoulder—“finished inside me rather than out, as you have done in the past.”
“Ah. Yes. That.” Harry’s voice sounded a bit strained. Plum peeked up at him, unsure of what she would see, but surprised to find his eyes filled with remorse. His jaw tightened, a muscle flexing in his cheek before he spoke. “I apologize, Plum. I had not meant to do that, but the matador move had me a bit closer to the edge than I anticipated. I assure you it won’t happen again.”
Her hopes plummeted. “It won’t?”
“No. I made a promise, and I will hold by it.”
Well, hell. She should have known it was a mistake, and not a sign he was softening toward her. Still, she had promised herself weeks ago that when Harry finally trusted her with his seed, she would trust him with at least one of her secrets. “I see.”
“Plum?” He lifted her chin and peered into her eyes, worry evident in his. “I didn’t hurt you when I did the matador, did I?”
“No, you didn’t. It’s always been one of my favorite calisthenics, but Charles was never very good at it.”
Harry relaxed, a slight smile playing around his lips. “I suppose it’s not right to wish the dead ill, but I have to admit I’m happy to know that I can outperform your first husband on at least one front.”
Plum bit her lip again, damned her weak spirit, took a deep breath, and steeled herself for Harry’s reaction. “Charles wasn’t really my first husband, you are. That is, he was my first husband, except he was already married when he married me, although I didn’t know that until six weeks later, when he admitted that our marriage was bigamous, and he had done it simply because he knew I’d never become his mistress, which was true, I would have never agreed to anything so shocking, only what I did turned out to be more shocking, because everyone thought I had simply jumped into his bed, when I truly thought we were wed, and they cut me, cut my entire family until I was disowned, and sent my poor sister into a fatal decline as a result of the scandal.”
She ran out of breath before she could finish the explanation. Harry sat still as a stone throughout all of it, his eyes steady on hers, not a word passing his lips. Her gaze dropped before his, unable to bear looking at him any longer. She had known telling him the truth would be awful, but this was unbearable. “I should have told you before we were married. I was too afraid you wouldn’t marry me if I did. I am a coward at heart, Harry, and for my deception I am very sorry. You deserve better. If you’d like me to…to leave, I will.”