Page 22 of Dangerous

“The sultan died and his son Assad seized control of his father’s empire. Assad and I had had a misunderstanding years earlier and he held me in great dislike. I was lucky enough to escape the palace before he captured me. I hid in the souk, where I sold my jewels to live, and offered a substantial reward to the first person who delivered my message to Ramsay.”

“And then Ramsay came to get you?”

Mia smiled up at him. “I swear you have been reading the scandal sheets, my lord.”

Muscles flexed beneath his pale skin, making her hand twitch at the memory of touching the hard planes of his face. “It would have been impossible to get through the last few months without hearing at least a hundred stories about either you or Lord Ramsay,” he said acidly.

“And some of those stories are so very, very naughty, my lord.”

His nostrils flared. “I wouldn’t know about those, my lady.” He shot her a look that sent heat surging through her body.

“Is that so?” she murmured, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “Ramsay could not come for me himself, but he sent his ship to collect me and bring me to Eastbourne, his port of choice. He then accompanied me back to Burnewood Park.”

Thinking of that journey—the last time she’d seen her son—made it difficult to breathe. Her vision became blurry and she stared down at her hands, blinking away tears.

The marquess broke the strained silence. “I will obtain a special license. Will ten days be sufficient time for you to prepare?”

Mia exhaled. She’d done it. She’d told the story without making any mistakes or rousing any suspicion. “Yes, my lord.”

“My preference would be for an intimate ceremony.”

She nodded. “Will you invite your sister and daughters, my lord?” When he didn’t answer, she stole a look at him from beneath the brim of her hat. His features were set in characteristically harsh lines.

“No.”

Mia tried to find some meaning in the single syllable but came up with nothing. She pushed her curiosity away—it did not serve her purpose. She would need to keep reminding herself that his children were not her affair. Nor was anything else in his life.

“You may, of course, invite as many people as you choose.”

“Yes, my lord.” Mia’s guest list would be short. Other than family, the only person she knew in England was Baron Ramsay.

She’d seen Ramsay once or twice at London functions, but had never managed to speak with him in private. She had a sneaking suspicion the big peer wouldn’t fall in with her escape plans, especially once she was married. Men had a tendency to stick together, even when they didn’t know one another.

If he refused to help her, there were other men on his crew who might prove useful. His handsome first mate—a Frenchman named Martín Bouchard—came to mind. The amorous young man had made no secret of his interest in her. At least his interest in getting her into his bed. Mia would have succumbed to the man’s advances if Jibril had not been on the ship. Yes, Bouchard was definitely somebody she could turn to if necessary.

Mia would make it a point to find out from Ramsay when the Frenchman would be back in England. She could also press Ramsay for news of Jibril. The baron had given her son passage on his ship as well as money for supplies and weapons. The only thing he’d requested of Jibril was his word he would discontinue Babba Hassan’s practice of dealing in slaves, a business her son already abhorred, being the son of a slave.

Mia realized the carriage had stopped and looked up. The marquess was staring. She smiled and a muscle jumped in her cheek. “I’m sorry, my lord, did you say something?”

“You were very far away and looked very pleased about something. Tell me, my lady, what were you thinking about to make you smile so?” His raptor-like stare belied his mild tone.

Nothing that would make you smile, Mia thought, bringing her twitching cheek under control. “I was wondering what we will do after the wedding.”

His eyebrows shot up and his eyes lit with humor.

Heat flooded her face and she pressed her hands to her cheeks. How was it this man had the power to make her blush?

“I meant after that, my lord. Where we will live?”

“Ah,” he murmured, his expression mockingly crestfallen.

Mia found this small display of playfulness encouraging. “Will we stay in London or retire to your home in Hampshire?”

He made a soft clucking sound and the horses resumed their gentle pace. “Which would you prefer?”

“I should like to go to Exham Castle.” Mia realized she was speaking the truth. Not just because of her escape plans, but because she was intrigued to meet the man’s children, as well as the sister who was raising his daughters.

“We shall spend a few days in London after the ceremony and then remove to Exham. Will that please you?”