Page 80 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

The words came out low. Rough. As if they'd been dragged from somewhere deep.

Florence waited. Surely there was more. Surely, he'd say something else, something that would crack open his chest and show her what was inside.

But he just sat there. Silent. As if that one sentence was supposed to be enough.

I don't touch women I feel nothing for.

He felt something for Isabelle, then. The thought sliced through her, sharp and cold. Ten years of feeling something. Ten years of going back to the same woman, the same bed, the same arrangement.

And now her. How was she different? Was she different at all?

Or was she just another woman he felt something for? Something undefined. Something that might fade when the danger passed and the mission ended and ordinary life resumed.

She didn't ask. She wasn't sure she could bear the answer.

"In case you're with child," he began, as if he hadn't just gutted her. "The marriage would serve dual purpose. Protection from Carrick. Legitimacy for any consequences."

"And if I'm not with child?" Her voice was flat. "If Carrick is dealt with and there's no need for protection?"

"Then we could divorce. Easily, in Scotland. If that's what you wanted."

If that's what she wanted. As if he were doing her a favour. Offering her an escape route before they'd even begun.

"So this is purely a marriage of convenience."

"No." His voice sharpened. "I told you. I wouldn't have laid a hand on you if—"

"I heard you the first time." Something hard and brittle lodged in her heart. "And there was nothing in there about love. Nothing about choosing me even if it didn't serve a dual purpose."

Silence.

He said nothing. Offered nothing.

She lay back down, turning her back to him. The blanket was rough against her cheek. The ground was cold beneath her.

She heard him lie down beside her. Felt him shift closer, his hand reaching for her waist.

She shook him off.

A sigh. The creak of canvas as he settled onto his back.

The silence stretched. Outside, the fire’s crackling had slowed. The voices had faded. The moor was quiet until his voice broke the silence.

"I always thought the best I could do for a woman was keep her safe." His voice was low, almost defeated. "Didn't know I'd earn a cold bed for not stringing the right words in the right order."

She said nothing.

After a few minutes, his breathing deepened. Slowed. Evened out into the rhythm of sleep.

Florence lay awake, staring at nothing, and wondered if this was all he was capable of giving.

Protection. Practicality. A marriage of convenience.

And if it was, if this was all she'd ever get from him, was it enough?

She didn't know.

Chapter twenty