Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

“I mean that I began to feel niggling doubts. Even my ever-faithful Mary was singing your praises, and I wanted to smack her! When I realized that I loved you, I thought I’d die. You see, I felt I was betraying my father, succumbing to his enemy.”

Delaney eased down beside her, stretching out his long legs. “I liked your father,” he said, brushing a lock of hair back from his forehead. “Damnable greed. You do know, Chauncey, that if it hadn’t been for my business proposition to your father, he would likely still be alive.”

“No! You won’t talk like that!” He was gazing at her quizzingly, and she added, “If it were true, then imagine me as Sir Guy’s wife, for it probably would have come to pass.”

He didn’t like that notion at all. Chauncey saw his lips tighten and his eyes darken. “There, you see what happens when you try to change the past? Actually, when you think about it, if it hadn’t been for my godfather, Sir Jasper, I’d probably now be a shop girl in London, barely eking out a living.”

“All right, you logical wench, I’ll cease and desist.”

“Do you still want to be in California’s politics?” Chauncey asked abruptly.

“Yes, I do.” His left brow shot upward as he remembered their prior discussions about it. “You agreed then,” he said slowly, “because you hoped there’d be a way to ruin me.”

“Yes, but I simply couldn’t think of anything. I fear I’m not a very good plotter.”

“But you’re excellent in bed.”

She smiled at him even as she said in a tart voice, “Is that all you men think about? Bedding women?”

“Alas, there’s a great deal of truth to what you say.”

“Del, you . . . well, you won’t really mind giving up your mistress, will you?”

He gave her an appalled look. “Give up Marie? My dear girl, you expect me to forgo all my sport?”

Her eyes became large and distressed.

“Such a fool you are, Chauncey,” he said softly, tweaking her nose. “You know very well that I gave up Marie before we were married.”

“Yes, I suppose so, but you were so furious with me and you left that night, remember?”

“Yes, but I didn’t go to Marie. Don’t ever forget, Chauncey, ever: I love you to distraction. All right?”

“I don’t deserve you,” she said, and poked him in the ribs when he heartily agreed with her.

The night was cool and clear. Sated, Chauncey leaned back against Delaney’s knees, staring into the glowing embers in the fireplace. The pheasant had been delicious. Her shoulder scarcely bothered her.

“I don’t ever want to leave here,” she said, leaning her head back so that she could see his face upside down.

“That’s because I’m doing all the work, madam. I would expect you to enjoy being waited on hand and foot. Well, hand and something.”

She flushed just a bit.

He shifted her around and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I want you

to get into your comfortable bed. I, dear one, am going down to the river to bathe.”

“All right,” she said, her pulse quickening. He helped her ease down into the bedroll and rose.

“I shan’t be long. Can I expect you to be waiting for me when I return?”

She yawned dramatically. “I’m awfully tired, sir.”

When Delaney returned to the shack some thirty minutes later, he was amused to see that she was indeed sleeping, her face glowing in the soft firelight, her breath even. He stripped off his clothes and started to slide under the blankets with her, but realized he was too wide-awake. He had kept all his doubts and concerns from her, and in the stillness of the dilapidated shack, they flooded into his mind.

Chauncey awoke slowly, not moving. She blinked several times, furious with herself that she’d fallen asleep. She turned her head on the valise—the makeshift pillow—and sucked in her breath. Delaney stood by the fireplace staring as if mesmerized by the jumping flames. He was naked.

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