The Accidental Countess (The Aristocrat Diaries 3)

“Fine. Then me and Nan will take over the island with our postcard business.”

“Hey, you do you, sweetheart. If it keeps her busy and out of trouble, you could open a dessert truck for all I care.”

I huffed, turning off the hot tap. “What do you think, though? I really don’t need to put any money to the hotel now that you’ve invested in it, and—” I stopped talking when I saw him glance away. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Look away when I mentioned the hotel.”

“I didn’t.” He was far too focused on me for that to be the truth.

“Matthew!” I prodded my toes into his hip. “Tell me right now!”

He took a deep breath, then sighed it out, looking out of the window. “I didn’t invest in it.”

“Are you kidding? All of this was for that reason! That’s the only reason I agreed to this! You and Dad agreed it would happen after the wedding, and especially now that you’ve gone and bloody knocked me up out of the blue, I expected that part to be done!”

“Eva.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“Will you just—”

“I will not! You come in here, ruin my bloody bath with your giant, naked, sexy self, and then you piss me off!” I gripped the edges of the tub and hauled myself up. “Bugger off. I don’t want to talk to you until you’ve held up your end of the deal. Sod off. Get lost.”

“Do you hear yourself? Is this the hormones or are you always this irrational when you don’t think?”

“Irrational? Irrational? You think this is irrational? I’ll give you bloody irrational when I beat you with a lamp at three in the morning!”

His lips twitched. “Sit down.”

“I will not! I’m mad at you. Piss off.”

“I gave your dad the money, Eva. No strings attached.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

EVA

I stilled with one leg hooked over the side of the bath. I was literally straddling the tub. My toes were an inch deep into the fluffy bathmat and my palms were aching as the tub edge pressed into my skin.

“You what now?” I asked.

“I gave your dad the money. Every penny we agreed. The hotel ownership will pass to you regardless, and all he’s doing in return is rebranding the hotel to match The Heron.”

I stared at him.

“Will you get in or out before one of your legs give way? Please?”

I got back in.

It was warmer there.

“You just… gave him the money?” I asked after a moment.

Matthew nodded. “Wrote him a check and handed it over.”

“But why? Why not take half the business? You’d get half the profits when it started turning them over.”

“Exactly. I don’t want or need those profits, Eva.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Do you not remember what those profits were supposed to go towards?”

“I do. And that’s why I’m working at the business end with your dad and will have access to all the financials. I’ll match any profits the hotel makes and make sure it goes into a trust.”

I dropped my head back against the back of the tub. Thank God for a high back. “Doesn’t that go against the contract?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Does that mean it’s void?”

“It means you could take me to court if you really wanted to.” His lips pulled into a half-smile. “And I’d have to pay for your lawyer. You insisted on that bit.”

I did.

Past Eva was smart.

Much smarter than present Eva.

I pursed my lips. “Tempting.”

“You would sue your husband?”

“If you didn’t want to be sued, you shouldn’t have put it in the contract.” I nudged him with my big toe. “That’s really all on you.”

“Mm. I suppose you’re correct.” He reached under the bubbles and grabbed my foot, pressing his thumb into the arch. It felt so good that a small moan escaped my lips, and Matthew’s eyebrows shot up. “All right over there?”

“Shut up. My feet hurt.”

“Christ, five weeks and you’re already dying.”

“I walked three miles with the dogs today,” I pointed out. “And wellington boots aren’t exactly the most supportive on the feet.”

He inclined his head and dropped his other hand under the water, bringing my foot in front of him. My calf rested on his knee as he rubbed my foot, and I sighed happily as I leaned back.

All right.

Maybe I’d keep him after all.

If he was going to keep doing this, I couldn’t even complain about him stealing my bath.

Well, not as much as I wanted to, anyway.

“So what are you doing with these postcards, then?”

“Did you know people collect them?” I opened one eye and looked at him. “Like stamps.”

“I did not know that,” he said, actually sounding a little impressed. “But it makes sense. People collect magnets from the different places they visit, and I expect postcards are easier to store.”

“Photo albums.”

“Smart.”

I explained how we were going to do eight regular ones, then add seasonal ones with a limited print run every three months. “We also discussed the possibility of opening a store online so people who want to collect them can do so without coming here. If there was one release a year it would make sense not to, but every three months is a little frequent for tourists.”