“So, where are we now?” Mac asked. “I’m a responsible teetotaler who’s adopted a child, but you married a carousing, carefree, wild cad. Will you even like the Mac Mackenzie I’ve become?”
Isabella reached for his hand. “You . . . I don’t know how to put this, but you’re the real you now, I think. You’ve lost all the things you hid behind. As though you’re naked and unafraid.”
Mac squeezed her fingers. “I could be naked, if you like. It’s warm enough in here.”
“But there are things about the other Mac I still love,” Isabella went on. “I love your humor, your ability to render things harmless by laughing at them. I love your charm. When you were playing with the band on the street corner, you rose to the occasion with aplomb and made your friends look like idiots for ridiculing people. I was so proud to be your wife that night.”
Mac kissed her fingers. “You know, the sergeant said I was welcome to canvass with them any time. Then you can show me again how proud you are of me.”
“And I love how you turn anything we talk of into a game of seduction.”
“Now, that is good to know.”
“It makes me feel wanted and loved.” Isabella covered his paint-smeared hand with both of hers. “I’m willing to try to be your wife again.”
Mac’s heart thumped so hard he could barely breathe. Never mind the damn letter. Having Isabella herself was hundred times better. “What do you mean by that? Exactly. Be precise. Be as precise as Ian would be. I don’t want to misunderstand. Misunderstanding would make me hope, and I can’t live on false hope.”
Isabella stilled his lips with her fingertips. “I mean that I’m willing to try to live as your wife, to see how we rub along. No more games. Just life.”
“Try.” Mac kissed her fingers before she lowered them. “Only try? Not—yes, Mac, please reverse the separation and we’ll live happily ever after?”
“No hurrying. Living together as man and wife. If we both truly have changed, if we are able to settle down and trot along happily together, then we summon Mr. Gordon and have him attend to the legal matters.”
While part of Mac rejoiced at her words, another part chafed in impatience. He wanted this done, finished, so that the gnawing in his belly could go away, and he wouldn’t wake up in terror that she’d be gone again.
Still another part of him felt a twinge of guilt. He’d started to show her his soft underbelly with the letter, but she’d cut him off before he could do much more. The letter was only part of it. She was wrong; he was still hiding, and she was praising him for it.
He gave her a wicked smile, the wretch inside him banished again. “You wish to live together as man and wife, eh? My deliciously scandalous lady.” He grasped her hand and pulled her to him. “I’ll agree to your terms. For now. Not exactly the dazzling romance I had in mind, but I’ll take it.”
“And, Mac?”
“Yes, angel?”
“I’d like to try for a baby.”
Her words washed more hope through him. Isabella had been so terrified to conceive again after her miscarriage that they’d ceased sleeping in the same bed together. Mac had understood and wanted to give her time, but keeping away from each other had put even more strain on their already strained marriage.
“That sounds a fine idea,” Mac’s mouth said while his head rang with jubilation. “We’ve been doing quite a bit of trying already. Something may come of that.”
Isabella shook her head. “I had my courses when we were in Kent.”
“Mmm.” Mac strove to suppress his sudden and acute disappointment. “Well, my sweet, we’ll simply have to try harder.” He touched a silken curl on her forehead. “And often. Much, much more often.”
“May we today?”
“Certainly.” Mac was fully erect behind his kilt, which she had to have felt even through her layers of skirts. “I know where a nice, soft bed is to be found. Across the room, in fact.”
Isabella smiled, her eyes taking on a wicked sparkle. Mac tamped down his guilty feelings as he led her to his wide bed. She’d exposed a large part of her heart this time, but Mac’s hurts would remain hidden until another day.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Miss Westlock said as she walked into the breakfast room the next morning.
Isabella looked up from her letters and arched her brows in surprise. The usually tidy Miss Westlock’s hair was mussed, her face ruddy, her collar askew. At the other end of the able, Mac lowered his newspaper.
“What happened?” he asked.
“As you know, my lord, it is my habit in the mornings to take a brisk walk in Hyde Park before Aimee rises.”
“Yes,” Mac said impatiently. Miss Westlock was a hardy sort, up before dawn, taking light meals and no drink, walking every day.
“Well, a peculiar thing happened this morning. A gentleman approached me along one of the walks, and for a moment, I thought it was your lordship.”
Mac stiffened, and Isabella’s pulse quickened. “Yes?” she prompted.
“When he reached me, I saw that, indeed, it was not your lordship. He looked most like you, but his eyes were different. His are most definitely brown, while yours, your lordship, are more like copper. He alarmed me, rather.”
Isabella clenched her napkin so hard she felt her nails press her palms through the cloth. “What did he do?”
“He asked me at what time I took Aimee for her walk, and would I let him speak to her then? I asked him why, and he claimed he was her father. I of course had no way of knowing whether this was true, and I advised him to consult your lordship. When I said that, he became most incensed, declaring that he was your lordship, and that you were impersonating him.”
Mac said nothing. Isabella saw his stare fix and a blood vessel begin pulsing in his neck, and she recognized that Mac was very, very angry. He rarely grew truly enraged; yes, he liked to shout and could conduct blazing rows with her, but those didn’t stem from true anger. Irritation, frustration, and exasperation, but not fury.
This was anger. Dangerous anger.
“What did you say to him?” Isabella asked Miss Westlock.
“I bade him good morning and started to walk away. He was obviously a madman, and I have learned that one does not engage a madman in conversation. And would you believe it? He seized my arm and tried to drag me away with him.”