Rogue of the Borders by Cynthia Breeding Read Free Book Online Page B

the quartermaster as he brought her breakfast the next morning.
    “Nae. The captain said ye were to move about as ye please.”
    Well, at least that was good. Although she was still angry over the fact that no one—least of all her husband— had consulted her regarding this marriage scam, she had grown up with the ton . A great many marriages were arranged for girls without their consent. She had just never heard of one that was purposely going to be annulled though. The delicious scent of cinnamon assailed her nose and she sat down on the small stool and sniffed appreciatively at the porridge Donald had set on the small table. When she tasted it, she was delighted the cook had added butter—or perhaps saffron, it was so rich—to it as well. Porridge at home had always been bland.
    Home. She laid the spoon down, having suddenly lost her appetite. She no longer had a home. Contrary to what Shane said about her freedom, once she was released from her sham marriage, she would not return to London. She had never cared for the snobbish behavior of the ton and she certainly did not want to return to face the on-dits and speculation about why her marriage was annulled. Nor did she care to live under her father’s roof any longer. She didn’t know that she could ever forgive him.
    How could Papa have agreed to this charade? And why had he not told her, instead of allowing her to hope the marriage was real? Abigail felt her face heat. She had completely humiliated herself with Shane last night, acting like a hussy inviting him to join her on the bed, not knowing he never had any intention of making her his wife. Mortification overcame her as she thought of how pathetic she must have looked.
    Tears welled up again and Abigail brushed them away. Lord, she’d done enough crying in the past hours to make up for a lifetime. And she was not an attractive crier. Her face blotched, her nose turned red and her eyes swelled. She hoped the quartermaster hadn’t noticed. Perhaps it would be best to stay in the cabin at that—at least, until she had her tears under control.
    Someone rapped at the door, but before she could respond, it opened and Shane stood there. Momentarily, her attention was diverted. He looked disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and stuffed haphazardly into his breeches. His inky hair was mussed as though he’d run his hands through it numerous times. He had a good day’s worth of stubble as well, which only made him look even more enticingly male. Involuntarily, her breath caught at the sight of him and then she looked away.
    “Donald told me ye were nae well. Is it the motion of the boat? Ye should come up on deck—”
    “I…I am fine.” Abigail blinked furiously, willing the tears not to flow again. “I…I prefer to rest. Thank you for checking though.”
    Shane closed the door. “Ye have been crying.”
    Abigail started to shake her head and then stopped. There was no use in denial since her face showed the effects. Instead, she shrugged.
    Shane moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I dinna mean to make ye cry, lass.”
    She lifted her chin. “What…what makes you think you did? Perhaps I am just feeling a little overwhelmed with leaving—”
    “Doona lie,” Shane said and ran his fingers through his hair. “I ken I sounded like an arse last eve. Ye should have been told— I should have been the one to tell ye—long before the wedding day.” He picked up her hand. “I am verra sorry I hurt ye.”
    His touch sent a thousand lightning bolts to her brain. She should pull away, but her arm would not move. Instead, Abigail was aware of the enveloping strength of his large hand, the roughness of a callus on his thumb as he gently brushed it over her knuckles and most of all, of the warmth emanating from Shane that seared through her body straight to her core.
    She should hate him for scheming with her father. She should lift her nose in disdain and dismiss him as any lady of society would do. At the