Free The Secret Rose by Laura Landon Page A

What I own is halfway across the ocean. A small spice plantation in the Caribbean and three cargo ships.”
    Ice water washed through her veins. “That is where you live?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you would expect me to go with you?”
    “I would expect you to be my wife.”
    “But now you have Fallen Oaks. Surely you would want to stay here, or at least allow me to.”
    He lifted his chin. The harsh glare in his eyes forced her to bear the full brunt of the power he wielded. “What is there about this place you cannot give up?”
    “It is where I was raised.”
    “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s more than that. What is here that you cannot leave?”
    She spun away from him. “It is my home. It’s where I belong.” She was determined to make him understand from the start that she would not leave.
    He took another step closer to her. The clean smell of the outdoors and the scent of the soap in which he’d bathed filled her head. Confused her thoughts. She turned to face him with squared shoulders and lifted chin. A broad smile brightened his features, causing a riot of unfamiliar stirrings deep in the pit of her stomach.
    “Perhaps, in time, it will be impossible for you to stay here without me?”
    She tilted her head in defiance and prayed he would not come any closer. “You have my ships, Mr. Cambridge. Be content with the profits you can make from them. It will be the only benefit you receive from our marriage.”
    His thick brows arched high. “I think not.” He cupped her cheek with his hand. “Our marriage will be a boon to both of us.”
    His touch sent a rush of fiery explosions racing to every part of her. Her traitorous body gave way to emotions she swore she would never let herself feel. Her heart ached to come alive, to be filled with something other than loneliness and bitterness and loss. But she couldn’t allow it. She remembered the hurt, the pain of betrayal, the loss and emptiness. She would never hurt like that again.
    Abigail pushed herself away from him. “It is a warning I give you now. Do not expect more. When you leave, I will not go with you.”
    The deep blue of his eyes turned even darker, the masked expression on his face even more obscure. “Do not think, Abigail, that every order you give will become a reality. So far, you have been the only one to make demands. That will soon change.”
    He locked his gaze with hers for a long moment, then turned away. “Palmsworth,” he announced from the center of the room.
    The butler appeared as if he had his hand on the door, waiting to be called.
    “Bring your mistress’s cloak and have a carriage brought round.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Abigail rushed to object. “I don’t—”
    He ignored her protest and continued his instructions. “Miss Langdon and I are going out for a while and will be back in a few hours. Would you ask Cook to have dinner ready when we return? I missed lunch and am quite hungry.”
    “Yes, sir.” Palmsworth started to back out of the room.
    “Palmsworth,” he ordered again. “Have Miss Langdon’s maid begin packing. We will leave in the morning for London.”
    Palmsworth nodded once, then left. Abigail stood rooted to her spot and gaped after him.
    Without giving her a chance to argue, he spun back to her. “The sun has come out, and it has turned into a beautiful winter’s day. Before we leave for London, I should like to meet a few of the tenants and speak to your father’s steward. I am sure he will manage well enough in our absence, but it is best we come to an understanding before we leave.”
    Abigail opened her mouth to speak, but he held out his hand to silence her.
    “There is also the convent for which I am now responsible. I would like to see it.”
    Fingers of fear spiraled through her body, and she shook her head. “There is no need to go to the convent. Everything is already in place to see to its needs.”
    “That may be so. But I would still like to see it before we leave for