Chapter Eleven
“The food is very good, isn’t it?” Tess said that evening over dinner in The River Rooster Inn’s cozy dining room. “The lamb is cooked to perfection.”
Emmy battled a smile as her sister-in-law attacked another bite like a starving woman. “Everything is delicious,” she agreed before sipping her wine.
Alex set his knife and fork on his empty plate and leaned back in his chair, sighing contentedly. “I certainly have no complaints.”
The River Rooster was a roadside inn, lightly weathered but clean and comfortable, and its proprietors, an elderly married couple called Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe, were friendly hosts and quite generous with the food and wine. Of course, they might have been less generous had the room been fuller. As it was, Emmy, Alex and Tess were the only guests here.
“One always hears such vitriol about inn fare,” Tess went on. “I could eat here every night and be perfectly content. The wine is more than acceptable, too.”
She raised her glass to her lips—her third glass—and drank deep.
“You’re going to give yourself a stomach ache if you keep that up,” Alex said. “And then you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
“Oh, tosh. You know I can sleep anywhere and at any time.” Tess pointed her fork at her brother. “It is you who has trouble sleeping. You had best hope the mattresses here are comfortable.”
Talk of mattresses led to thoughts of beds, which naturally led to thoughts of their wedding night. Emmy swallowed. She would be sharing a bedchamber—a bed —with her husband tonight.
Her husband. A man.
She reached for her glass of wine.
“How long will it take to get to Bristlewood tomorrow?” she asked, after she’d downed half the glass.
“If we depart at dawn, we should arrive by noon,” Alex said, apparently perfectly serious.
“Dawn?” Tess croaked out, her fork falling with a thunk on her plate.
Emmy pursed her lips. Her sentiments, exactly. “So,” she said slowly, “if we were to depart by, say, eight o’clock, we would arrive by two?”
Alex grinned at her unsubtle hint. “I thought you were an early riser.”
“An early riser, yes. A glutton for punishment, no.”
He chuckled. “Very well. Eight, it is.”
Tess picked up her fork and nodded her satisfaction. “I knew I would like having a sister-in-law.”
They spent the next half-hour sharing stories of childhood escapades, and Emmy heard a great deal about Bristlewood, which was, apparently, a drafty, towering stone structure that dated back to the sixteenth century and positively brimmed with character.
“I can’t wait to see it,” Emmy said sincerely. “It sounds like it was a wonderful place to grow up.”
“It was,” Tess said, sharing a smile with her brother.
“Well,” Alex said, “I think it’s time we all retired for the evening, hm? It’s been a long day, and I’m sure we’re all tired.”
“I know I am,” Tess said, eating one last bite of potato before pushing back her chair. “I could sleep for days.”
Emmy wasn’t tired, though. Not at all.
Emmy was nervous .
Alex moved to stand behind her, pulling her chair back as she stood on shaky legs, her heart thundering in her chest. Her husband’s hand cupped her elbow as they made their way from the dining room, and his nearness made her skin feel far too tight for her limbs. She swallowed.
Saints be, why was she so anxious?
Copulation was hardly a new invention. Sooner or later, most everyone did it. And now, it was her turn.
Yes, this would be her first foray into physical intimacy, but everyone who’d done it had had to do it a first time, hadn’t they?
It was not that serious.
She nibbled her lower lip. But it feels serious. Very much so.
The trio headed for their rooms, climbing the stairs in silence, and then Alex led the way down the corridor, halting in front of one of the many closed oaken doors.
“I’ve had your bags put in this chamber,” he said, looking first at Tess and then at Emmy, as if he meant her bags, too—but that couldn’t be correct.
Only, apparently it was.
“I think it would be best if you two shared a room tonight,” he said to Emmy. “I am…not comfortable leaving Tess alone in an inn.”
Emmy blinked. “Oh.”
The single syllable popped out of her mouth, propelled by surprise alone, but she quickly smoothed her features and smiled. “Of course, Alex.” She turned to Tess and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Tess reached for the doorknob and bid her brother a good night before stepping into the room.
Emmy followed, turning in the doorway to meet her new husband’s gaze. “Good night, Alex.”
“Good night,” he said softly. Perhaps even regretfully, but that could easily have been her injured pride making her see things. “Sleep well.”
She closed the door before her smile could slip, pausing for a moment to collect herself and try to tamp down the mass of emotions swirling inside her.
When she’d recovered her control, she turned to inspect the room where she would be spending her husband-less wedding night. It was small and tidy, sparsely but comfortably furnished with a bed, an escritoire and rugs and draperies in pretty shades of rose and sage.
Tess was standing at the bed, laying out her nightgown on the quilted counterpane.
“My brother is a touch too protective of me,” she said, glancing at Emmy with what seemed to be a mix of sympathy and chagrin. “I know this cannot be what you expected of your wedding night, but I must admit, I am glad not to be alone. I’ve never stayed at an inn before.”
Emmy crossed the room to the other side of the bed where her own portmanteau awaited her. “Where did you stay on your journey to London?”
“Nowhere. We left very early in the morning and made the trip in one day.”
“Well,” Emmy said, shaking the wrinkles from her nightgown, “I am confident our stay here will be an uneventful one, but should we be set upon by brigands in the middle of the night, I shall do my best to protect you.”
Tess grinned. “I almost hope we will be visited by brigands, if only to see you in action.”
Emmy picked up her hairbrush and waved it about like a weapon. “I’d give them all a good paddling, to be sure.”
Tess laughed and then they spent the next few minutes unpacking their things and helping each other out of their gowns and into their nightclothes.
Emmy climbed into bed and lay on her back with a sigh, her thoughts whirling.
She was perfectly willing to accept Alex’s reasons for asking her to stay with his sister tonight. Tess was rather sheltered, and this was a roadside inn, where strangers from all walks of life might seek accommodation. Alex was protective of his sister, and so was Emmy. She would always do whatever she could to make sure Tess was happy and safe.
Still, this was her wedding night. And she couldn’t help but feel a bit, well, put out that she’d spent the whole of the evening on tenterhooks for nothing.
That her new husband had not been similarly afflicted was just salt on the wound.
Was she the only one eager to consummate their marriage?
Honestly . Married for almost ten hours now and not even a peck on the cheek from her husband. If she were a more missish girl, she might be offended.
Fortunately, she was far too mulish to be missish, and too proud to dwell on hurt feelings for long. So Alex had delayed their wedding night. It was not the end of the world. He was simply looking out for his little sister, and how could she begrudge him that?
She couldn’t.
Of course she couldn’t.
“Good night, Emmy,” Tess said from her side of the bed, her smile sleepy. “I’m awfully glad my brother married you.”
Despite her roiling thoughts, Emmy managed to return her smile. “Good night, Tess. Sleep well.”
She waited while Tess settled deeper under the bed linens before snuffing out the candle on the bedside table. Rolling onto her side, she tucked the covers under her chin and closed her weary eyes.
What a day . The wedding had gone almost exactly as she’d expected it to—hectic, nerve-wracking, emotional—but the wedding night? She’d had no idea what to expect from that , though her mind had conjured up a parade of possibilities that ran the gamut from marvelous to mortifying.
She thought she’d considered them all, but clearly she was wrong, for never once in all her imaginings had she considered she might spend her wedding night with the groom’s sister instead of the groom.
“What a lovely inn,” Tess said the following morning as the trio climbed into the carriage to leave for Bristlewood. “Odd name, though. Is ‘river rooster’ what the locals call a duck?”
She sat down then glanced back and forth between Alex and Emmy, apparently expecting an answer.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Emmy said with as much grace as she could muster.
Her sister-in-law’s restless limbs had kept her up all night, and she was tired and grumpy and more than happy to leave the River Rooster Inn far, far behind her.
“I like that.” Alex rapped his knuckles on the ceiling to alert the driver they were ready to leave. “I think I’ll call them river roosters from now on.”
“Then what will you call roosters?” Tess asked.
Alex pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Cluck ducks, maybe?”
Tess laughed. “Oh, Alex, that is awful .”
Emmy sank deeper into her seat and sighed, only half-listening to the gratingly cheerful banter. She, apparently, was the only one who hadn’t slept well last night, a fact which irked her no end.
A better person would, of course, be glad to be the only one who’d suffered a sleepless night, but she was far too grumpy to care. Self-improvement would have to wait for another day.
Of course, when Alex had asked her earlier how she’d slept last night, she’d lied through her smile and said she slept like the dead. The last thing she wanted was her new husband thinking she’d been up all night because of him, a despondent bride with no bridegroom on her wedding night.
After all, she had her pride.
Fighting back a yawn, she turned her gaze to the passing countryside, the cool, gray morning making her yearn for another hot cup of coffee. She’d never been this far west before. Even beneath the dark gray sky, the rolling green hills and towering oaks were undeniably beautiful, and although it drizzled intermittently along the way, the journey passed without incident.
It was nearly three o’clock when Bristlewood finally came into view. Emmy’s mouth fell open at the sight of it. Tess and Alex had not been exaggerating when they’d called the place towering.
A behemoth structure constructed of gray granite, the castle—for that’s what it was, a bona fide castle—stood tall and formidable with turrets and parapets and, yes, even its own butter-churn tower with a bright red banner on top, kicking to and fro in the breeze.
Emmy gaped at it through the carriage window all the way up the lane and into the courtyard where the carriage came to a stop. The door opened immediately, and a groom appeared to hand the ladies down.
“Oh, it is good to be home,” Tess said, already loosening her bonnet strings as she stepped out onto the rain-misted gravel. “I’ve missed this place so much.”
Emmy stepped out after her, sweeping her gaze over the courtyard. It was difficult to imagine calling this mammoth stone fort home , but she supposed she would have to start. For better or worse, Bristlewood was her home now.
“Emmy.”
She turned at the sound of her name and met Alex’s gaze, noting instantly the hint of wariness in his eyes.
“Yes?” she asked. “What is it, Alex?”
He drew her aside, out of earshot of the servants, who were busily unloading the carriage.
“Before you meet my father,” he said, “I feel I ought to warn you that he can be…maudlin, at times. Mostly, he’s even-tempered, even charming, but occasionally he…isn’t.”
Emmy frowned, trying to understand. “Is he violent?”
“No, no,” Alex said hastily. “Never that. When these bouts of melancholy do crop up, he usually confines himself to his room to rest, but sometimes he…wanders. And I did not want you to be alarmed if you should come upon him during one of these episodes.”
Emmy nodded, her curiosity to meet Mr. Whitcomb flaring anew, even as her chest ached for him, this man whose wife had left him with a thoroughly broken heart.
“Thank you for warning me,” she said.
Alex smiled and squeezed her hand, his lips parting as if he meant to say more, just as an unfamiliar voice called out into the courtyard.
“Tessa-girl! You’re home!”
Emmy turned as an older gentleman with slate gray hair and stooped shoulders emerged from the house, arms outstretched, a beaming smile on his kindly, weathered face.
“Father!” Tess cried, launching herself at the man, and the two laughed joyfully, as if they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of weeks.
Emmy smiled as she watched them, her gaze taking in the man who was now her father-in-law. Like Alex, he was tall and broad, but with an air of frailty about him, not of body but of spirit.
Alex proffered his arm and Emmy took it, walking with him across the courtyard towards his father and sister.
Mr. Whitcomb’s brown eyes, when they met hers, were curious and gentle.
“And who is this, Alex?” he said, holding his hand out to Emmy. “Is this lovely girl your new bride?”
“She is, sir. This is Lady Emmaline. Emmy.”
Smiling warmly, she bobbed a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Whitcomb.”
The gentleman took Emmy’s hands in his, and said gruffly, “The pleasure is all mine, my dear. Welcome to Bristlewood.”
His eyes glistened with emotion, and Emmy’s chest grew tight, as if bearing the weight of his expectations. His hopes. It was too much, and she wanted to run.
“Shall we all go inside?” Alex said gently, laying a hand on his father’s shoulder.
“Right. Yes, of course,” Mr. Whitcomb said before turning for the door. “Shall we, Tessa-girl?”
Tess slipped her hand around her father’s proffered elbow and the two headed for the house. Breathing a discreet sigh of relief, Emmy followed them into the entrance hall with Alex right behind her.
She had all of three seconds to take in the cavernous hall before two hairy, four-legged creatures burst in, their nails clacking on the marble floor, tongues and tails announcing their excitement.
“Who is this?” Emmy asked, bending down to greet the larger deerhound. Her question was met with a flurry of wet kisses on her face, and she laughed, scratching the dog’s velvety ears.
“That is Prescott,” Alex said with an affectionate smile. “And this is his sister, Gracie.”
Emmy reached a hand out, but Gracie shied away, eyeing her for a moment before tentatively sniffing her palm.
“Good day to you, Gracie,” she said softly.
Gracie gave her palm a single swipe of her tongue before plopping on her haunches, apparently satisfied the threat was over.
“I suppose that means I passed muster,” Emmy said, rising to her feet.
“I knew they’d adore you,” Alex said as he gave each hound a pat on the head.
“Can we take Emmy on a tour of the house now?” Tess asked. “I cannot wait to show her the solarium.”
“You’ve only just arrived, my dear,” Mr. Whitcomb said. “I think your brother’s new bride would appreciate a few minutes to freshen up after your journey.”
“I would, rather,” Emmy admitted. “And a cup of tea would be much appreciated, too.”
“Of course,” Alex said. “Tess will have a tray brought to your bedchamber, and I will show you the way there now. Come with me.”
Alex led Emmy up the stairs, stealing glances at her as she took in her surroundings, and not for the first time today, he wondered what was going on inside that head of hers.
Her demeanor had been odd all day. Not cross, exactly, but certainly quiet, and a quiet Emmy made him uncomfortable. He assumed the reason for her reserve was the changes her life was taking, which would make anyone uneasy, but he’d had no chance to ask her, and he’d been on tenterhooks all day because of it.
“You’ve made my father very happy,” he said as they reached the top of the stairs. He paused there and turned to face her. “Thank you again for agreeing to come. I know you would rather have stayed in London.”
Emmy gave him a small smile. “It was the right decision.”
Alex nodded, though her answer did not satisfy. Perhaps it had been the right decision, but was she glad she’d made it? Or did she already regret it?
The question hovered on his tongue, but he hesitated, torn between his desire to know and his fear of her answer.
In the end, cowardice won out and he set off again, leading her up the corridor in silence.
“Here we are,” he said, pausing in front of her bedchamber door, his mild tone of voice belying his roiling nerves. “I hope this chamber will be sufficient for you.”
He turned the knob and pushed open the door. Emmy stepped into the spacious room, inspecting it in silence, her expression giving nothing away.
“As mistress of the house, you are entitled to the mistress’s chambers,” Alex said. “But that would require asking my father to move from the master’s chamber, and I did not have the heart to ask him to give it up.” He extended a hand toward the wall to his left. “My chamber is just next door.”
Emmy nodded, though she would not meet his gaze, and that polite smile was still maddeningly in place. “I am certain this room will be more than sufficient, thank you.”
Alex stepped inside, clasping his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat. “Emmy,” he said quietly, “is something troubling you? You seem…not yourself. Are you unwell?”
She turned away, showing him her back as she ran a hand over the emerald silk coverlet on the bed. “It’s only nerves. All this change and newness has me feeling a bit askew, that’s all.”
Alex frowned. “You seemed fine a few minutes ago with my father and Tess.” He took another step toward her but stilled when her back stiffened. “Is it me?” he asked. “Have I done something to upset you?”
The question was met with weighted silence, and then: “I am not upset.”
His frown deepened. “Then what are you?” Because she was certainly something.
She did not answer for another long moment and then her shoulders sagged with a defeated sigh. “I’m confused,” she said, turning to face him. “And a little hurt, if I’m honest.” For some reason, that made her grimace, and her cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t going to admit that part.”
“Hurt?” Alex parroted. “Over what?” He slipped his hands in his pockets, racking his brain for what he might have done to hurt her, but nothing came to him.
“I spent our wedding night with your sister, Alex,” she said, exasperation in her voice. “I understand why you wanted me to stay with her, and I also understand that our union was not a love match, but I thought…when you kissed me…” She sighed again, the color in her cheeks deepening to scarlet. “Well, I thought you enjoyed it.”
For several sluggish heartbeats, Alex could do nothing but stare at her, utterly gobsmacked.
God’s teeth, she thought he didn’t desire her.
The notion would have been laughable had he felt like laughing.
“I did enjoy it,” he said, the words an awkward rasp. “I’ve thought of little else since.”
Her gray eyes narrowed but she did not argue, apparently unconvinced yet not entirely unreceptive, so Alex pressed on, his heart thudding with the unease of impending confession.
“I’d have liked nothing more than to spend our wedding night together, but I wanted better than a roadside inn for your first time.” He paused. “And my own.”
She blinked at him, her lips parting as his words sank in. “Your first…” She frowned. “Do you mean to say you’ve never…” Her hands flailed as if grasping for the words.
“No.” He shook his head. “Never.”
“Oh.”
“Most men my age have, I suppose, but the notion of paying a courtesan—a stranger—to satisfy my needs never held any appeal.” He stepped forward, taking Emmy’s hands in his. “ You appeal to me. Put plainly, I lust for you. I want to make love to you tonight, and if you wish to make love with me, I promise I will do everything in my power to make it a satisfying experience for you.”
He wished he could guarantee a night of unbridled ecstasy, but he never had been one for making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. He would aim for ecstasy and hope for the best. And if the experience was at least mostly pleasurable for her, he would have to be happy with that. For his first attempt, at least.
“I do want to,” Emmy said, her smile small but genuine. “I admit to feeling a bit nervous, but I’m curious, as well.”
Nervous and curious.
Yes, Alex felt that, too. Mostly, though, he was excited. Eager. Lustful.
Even just being alone in this room with his wife and a bed was a temptation almost too great to resist. He wanted to kiss her.
He was desperate to kiss her.
He couldn’t kiss her.
Not with a bed nearby.
Abruptly, he released Emmy’s hands and stepped back, edging toward the door. “We dine at five,” he said. “I’ll collect you then and escort you to the dining room.”
Emmy nodded. “I shall see you then.”
Turning on his heel, Alex quit the room without a backward glance, and pulled the door shut behind him. It was several seconds before he moved away, his gaze riveted on his hand still gripping the doorknob, as if refusing to let go.
Desire pulsed through him, erotic images slinking through his mind. With herculean strength, he released the door handle and strode toward his own chamber, inhaling several deep breaths of mind-clearing oxygen as he tried not to think of the uncomfortable hours ahead of him.
Perhaps a cold bath before dinner was in order.
Perhaps a long , cold bath.