Chapter 3
Three
Kendra
A month later
Amberley House
AT TWO HOURS past midnight, the Duchess of Amberley was wrapping the last of her gifts when she finally gave up hoping the duke would arrive home in time for Christmas.
Kendra tied the final ribbon with a sigh.
In twenty years of marriage, she and her husband—Patrick, though she called him Trick—had never spent her favorite holiday apart.
But Trick had been summoned to Scotland, where his father was dying, and Kendra hadn’t been able to go with him, because the twins were ill and she had been loath to leave them.
More than two months later, all four of their children were healthy, but Trick still hadn’t returned.
Oh, he’d sent messages. One after another, full of excellent excuses.
His father lived longer than expected—that had been a good thing, giving the two of them precious extra time together.
When Hamish finally passed on, the wake lasted a week.
After that, Trick’s brother Niall had needed his help to settle their father’s affairs, and then a big storm hit, keeping him from leaving.
Nine long weeks. Kendra missed Trick’s smile. She missed his companionship. She missed his quick wit.
But most of all, she missed Trick in her bed.
God, did she miss Trick in her bed.
“Your grace? Are you all right?”
“Oh!” Kendra whirled to see her lady’s maid in the doorway. “You scared me. Goodness, Margaret, we’re leaving for Lakefield first thing in the morning. What are you doing up at this hour?”
“Waiting for you to go to bed, your grace,” the young woman said through a yawn. “Pray pardon. I’m not as sleepy as I appear.”
“Of course you’re sleepy.” The poor girl looked exhausted, her russet hair drooping along with her shoulders. “There’s no need for you to wait up for me. I can undress myself, you know.”
“I don’t want you to have to undress yourself. I owe you and your husband everything, your grace.”
Margaret had grown up at Trick’s orphanage.
Kendra liked to hire the orphans when they came of age, to make sure they were trained properly before finding them other employment.
“You owe us nothing, Margaret. You’ve done us proud.
In fact, you’ve grown into such a fine lady’s maid that I think it’s time for us to find you a permanent position. ”
A wave of panic filled the maid’s big blue eyes. “A permanent position, your grace? With whom? Where?”
“With a fine lady anywhere. London, perhaps. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
“No! Can I not stay here at Amberley? I’ll do anything, your grace. I’ll wash laundry. I’ll scrub floors. Anything at all. I’ll go back to the orphanage—”
“My heavens, Margaret, there’s no need to get overwrought. You’re too old for the orphanage.” Thinking about Trick’s orphanage made Kendra think about Trick, which made her restless. “We’ll discuss this another time. Go on to bed.”
“If you’re sure you have no need of assistance, your grace.”
“I’m sure.” Kendra didn’t want help tonight. She wanted to be alone with her disappointment. “Good night.”
Tying a ribbon around the last gift, Kendra listened as Margaret’s footsteps faded into the distance. Then she placed the gift on the pile with all the others and left the sitting room.
She’d been having trouble falling asleep these past weeks in her lonely, lonely bed. But it was very late, and she’d spent the day busily preparing for travel, so she had high hopes of dropping off quickly. To ensure that, she took a detour to the pantry to collect a decanter of wine.
Then nearly spilled it when she reached her chamber to find Trick there, sitting on the large wooden chest at the foot of their bed, pulling off his boots.
“What—when did you arrive?” she gasped, rushing over to throw her arms around him.
He laughed. “Only just now. I’ve been riding all day. Thought I’d find you in here so late at night, but I didn’t. Wanted to get these muddy boots off before I went looking for you—”
His explanation was cut off when Kendra pressed her mouth to his.
The kiss was demanding, intoxicating, wild with long-denied desire. She felt herself sinking into it, savoring the velvet warmth she’d so missed.
Before she was ready, Trick broke it off. “Um, leannan? I think you’re spilling something down my back.”
“Oh, my God.” She stepped away, righting the decanter she’d tipped. “It’s wine,” she said, walking over to set it on the dressing table. “I’m sorry. Let’s get this wine-wet shirt off of you.”
He rose, and his fingers went to the laces at his throat. “Is that a gleam I see in your eye, leannan?”
“I’ve missed you.” She went on her toes to pull the shirt off over his head. “I want you,” she added, running her hands down his bare chest. “Oh, you’re cold.”
“Sixteen hours on the road in winter will chill the bones a bit. And I want you, too—so much—but I haven’t had a proper bath since I left Scotland.”
“Well, let’s ring for one, then. Quickly.”
“Already done. In fact, I believe it’s arriving now.” He sat back down on the chest. “I wouldn’t mind some of that wine while we wait.”
Kendra pulled two goblets from a cabinet and filled them while three burly footmen brought the big wooden tub inside and placed it in a corner. She handed Trick one of the goblets. More sleepy servants paraded in with steaming buckets of water.
Meanwhile, she fetched soap and some towels, anxious for everyone to leave so she could be alone with Trick again. Remembering him climbing into a tub with her more than once, she thought she’d do the same. She would wash him.
She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him.
She couldn’t believe he was here. After weeks apart, he was here. Her whole body seemed on fire.
“Quickly,” she told the servants. “Quickly.”
At last, she and Trick were alone. As the door closed behind the last footman, Trick pushed his breeches down and off and stepped into the tub.
Hurrying into their dressing room, Kendra kicked off her shoes, suddenly wishing she had Margaret to help her.
Stockings, stomacher, laces, overdress, underskirt…
undressing seemed to take forever, even though she didn’t bother to put anything away, opting to leave it all on the floor for Margaret or someone else to pick up in the morning.
At long last she walked back to the bedroom, approaching her husband with a big smile. And stopped short.
“Trick?”
His head was tilted back against the edge of the tub, his empty goblet on the floor beside it. He looked to be sound asleep.
“Trick?” She walked over and jogged his shoulder. “Trick, wake up so we can get you washed and into bed.”
Not a sound. Not a movement. Nothing.
“Trick?” She shook him harder.
“Tired,” he murmured. A moment later he was snoring.
He was home, and she was burning. Moreover, she was standing beside him, naked as the day she was born—and he was sleeping. “Curses,” she said aloud and knelt down to wash him.
He slept on.