Chapter Nine
Lucy asked the question out of pure curiosity, of course. It wasn’t as if she was afraid of the ghost. Not really. One couldn’t be afraid of something that didn’t exist!
Even so, she held her breath as she waited for her husband to answer. And waited. She finally expelled her breath in a huff. Was he going to answer her at all?
Devlin turned back to face her. “This is a conversation that might best be saved for the light of day. I think we ought to get some rest tonight. We will have plenty of time to discuss it tomorrow.”
Her heart beat faster. “You do believe in it.” She should’ve guessed, given that he’d tried to lay her to rest when they first met. “Have you seen the ghost yourself?”
He shook his head. “I have not seen the ghost.” She relaxed, until he added, “But yes, I do believe in it, for a variety of reasons. I’m willing to answer all your questions about the Veiled Lady, but as I said, I believe that conversation should wait until morning.”
She gaped at him. “Do you think I’m going to fall back asleep after hearing that? In a haunted room?”
“Technically, the whole house is haunted,” he pointed out. “Not just this specific room. If that’s any comfort.”
Lucy bit her lip to hold back a bitter laugh. How was that supposed to comfort her? “Perhaps I ought to sleep in the dower house. Unless it is haunted too?”
He sighed. Then he sat down again—this time, much closer to her. She felt the heat of his body even through the heavy blankets. Strange how cold the room had gotten. Hadn’t it been warmer five minutes ago?
“So far as I know, the dower house has never been visited by any ghost,” he told her. “But it is currently being cleaned and refurbished for my stepmother’s use. I doubt there would be a bedchamber ready for you tonight. If you are really frightened, though, I can sleep in your room.”
Lucy gasped. Surely, he didn’t mean—
“On the floor,” he clarified. “The carpet ought to make it comfortable enough.”
That was a lie if ever Lucy heard one. A modern Brussels rug covered most of the floor, but there were hard floorboards beneath it. It was ridiculous for Devlin to sleep on the floor when his own bed was mere yards away.
But his offer tempted her. She would feel a little more comfortable with someone else in the room, although she had no idea what Devlin could do to protect her in the event of a ghostly apparition.
“Shall I fetch a blanket from my room?”
She shivered in sympathy. It would take more than one blanket to keep him comfortable tonight. It might only be the first of November, but it felt like January.
Lucy glanced at the empty space on the bed. A bed this wide ought to have room enough for both of them. She closed her eyes, drew a breath, and blurted out: “I think we should just share the bed. It will be warmer that way.”
Devlin made a sputtering sound. At first, she thought she’d shocked him. Then she realized he was snickering.
“I meant for sleep only! I wasn’t suggesting that we should. . . you know.” Lucy snapped her mouth shut. She was a grown woman; she ought to be able to discuss the marriage bed with her own husband without resorting to babbling.
He brought his laughter under control. “I knew what you meant.” He covered her hand with his own. “I will accept your generous offer, for the night is cold.”
When his bare skin pressed against hers, Lucy’s heart momentarily stopped beating. Then it galloped back into motion, leaving her almost dizzy.
“Let me make room for you.” She scooted away from him, pulse still racing. If she reacted this way to the mere touch of her husband’s hand, how would it feel if he. . .? She dared not think about it.
As Devlin settled into bed, Lucy turned her back to him, hoping for the illusion of privacy. Now that he was here, the bed no longer seemed quite so wide. How was she supposed to fall back asleep when her husband lay right beside her? It was going to be a long night.
Still, she was tired, and there were hours yet before morning. She closed her eyes and, contrary to her expectations, promptly slipped back into sleep.
*
The next thing she knew, morning light filled the room. Lucy blinked, yawned, and stretched. But her stretch encountered unexpected resistance.
“Ouch!” someone rumbled. “That was my head!”
“Oh!” Lucy bolted upright. There was a man in her bed! Her husband, to be precise.
She rubbed her eyes, blinked, and stared at him. He smiled lazily up at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. The lower half of his face bristled with dark stubble.
He ran a hand along his jawline, looking suddenly self-conscious. “I suppose you’re not used to seeing me before I shave. I hope my scruffiness doesn’t frighten you.”
Lucy shook her head. If anything, seeing him in such intimacy made him look more attractive. She longed to run a hand along his jawline to feel the stubble. She clenched the blanket tightly in both hands to ward off the temptation.
Devlin’s eyes darkened. “You are my wife, you know. You are welcome to look your fill. Or”—his voice deepened to a hoarse rasp—“to do more than look.”
Lucy gulped. She did want to touch him. Her whole body thrummed with anticipation as she hesitantly reached out to touch his cheek. The dark stubble was stiffer than she’d expected, coarse to the touch.
When her thumb brushed against his lower lip, she froze. His mouth was soft and warm and, as he pulled another of his trademark crooked smiles, deliciously mobile.
Devlin caught her hand and planted a kiss on the palm. When he moved his mouth to the delicate skin of her wrist, Lucy’s head spun.
I am dead, she thought. I am dead and this is the afterlife. Heaven? Hell? She had no idea. She only knew that she wanted this—whatever it was—to continue.
Then her bedroom door swung open. “My lady, I’ve brought your morning chocolate—oh!” Kitty’s face turned scarlet when she saw that her mistress was not alone. “So very sorry.” She backed out of the room.
But the moment was ruined. Lucy burned with shame at having been caught by her maid in the act of—well, of whatever they were doing.
“I suppose I had better leave you to your chocolate.” Devlin sounded regretful as he rolled out of bed. “My solicitor may call today, and I ought to prepare. We will have to continue this later.”
“Yes, later,” she murmured in response.
Left to herself, she sipped her chocolate and thought about how fortunate she was to enjoy such luxuries. This time, though, the rich beverage left her strangely unsatisfied.