Chapter 2
MELLIE PAUSED OUTSIDE the study door to catch her breath.
Glancing about the winter-shrouded garden behind her, she marveled at how dissimilar it appeared to the day she and Brigham were wed; no blossoms held tightly to their stems, all the leaves had abandoned their branches to make room for new ones to bud in the spring, and, perhaps the most startling difference, the area’s lack of green.
It was as if the garden sensed the house was in great mourning.
Her inhales and exhales returned to normal, and she lowered her hood to run her fingers through her knotted hair, made all the more tangled from her mad sprint back to the house.
There was nothing she could do to right her haphazard appearance, however. Not that she’d ever noticed if Brigham took interest in her with regards to her dress and hair.
Mellie listened at the door for a moment but heard no sounds from inside Brigham’s study.
She favored the room because she could come and go without the pitying looks or words of condolences from the servants.
In this space, she could read, write, or just sit in silence.
No one entered the room except to perform the normal weekly dusting and polishing of the wood.
In the study, Mellie was not the pitiful, pauper daughter of a baron.
She knew the servants only meant to be kind, yet their delicate treatment of her did more to make her feel like a guest in her own home rather than the lady of the manor.
Shaking her head to clear her last thought before tears sprang to her eyes, Mellie pushed the door open on silent hinges and slipped inside, quick to close and latch the door behind her to keep out the winter cold.
With any luck, she’d be able to hurry up to her chambers and have Lilly brush and pin her hair before Brigham sent for her. Perhaps he wouldn’t call for her but retire to his own room.
Something had to be amiss, for Brigham had sent word he’d arrive on the morrow.
Mellie turned toward the door as a loud exhale sounded in the room, causing her to jump in fright, her hip hitting the table and scattering the collection of figurines that had been arranged with precise care on top.
Brigham lifted his head from his desk, his glasses askew, and his short curls disheveled. Straightening his glasses, he looked as if he attempted to focus on what had disturbed his slumber.
“My lord,” she squeaked, glancing down at the floor and the strewn figurines. “I did not mean to wake you…nor knock your collection from the table.” She quickly knelt down and collected the tiny statues, arranging them as best she could.
He remained silent as Mellie stood and turned to face him once more, begging herself to look contrite over her trespassing into his private study, waking him, and spilling his figurines to the floor. Thankfully, her clumsiness hadn’t resulted in any of Brigham’s collection breaking.
To her shock, it wasn’t anger or irritation she saw in his expression, nor even frustration at her unexpected distraction.
Mellie stood still before her husband as his stare trailed from her wild, windblown hair to her open cloak that revealed her black gown beneath, to her boot-clad toes then back again, settling somewhere between her bosom and her neck.
Her stomach tightened when she noted his eyes darkening, his lids closing slightly as he gazed up at her from his seated position.
If he’d ever looked at her thusly, Mellie did not remember…
and it would be very difficult to forget the raw longing in his eyes.
Her nipples tightened into hard buds under her coarse shift.
If she were not standing before Brigham, she’d dispel with her clothing, as its touch irritated her sensitive skin.
Her chin notched an inch higher. Heat, a pure, scorching warmth pooled between her legs, and her knees quivered.
The slight magnification of his brown eyes behind his spectacles only intensified the desire evident in his eyes.
The orbs, normally a deep cocoa hue, now flamed like honey as he continued to stare at her.
He pushed back his chair and stood, making her nerves jitter as he refrained from uttering a single word.
Perhaps words are unnecessary, Mellie mused.
The lust in his stare was like a thousand utterances, and each had pulses of pleasure coursing through her. She may be as yet untouched, but Mellie was not ignorant of what transpired between a man and a woman when the door was closed.
Could seducing one’s husband be such a simple feat?
Unfortunately, or likely fortunately, they were not in a private chamber but the study. A servant could enter at any moment with a meal or tea for Brigham.
She swallowed, the sound echoing in the quiet room, and she demanded her heart stop racing and her breathing return to normal.
Certainly, he was tired from his travels, hungry for his noonday meal, and looking forward to a few private moments—which Mellie had interrupted.
“I will leave you to some privacy,” she mumbled, breaking their stare. “My apologies for interrupting—“
“No.” It was spoken quietly, but with a force no amount of volume could match. “Please…stay.”
The simple plea had Mellie transfixed. Even if a fire raged around them both, she would be unable to flee the room and Brigham’s presence.