Chapter 24
Over the next fortnight, Linnie spent every day living in the girlhood dream she’d carried of being Lady Jeremy Tremaine.
Only each day was very real.
She and Jeremy spent most of their nights making love.
As they did their mornings.
And afternoons.
There wasn’t a part of her body he didn’t explore or a new, magnificent wonder he didn’t teach her, and each time she learned something new about him and how to bring him the greatest pleasure.
And perhaps she would’ve thought maybe his need for her was of the physical sort alone, were it not for all the ways in which they spent time together that did not include making love.
In fact, of all the most intimate acts they’d done with one another, none of it compared to the quiet moments she spent curled up on the leather button sofa in his office while he worked raptly.
In those moments, she learned so many little details about him—the tiny ones that were a window into the life she’d wondered about.
He began his day, generally, in a customary blue morning coat and fawn breeches.
He favored a blanc d’innocence virginale cravat and always in a ballroom tie.
As the morning progressed, without even taking his head up from his work, he’d write with one hand while, with his other, he unfastened the gilt buttons along his jacket first. Nearly an hour later, he’d loosen his cravat, and some minutes after that, he’d draw it free entirely and toss it aside.
Sometimes it fell upon the floor forgotten.
Other times the silk landed on a nearby ledger.
He read his notes so intently, and for so long, he eventually squinted from the strain of his eyes.
They were the most mundane details, and yet each and every one captivated her.
Curled up in the customary corner of her sofa right now while her husband sat working proved no different.
Having long since paused from her reading, Linnie peeked over the top of her book at where her husband sat with his muslin shirtsleeves pushed up, intently reading through folios his man of affairs had hand-delivered earlier.
Linnie gave her head a shake and returned to her reading.
She smiled wistfully. Sometimes she envied those pages that captivated him.
“Dare I ask the reason for that mysterious little smile, dear wife?”
And sometimes when she thought he was fully engrossed in his task and she was an afterthought, he’d surprise her.
Linnie picked her head up. “I would embarrass myself if I did tell you, dear husband.”
With a rogue’s grin, Jeremy pushed aside his folders, laid his forearms upon the neat surface of his desk, and leaned forward. “Oh, do tell, love,” he purred.
“It is not . . . that.”
“That?” He managed to infuse an extra two syllables into the single-word utterance.
Her cheeks warmed.
And as was customary, whenever he brought her to blush, his smile widened.
Linnie drew her knees closer to her chest and dropped her chin atop them. “I am humbled to admit to a fit of jealousy.”
Jeremy sat up straighter. “Indeed?” He scoffed. “Why? I haven’t been away from your side since the day you became Lady Jeremy Tremaine.”
Linnie nodded solemnly. “This is true.”
“And surely given the frequency with which I make love to you, you cannot believe me inconstant.”
“No, you are quite constant.”
Jeremy arched an eyebrow. “A complaint, love?”
“Oh, never. Just the opposite, husband.” She paused. “My one complaint?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m all ears, Lady Jeremy Tremaine.”
She bowed her head. “I will never have enough of you, Lord Jeremy Tremaine.”
His eyes grew heavy.
Unlike Linnie, however, her husband had a frustratingly superhuman self-control. “What is it I’ve done, then, to earn my beautiful bride’s disapproval?”
His beautiful bride.
Warmth radiated throughout her. “Given we’ve been married ten—nearly eleven—days, is it still fair to refer to me as your bride?”
“You’ll always be my beautiful bride and wife,” he responded so quickly, so simply, her heart fluttered. “Given you’ve such an accurate count, should I be concerned?”
“Not at all,” she said softly.
“It does not escape me you’ve still not answered my question.”
“No, I haven’t. I am being deliberately evasive.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Very well. I find myself, dare I say, envious of the work that so occupies you.”
“Ah, I have been neglectful.”
“No,” she allowed. “I just want all of you.”
“Let me rectify that. Far be it for me to deny you . . .”
“I . . . meant all of you, Jeremy,” she said, letting go of her teasing tone.
He frowned.
“I spend all day in your office with you while you work, and yet we never talk about what you are doing or working on.”
Like this bothered him, the lines at the corners of his mouth deepened. “And it is important you know about my work?”
For the first time in the eleven days since she’d been blissfully happily married to her husband, doubt swirled. “Are you suspicious of my reasons, husband?” She couldn’t mask her hurt.
Jeremy dusted a hand across his mouth. “Christ, I . . .” His pallor went greyish. “No,” he said with such resolution it was as though he tried to convince himself. “I know you wouldn’t betray me.”
No matter how he’d ultimately answered, he’d hesitated.
Her heart lurched. “Do you truly know that?”
With slow, languid movements, he pushed his chair back, and folding his arms behind his head, he reclined in the leather wingback frame. “Come here, wife.”
Her breath hitched.
Linnie didn’t hesitate. Slowly closing her book, she went to set it aside.
“Bring your book.”
Bring her . . .
Linnie got up on unsteady feet and joined him at his desk. She stood beside his chair and awaited his directive.
“Climb on my lap, love.” His voice contained a slight husk.
Linnie did as directed and eased herself onto him sideways.
Jeremy plucked her reading material from her fingers and held it aloft so he could better inspect. “Ramblin’ Jack,” he murmured.
“The Journal of Captain John Cremer.” It was stupid to clarify the rest of that title which he clearly saw and read with his own eyes.
He fanned the pages.
She adjusted herself on his lap, drawing closer to his chest.
“The Grand Taylor’s daughter enchanted me with loving kisses,” he read aloud, “and tender of me that I should tarry a little while with them; which ruined my intention to go with my Captain.”
Her husband paused.
Oh, God. He’d landed at the part she’d read ad nauseum to the point she’d forever creased the page. Linnie wanted to curl up even more in him, but this time to hide. Doing so would give her away in all her humiliation.
Her shame was not complete. Jeremy resumed reading. “Now for my part I thought of home for fear the girls Should draw me in for Marriage as they are cunning anuf, and I found out their trap.”
He paused, and she waited in misery for him to begin again.
At his continued silence, she cleared her throat. “I . . . found it in your library.”
“You have an affinity for tales set at sea, Linnie?” Her inexpressive husband gave no clue as to his thoughts.
“Yes. I’ve read a number of them. The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African. The Female Soldier; Or, The Surprising Life and Adventures of Hannah Snell.”
Linnie tried to stop herself from rattling off, to no avail. “Memoirs of a Seafaring Life: The Narrative of William Spavens. The Life and Surprizing Adventures of James Wyatt. Samuel Kelly: An Eighteenth Century Seaman, Whose Days Have Been Few and Evil. I sneaked them all from Arran’s library.”
Linnie winced.
Cursing her loose tongue, she rushed to cover up her misstep. “But I never read this one. The Journal of Captain John Cremer,” she finished shakily.
Linnie stared down at Jeremy’s lap. Why couldn’t it be as it once was between their families? What she wouldn’t give to undo the past, so that her future with Jeremy might be different.
Jeremy guided her gaze to his. The warmth and tenderness in the greys of his eyes stole her breath away.
An enigmatic smile played on his lips. “Even after all these years knowing you, you are a delightful mystery I’m still learning new things about, Linnie Tremaine.”
She went warm all over.
“Such as,” he murmured, “the fact you dog-ear the pages in books you are reading.”
“I am sorry,” she blurted. “I did not mean to ruin your—”
Jeremy kissed away the rest of her apology. He stopped all too soon; his lips remained near hers. “Linnie, you can tear out the pages in every last book in England, and I couldn’t be displeased with you.”
A sense of weightlessness threatened to carry her away.
She smoothed her palms in an alternating rhythm against his chest. “You may rest assured, I would never do that.”
Jeremy joined his hand with one of Linnie’s. “I remember how you always enjoyed reading.” He guided her fingers to his mouth and placed a reverent kiss upon the tops of them. “It is another reason I—”
All Linnie’s breath bottled up in her chest.
“Admire you.”
Admire you.
That lodged air slipped out on a regret-filled sigh.
Jeremy frowned.
Anticipating he’d ask about her sudden despondency, Linnie steered their conversation to safer grounds. “You prefer a ribbon to mark your place?”
“Not a ribbon, exactly. A small strip of rope from the first ship I sailed on.” Leaning toward his desk, and carrying her forward in the process, Jeremy flipped open an ancient-looking leather journal.
Her gaze caught lines of numbers and markings she recognized from going through Arran’s things as a girl.
Sailing coordinates.
Her stomach sank.
He was planning to leave . . .
That explained why Jeremy worked steadfastly throughout the day.
As he grabbed the small rope and handed the special piece over for her examination, Linnie pulled herself back from the doleful musings.
She studied the slender, braided strings. “Did you make this?”