Chapter Seven #2
The bath had already been brought up and a procession of servants came with hot water to fill it.
Making the excuse of checking on the horses, Deo took Kester and left Emily to enjoy her bath in peace and came back half an hour later to find her sitting in a robe by the fire, combing out her flowing hair.
He stopped in the doorway, shocked, for it was the first time he had seen it out of its usual neat chignon, let down apparently after her bath was complete.
It was an unusual color, brown with blonde streaks.
It fell to the middle of her back in a cascade of inviting waves.
The room seemed smaller all of a sudden, and his earlier panic threatened to reemerge.
“I trust your bath was enjoyable?” he said, moving into the room and closing the door.
She began replaiting her hair. “Yes, very satisfactory, thank you.”
“The food should be up shortly,” he said and moved across to the dresser, where his valise had been left.
The bulk of his luggage, equipment, and books had gone ahead with Stevens and Jenny.
He removed his jacket, neckcloth and waistcoat and put on the robe he always wore to relax in.
He removed his boots and put on his slippers. That feels better.
He turned to find she had finished plaiting her hair.
It was now confined to a long, thick rope hanging over her shoulder.
Her robe, which was of plain blue silk, was tied at the waist over a high-necked white nightgown.
He could see nothing through the fabric, but even so, the intimacy of it made him flushed and hot.
A knock at the door heralded the arrival of dinner, much to his relief. He set out a bowl for Kester by the fire before sitting down himself. As they ate, he tried to distract her and himself by talking about The Castle.
“It’s the ruins of the original Norman keep that give it the name of The Castle,” he said.
“The house itself is quite modern. It will be interesting to find out where this Celtic cross and burial are located on the grounds. The Latin inscription is only partially legible, but we may be able to take a rubbing and make out some of the lost letters.”
“It would be terribly exciting if we could identify who is interred there,” Emily replied. “From Lord Aberdeen’s letter, I gather that the duke concluded the person had been subject to damnatio memoriae.”
“Yes, which if true, would mean he had fallen out of political favor with someone powerful. Some long-forgotten king, perhaps.” He smiled with excitement.
These were the moments he treasured most with her, when their shared love of history came to the fore, and she glowed at him like a portrait in candlelight.
Her cheeks were flushed—with happiness, not embarrassment this time—and her eyes looked green in the soft glow of the room.
Her rosebud mouth stretched wide in a smile.
It was in these moments that she was most beautiful.
After the meal, Deo took Kes out quickly to relieve himself and upon his return suggested to Emily that if she was tired, she should retire, and he would join her shortly. He thought if she were already asleep, he could disrobe, wash, and slip into the bed without disturbing her.
Emily agreed and, getting out her book, she clambered into the big bed and nestled into the pillows with it.
Deo settled himself by the fire with his book and tried to stop himself sneaking looks at her.
He told himself he was checking to see if she was asleep yet, but it was more for the felicity of seeing her curled up in the bank of white pillows, the long plait of thick hair lying across the gentle rise of her bosom in its robe and gown that had him fascinated.
A strange possessive pride stole over him. My wife.
He dragged his gaze back to his book and tried to concentrate. She rustled around in the bed, and Kes, who had been lying at his feet, suddenly got up and leaped up onto the bed, shocking her into a yelp of surprise. “Kester!” she said, with a laugh and rumpled his ears, stroking his head.
“Kes—” he said peremptorily. “He’s not supposed to do that unless he is invited. Kes, get down.” Kes obeyed sheepishly, jumping down with a thud.
“Oh no! I don’t mind; he will keep my feet warm,” she said in protest.
“Very well, invite him up. Say ‘Kes, up’ and lift your hand.”
“Kes, up!” she said, gesturing with her hand. Kester glanced at him for permission, jumped when he nodded, settling down on her feet with a deep sigh of contentment.
That was another thing in her favor: Kes was obviously very fond of her already.
The clock ticked on the mantle slowly, and eventually he looked up when a candle guttered to find she had fallen asleep over her book.
Rising quietly, he moved the book to the bedside table and removed his shirt, but he left his breeches on.
He always slept naked, but he thought it would be impolite to do so tonight.
He might frighten her. She had probably never seen a naked man in her life.
He performed a quick wash and, blowing out most of the candles, he crept to the bed and slid into his side of it.
Lying back gingerly into the pillows, he looked across at her.
She is so damned lovely! He had never put much value on female beauty before.
He had been so focused on wanting a woman he felt comfortable talking to.
The pretty ones had just made him uncomfortable.
Beautiful women disturbed his equilibrium and made him tongue-tied.
Made him feel like he was fifteen again and making a fool of himself.
Emily—Emily was different. He had thought her pretty enough when she first arrived, but not so beautiful as to reduce him to a puddle of incoherence.
She was rapidly becoming much prettier every time he looked at her.
Just then her eyelids flickered, and she opened her eyes, staring straight at him. The impact made his heart stop, and his cock stirred to life, without his volition. He flushed and she smiled.
“Deo,” her voice was soft and husky with sleep.
“Yes?” His voice came out croaky, and he cleared his throat.
She shifted in the bed, making the mattress dip and causing him to roll toward her. He was much heavier than her. He put out an arm to stop himself rolling on top of her and stared down at her, fascinated and terrified at once.
She blinked up at him. Then she bit her lovely, plump bottom lip, and he swallowed a groan with difficulty. I need to get out of this bed, now!
But he didn’t. He continued to stare down at her.
“Deo, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said hesitantly.
“Yes?” he said again.
“I—I lied to you.”
Her words penetrated his brain slowly, and he pulled back a fraction, the thudding of his heart interrupted by a skip and an uneasy roll of his stomach. “What do you mean?” His voice came out harsher than he meant it to.
She flinched back into the pillows, and he cursed his sharp tongue.
She dropped her eyes and worried at the sheet with her fingers. “I lied about my family name. It’s not Bromwich, it’s Grenfell. My father is Viscount Efford.”
“I see.” He breathed out slowly. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because the Duke of Troubridge will likely recognize me. He—he courted me briefly last year. I’m an heiress, you see.” Her tone became wretched. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
“Yes, you should!” He sat up, pushing a hand through his hair.
“Does it make our marriage invalid? Because my name isn’t correct?”
“Very possibly. I don’t know.” He stared at the canopy above his head. “Damn and blast, I should have made you tell me who your parents are. I thought—.” He stopped, his throat working. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, I should have—bloody hell, Emily! Is that even your name?”
“Yes, yes. Emily and Frances are my given names. I only lied about my family name. I was afraid you would force me to go back to them if you knew who they were.”
“Was it true about them starving you, or did you make that up too?”
“No, it’s true. I swear!” She sat up and swiveled toward him. “I’m so sorry. There—there’s one other thing—”
“What?” he asked ominously, his heart thudding hard in his chest.
She dropped her head. “I lied about my age, too. I thought you would think I was too young for the position, that I wouldn’t have enough experience. And then when you proposed marrying me, I—I was afraid—”
“How old are you?” he asked, looming over her.
“Twenty,” she said faintly, flinching.
“You’re not of age.” His voice was flat. He sank back against the pillows. Somewhere he was conscious of a smoldering rage, but the uppermost emotion was disappointment. A deep, heartrending disappointment.
She nodded. “I was afraid you’d pack me off back to my parents if you knew, or if they found out and came after me, they’d drag me back home.
” She stopped, her voice cracking. “I don’t want to go home.
I’ve been so happy with you. Please don’t send me home!
” She flung herself on his chest, openly weeping.
Stunned, Deo froze. He didn’t know what to do with a weeping female. Especially one half dressed and draped across his naked chest.
“Please, Deo, don’t send me home!” she begged, her little hands clutching at him. The gentle swell of her small breasts was pressed against his chest, her scent of roses and something else filled his nostrils, and her body was warm and shaking against him.
Kes, woken by the disturbance, came and rested a comforting jaw on her leg, and Deo found himself patting her soothingly and saying, “Don’t cry, I won’t send you home.” He swallowed; his throat was tight. “Damn it, Emily,” he said softly, “don’t cry. I can’t stand it!”
Her sobs tumbled down into a hiccoughing mess, her hot tears dripping down his bare skin.
He put his arms around her and discovered anew just how small she was.
The rage and the disappointment were still there somewhere, but right now they were buried under a layer of need to get her to stop crying. Her sobs were tearing him to pieces.
“Hush!” he said a bit more loudly. “Stop it, Em, please!”
This seemed to reach her, and she made an effort to stifle the sobs.
“I’m s-sorry!” she said woefully.
He pulled her away a bit with his hands on her arms, so that he could see her face. It was blotched and her eyes were red and swimming in tears. He knew he was frowning fiercely. “I won’t send you home, Em, but this is serious. I’ve married you without your father’s permission.”
She nodded, a hand to her mouth to stifle the sob. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry. It doesn’t help!” he said irritably. “What a damned coil!”
She swallowed and wiped her face on the sheet and sniffed.
He got up and fetched her a handkerchief and climbed back into bed. She sat up and blew her nose. Wiping her face, she said thickly, “What will you do?”
“Seek the advice of my solicitor. I need to understand the legal ramifications. Damn and blast!” He stared angrily at the bed post. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
“No, no, I swear. Everything else was true. I should have told you; it was stupid not to.”
“Yes, it was,” he said harshly.
She nodded dolefully and wiped fresh tears off her cheeks.
“Bloody hell, Em!” he said helplessly and pulled her into his embrace. “I’m no good at this!” he said, his voice anguished.
She buried her face in his chest, wetness on his skin. “I’m so—”
“Don’t!” he admonished and kissed her hair. Fuck! I don’t do kisses, I don’t do hugs, and I cannot cope with her crying.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and the anger leeched away, leaving him feeling drained and slightly heartsick.
“We’ll sort it out when we get to The Castle. I’ll write to my solicitor and find out where we stand. Once I know that, I’ll write to your parents. We may need to be married again; I don’t know.”
“You’ll still marry me?” she asked, raising her head.
“My reasons for marrying you haven’t changed,” he said roughly, flushing. “You make me comfortable—when you’re not crying all over me.”
She smiled tentatively, and she leaned forward and kissed his chin. “You make me so happy,” she said softly.
His whole body flushed with pleasure, and his traitorous cock stiffened in his breeches. Good thing I left them on.
“We need to sleep,” he said abruptly, pushing her away.
She nodded, dropping her head and moving away to her side of the bed.
He heaved a sigh of relief to have the temptation of her body separated from his treacherous cock.
Yet his body now felt cold without her warmth.
He pushed the thought away and suppressed the ache in his chest. He had a contract to uphold.
And in any case, she might not be legally married to him, in which case there was even more reason to keep his distance.