Chapter Three #3
It was a long while before her trembling stopped and she went limp against him and he knew she had fallen asleep.
Christ, how the scent of roses filled his nostrils.
He had never liked roses very much but there was something about the particular scent on his wife that made it different. He thought he could grow to like it.
He smiled into the darkness, laughing at himself.
The only time he had ever been in bed with a woman was to satisfy himself, and here he was laying with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, his legal wife no less, and he wasn’t making mad love to her.
What in the world was happening to him? Since when did he give a care about anyone other than himself?
He thought of Dustin, how she had been rude to him, how she had been openly hostile. She’d never said a kind word, nor had he even seen her smile. Yet here he was, comforting her. Christ, he was stupid. The sands of the Holy Land must have rotted his brain somehow.
“My lord?” It was Dustin.
“Aye?” he answered, mildly surprised that she was awake.
She took a ragged breath. “When you carried my mother up the stairs earlier, I did not thank you.”
“ ’Twas my duty, as your husband,” he replied.
She paused a moment. “I know. But I will thank you all the same.”
He grunted a reply, thinking she sounded quite lucid now and thinking on leaving. In fact, he thought it would be a very good idea considering the warm and yielding thoughts he was having about her. He didn’t want to let his guard down for a woman who would only batter him.
“You do not have to stay with me,” Dustin said softly, as if she was reading his thoughts. “I am much calmer now.”
He unwound his arms and she rolled onto her back, looking up at him with a completely open expression. He was propped up on one elbow, gazing down at her and thinking her face to be wonderful. So much for letting his guard down; he couldn’t help it.
“You are beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself.
Dustin blinked in surprise at the compliment. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I am too short.”
He scowled, showing emotion for the first time. “What does that have to do with your beauty?”
She looked stumped and tired. “I…I do not know. I am just too short, that’s all.”
He cocked a reproving eyebrow and pushed himself out of bed. “The usual response to a compliment is ‘thank you,’” he said.
She sat up wearily, watching his movements. “Were you with my father when he died?”
He paused, looking at her, before collecting his leather vest on the floor. He debated what to tell her but realized he couldn’t lie about it. “Aye, my lady.”
“How did he die?” she whispered.
He didn’t know if he should tell her anything. After all, she had enough grief without hearing about Arthur’s nauseating end.
“We will discuss that at a later time,” he said after a moment. “As it stands, you will go to sleep and I will see you on the morrow.”
She didn’t answer him but lay back down, her huge gray eyes still on him.
He watched her in return, his movements slowing a bit, not particularly liking the distant look in her eye.
He was hesitant, thinking that mayhap he should not leave.
Women in grief were known to do all sorts of strange things, and he did not want to be held responsible should his wife decide to hurt herself.
As he wrestled with indecision, something heavy rubbed up against his leg and he took a startled step back, looking down to see a huge orange cat blinking up at him with green cat-eyes. It was the biggest damn cat he had ever seen.
“What’s this?” he pointed at the feline.
Dustin tore her eyes from him long enough to follow the direction of his finger. “ ’Tis Caesar, my lord. My cat.”
The cat was purring loudly and moved over to him, rubbing on his leg once again. “I do not like cats,” he said finally.
A flicker of a smile crossed her face. “He likes you,” she said. “And he does not take to people easily. Caesar is my very best friend.” She clucked to the cat and the beast immediately jumped onto the bed, kneading the mattress to get comfortable.
He watched her pet the cat, a faint smile on her lips. He was becoming enchanted by her faint expression and was seized with the desire to see her smile even larger. He was very curious to see what sort of smile she could display. Was it charming? Twisted? Did she even have all of her teeth?
“That beast is as large as a lamb,” he remarked. “What do you feed it? Small children?”
As he had hoped, she smiled wide and he was absolutely captivated. As beautiful as she was, her whole face changed dramatically when she revealed her straight, white teeth and deep dimple in her left cheek.
“Nay, my lord, only chicken and innards,” she replied softly, scratching the cat’s ears. “ ’Tis all he will eat. But he is a fine hunter.”
“No doubt,” he cocked a dubious brow. “I will have to watch that he does not hunt me. I have a feeling that I would become supper.”
She gave a small laugh and he found himself smiling in return. But when her eyes moved to him once again, he quickly erased his smile. For some reason, he did not want her to see that she had affected him that way.
“I will leave you and Caesar, then.” He moved for the door, strangely feeling better that the cat had made an appearance, as if the animal could watch over her. “Sleep well, my lady.”
She watched him close the door, still scratching the cat. Her smile faded and in the darkness of the room, she had never felt more alone in her entire life.
Her husband was a cold man. Even in his kindness, he was a cold barbarian, for his kindness was forced and unreal.
When he had held her with those massive, warm arms, he was stiff and not at all comforting.
It was obvious he didn’t like her, although he had called her beautiful.
Strange, she thought. Mayhap he just meant her hair and not the whole of her.
Or mayhap he liked the color of her eyes.
Whatever the reason, he was not sincere.
Sadness swept over her and tears came to her eyes once again. Tears of grief for her mother, tears of pity for herself.
She was entirely alone.