Chapter Ten #2
He did not need to explain more. ‘Thank you,’ she said finally, though her voice lacked conviction. She didn’t trust herself to say more.
Instead, she walked to the sideboard and surveyed the colourful bottles. ‘May I have a drink?’
‘Madeira?’ he offered.
‘Whisky,’ she replied.
His only response to the strong drink was a slight twitch to his eyebrow. Without comment, he met her at the sideboard and poured a finger’s worth into a crystal tumbler and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed, briefly, and it startled her more than it should have.
She crossed to an armchair opposite him and sat with her legs folded beneath her. Ralston waited until she was settled before returning to his chair. She sipped her whisky, which burned down her throat then settled warm and low in her belly.
She was aware of him watching her, his dark eyes unreadable. What was going through his mind? Did he resent having a wife? Was she an inconvenience, a burden? As they sat together in the library on their wedding night, she had no idea what her husband was thinking.
Ralston watched Nora lift the crystal to sip her whisky. A single drop clung to her bottom lip before her tongue flicked out to capture it. He shifted in his leather armchair, forcing himself to remain still. Did his bride know how much he wanted her?
When she’d first entered the library, she’d stood before the marble hearth, framed by the flickering firelight, completely unaware that the sheer silk gown clung to her slender figure and revealed far too much to his hungry gaze.
He could see the outline of a long, shapely leg, the gentle curve of her hip, and, to his dismay and fascination, the shadowed peak of one breast.
Good God.
Did she have any idea how difficult it had been for him not to seek her out tonight?
It had taken every shred of discipline he possessed not to stride across the room, open the door that adjoined their bedchambers and join her.
Make love to his wife on their wedding night and give in to the fierce desire he’d felt for her ever since she’d slipped into his bed at the house party.
They were married now, in name and law. Still, he wasn’t a cad, and he’d decided to act honorably and give her time to adjust to a married life she hadn’t wanted.
But at this moment, his honor, felt like a cumbersome and inconvenient virtue.
It had been this way during the wedding vows and the breakfast afterwards. He’d snuck glances at his wife, had worked hard to keep the longing out of his eyes. Surely, all the guests would see. He was even having a difficult time thinking of his bill. Would she distract him like this forever?
He cleared his throat, more harshly than he intended. ‘Tomorrow is a new day. You must be curious about your new home and anxious to resume your work.’
She glanced at him over the rim of her glass. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘As am I,’ he said, trying to recover some formality. ‘The first reading of my bill is tomorrow. I’ll be gone most of the day. I apologize for the lack of a honeymoon. I didn’t expect to marry, let alone so swiftly.’
She gave a small nod. ‘I understand. Any travels together would be awkward.’ Her voice was calm, but she worried her bottom lip again, a nervous habit he had begun to notice. His eyes, against his better judgement, were drawn once more to her mouth.
‘If you are gone tomorrow, may I go shopping?’ she asked, her voice lighter.
‘You want to buy dresses?’
‘No,’ she said, setting her glass down carefully. ‘I’d like to purchase a microscope and other supplies.’
That was not the reply he’d expected. But then, Nora had never been predictable. ‘I have no objection.’
Her green eyes watched him. ‘A microscope is costly.’ Her voice held the quiet reserve of someone accustomed to being denied.
‘I expect it is.’ Was she worried about the expense? She had no reason to be. His was a wealthy man, and her scientific pursuits would barely dent his accounts.
‘Do I have an allowance?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he replied simply. ‘It is not necessary.’
One delicate eyebrow rose. ‘You do not fear I’ll drain your coffers? Run up ruinous debts in pursuit of lenses and specimen trays?’
He let out a gruff laugh. ‘No. I doubt you could empty my accounts if you bought a dozen microscopes. Or a dozen ballgowns for that matter.’
Her lips parted, and her eyes widened with something like wonder. Other than her father, had no one ever been generous or supportive of her before?
‘I told you it was part of our arrangement, and I intend to keep my word,’ he said. ‘You married me under unusual circumstances. I’d not renege on what I promised.’
‘I know…it’s just—’
‘Just what?’ he asked gently. He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about her. Did she truly not believe him? Or did she think he’d establish limitations?
‘Lord Umbridge would have never allowed it.’ Her voice dropped, and she looked away.
‘Who?’ he asked, before the name sparked recognition. ‘Ah. Yes. The Baron your mother tried to pair you with.’
She nodded, folding her hands in her lap. Her voice was low. ‘He’d often remind me he was quite frugal.’
For some reason, the reminder of the Baron did not sit well with him, and his jaw clenched at the thought of that pompous man anywhere near her, dictating terms.
‘There’s no need to speak of him now, is there?’ he said, more sharply than intended.
‘You’re right. There’s no need. Especially on our wedding night.’
She might be uncomfortable discussing money.
Meanwhile, he struggled because of a different matter—suppressing the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless until her worries were eased and she thought of nothing but him.
Would her nipples be rosy or a dusty pink?
Would the curls between her legs match her auburn hair?
The erotic images would invade his dreams.
His restraint, he told himself, was for both their benefit.
She never wanted to marry, and they both had work in mind.
She needed time before they embarked on their agreement to produce an heir.
As for himself, his past was not easily forgotten no matter how young he’d been.
Matters of the heart were not for him and he had no interest in love.
Why would he? Love was a foolish emotion and a distraction from what truly mattered.
He’d had his heart broken once and only once and would never let it happen again.
As his wife, he’d give Nora every respect. He’d uphold his promise to fund her science. But he’d never give her his heart.
Lust was a different matter.
Lust was not love. And he did desire her. Badly.
‘I was thinking about my role as Countess,’ she said, her voice steady again. ‘When will we be introduced to Society?’
He was grateful for the change of topic.
Speaking of mundane Society events would cool his heated thoughts.
‘We’ve received an invitation to Lady Leticia’s garden party.
’ He poured himself more whisky. ‘It’s less formal than a ball.
She’s eccentric, but very well-connected. It will be a good place to start.’
She bit her lip again. ‘A garden party? I’ve never attended one. My father was a tradesman, and we rarely received invitations.’
He studied her face. ‘We could always decline.’
She shook her head quickly. ‘No, you’re right, we should attend. We need a love story.’
He set his glass down on an end table. ‘A love story?’ The topic was not the distraction he desired. Didn’t she know how the silk clung to her curves and that she was only an arm’s length away. The garment was designed to tempt a man.
She met his gaze. ‘Yes. That’s what they’ll ask about. How we met. How we fell in love. They will all be curious, don’t you think?’
He paused. She was right. He could just imagine the ton’s rabid curiosity. ‘Tell them we met at the house party.’
She blinked. ‘That’s it?’
‘It’s the truth. Or at least, part of it. A convenient truth.’
She leaned forward, a gleam of excitement brightening her green eyes. ‘We can say we danced at the Duchess’s first ball, then took walks in the garden under the watchful eye of my mother as a proper chaperone, of course. Perhaps we discovered a shared interest in gardening.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Gardening?’
She grinned. ‘Yes, the Duchess’s rosebushes. It’s better than admitting I snuck into your room.’
A low chuckle escaped him. God help him, she was enticing.
She seemed satisfied, as if the tale had soothed whatever social anxieties she harboured.
‘It’s getting late,’ he said. ‘Please go to bed, Nora. Rest. I give you my word that I will not come to your chamber until you are ready.’
He stood and offered his hand. His chest tightened when she slipped her hand in his, completely trusting. Her fingers were slender and her skin smooth.
He walked her to the door like a proper gentleman. A husband. All the while aware of her lush body next to his.
When the door closed softly behind her, the scent of her lemongrass soap lingered in the air. He stood alone in the library once again, staring into the fire, acutely aware of the fact that only a single door separated their bedchambers.
And that he would not sleep a single damn hour tonight.