by Rose Gordon
“Yes?” she whispered, not opening her eyes.
He clamped his mouth shut so he wouldn’t curse out loud. What kind of monster was he? He’d been treating his wife as if she were a common whore, completely oblivious to her pain and discomfort. He pulled out. “We’re done,” he said raggedly.
Her teeth released the brutal hold they’d had on her bottom lip before her tongue soothed it. “Oh,” she said, opening her eyes and turning her face toward him.
He rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his face.
“Thank you, Alex.” She rested her head on his chest.
He ground his teeth. “For what?”
“For everything. For being gentle with me. For giving me pleasure. For just being you.”
Rage and shame washed over him. He’d not been gentle. He’d ruined everything by being a brute and treating her no better than a prostitute. He couldn’t lie next to her while she continued to praise him. He needed to get up and leave. He buttoned the fall of his pants. Hell’s afire. He was still wearing his pants. And his shirt. And his stockings. And she was still wearing her nightrail. In his big hurry, he hadn’t even allowed time for them to get undressed.
He rolled her off his chest and onto her back before standing up.
“Are you leaving?” She blinked up at him.
His heart clenched and a lump formed in his throat. “I’ll be back,” he said uncomfortably, unable to look at her a moment longer.
“You’re not going to get chess, are you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Excellent idea. He had a set in his room, but he could go down to the library and grab the bigger set. It would take him at least twenty minutes. Thirty if he walked at a snail’s pace. That should be enough time to clear his thoughts and allow her time to fall asleep. “Yes. I promised we’d play tonight.”
She smiled. “Forget chess. Come back to bed. We’ll play tomorrow.”
“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, ignoring her. Before she could object again, he opened the door, stepped into the hall, closed the door, and nearly gave in to the urge to beat his head on it. How could he have been so thoughtless as to treat her that way? He raked his fingers through his hair and went down to the library.
He deliberately took longer than necessary to get the chess set and breathed a sigh of relief when he reentered the room they shared, only to find all the candles still burning and Caroline fast asleep.
He set the chess set down and blew out the candles. Then he shrugged off his clothes and slipped into bed next to her.
A small sliver of moonlight peeked in from the break in the curtains. It allowed just enough light for Alex to see his relaxed and sleeping bride. His heart ached as he looked down at her. She was beautiful, fragile, and all his. Kissing her forehead for a final time that night, he silently vowed he’d treat her better in the future. If she didn’t enjoy a certain aspect of marriage, he’d never force her—his brother could inherit.
Alex closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillow. What felt like only a moment later, a spell of intense fidgeting accompanied by a strangled cry of alarm rent the air. Startled, he snapped his eyes open and his body tensed.
He blinked a couple times to make sure it wasn’t his dream that woke him, but a look at his wife told him otherwise. “Caro?”
She was sitting straight up in the bed, hand on her heart, breathing heavily. She didn’t look in his direction, just stared straight ahead, unable to make a coherent noise with her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him.
Her body tensed and she pushed at his chest.
His hands held her tighter. “Shhh, Caro, it’s me, Alex. You’re all right.”
The tension slowly left her body and she rested her head against his chest, her breathing still ragged.
“Shhh,” he crooned, running his hands soothingly up and down her arms and back. “It’s just a bad dream. People have them all the time. I’m here to hold you. You’re perfectly safe with me.”
Tears wet his chest and he gently rocked her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “The candles,” she croaked.
He looked around the room. Not a single candle was lit. He didn’t think it unusual they were sleeping without any light in the room. Most did. “You like to sleep with them lit?” he ventured, remembering both times he’d entered the room tonight she’d had more candles than would fit in the king’s grand chandelier lit.
“I know it’s silly,” she said with a sniffle. “I just don’t like the dark.”
“Do you require all of them lit?”
She sniffled again. “At least a few.”
“All right.” How he would be able to sleep in a lighted room was a mystery to him, but if Caroline wanted it, it was hers. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, leaning her back against the pillows.
He slipped out of bed and put on his spectacles so he could at least see what he was about to light. A minute later, he found a couple lanterns he’d had since he was a boy. At least this way the flame would be contained behind the glass. With so many papers and plants lying about in this room, it was by far better to have the flames contained, he reasoned.
He lit the lanterns, stoked the fire and replaced the screen, removed his spectacles again, then slipped back into bed. “Better?” he asked, pulling her to him.
“Yes. Thank you.” Her face was still damp but at least the tears had stopped.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“No,” she said, bringing her hand up to rest against his heart. “Just hold me. Please.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Always.”
“Thank you, Alex.”
“That’s what husbands are for.”
Chapter 19
Caroline woke up in Alex’s arms the next morning. She looked up at his face and ran her fingers over the stubble that had covered his handsome face in the night before letting her finger trace the blade of a nose and his eyebrows. When he’d joined her in bed last night, that was the first time she’d seen him without his spectacles, however, she hadn’t really been too concerned with that at the time. She’d been too busy enjoying the way he touched her.
“Good morning, Caro,” he said, opening one brown eye.
She blushed. She’d just been caught staring at him. Good thing she wasn’t looking down there when he’d woken up. That would have been mortifying. Mortifying, but at least she’d have an answer to her curiosity. She’d been slightly disappointed the opportunity to see him naked hadn’t presented itself last night. Well, it had eventually. But only because he was climbing out of bed to light a lantern for his ninny of a wife. She sighed. Would she ever feel safe sleeping without the candles?
“Do you have any plans for today?” he asked, trailing his fingers along the top edge of her nightrail.
She shrugged. “My clothes and things are to be delivered today.”
“Good. Are you hungry? We can ring for breakfast to be brought or go downstairs. I’m sure it’s been lain out already.”
As much as she’d love to lie in bed with Alex all day, she couldn’t. Too many other people lived in the house, and they’d all be speculating on what they were doing if they didn’t make an appearance. She blushed again. “Downstairs. Let’s eat downstairs.”
“Downstairs it is.”
She sat up, freeing Alex to get out of bed. In a quick, fluid motion, he did. Too quick, too fluid for her taste. He’d been so fast to stand, all she’d glimpsed were his tight buttocks.
Keeping his back to her, he pulled on his dressing robe before selecting a pair of trousers and a shirt. “I’ll send for Annie to help you dress.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead then picked up the rest of his clothes. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Alex was already in the breakfast room by the time Annie showed her to it. His hair and clothes were in perfect order, a complete contrast to the way they�
��d be in less than an hour. He stood up when she entered the room, then escorted her to the sidebar to help her fill her plate, and carried it to the table.
It was just the two of them for breakfast, and for the life of her she couldn’t think of a single thing to say the gentleman with whom she’d shared the greatest intimacy not ten hours earlier. But it didn’t matter. There was no awkward silence that filled the room; instead, it was comfortable, companionable. When she’d accepted his offer of marriage, she knew he didn’t love her. She might feel that way for him, but he didn’t for her and she knew that. She’d never asked for nor expected love. He’d treat her right. That was all that mattered.
She caught his eye and smiled at him. “Awfully silent today.” She lowered her cup of hot chocolate to the table.
“You didn’t marry a man of many words, I’m afraid,” he said, returning her smile.
She let her eyes go wide and dropped her mouth open. “But you always seemed so chatty before.”
A self-depreciating smile bent his lips. “About that...I...uh...I’m really not a good conversationalist.”
“Unless the conversation is about science,” she interrupted, smiling.
He nodded. “Unless the conversation is about science.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “What I meant to say is that I can keep a conversation for a while, but if you’re expecting me to chat your ear off, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“That’s all right. I’ve not had a lot of companionship in the past. I shan’t require so much attention.”
He looked relieved. “Just to clarify,” he said a moment later. “I’m not a good conversationalist, but that doesn’t mean I intend to ignore you.”
“I know that. And if I do require conversation, your chatty cousin Brooke lives close by,” she retorted, making him smile.
“Pardon me, Mr. Banks, Mrs. Banks,” Johnson, the butler, intoned from the doorway. “I was asked to determine if Mrs. Banks would be available to meet with Lord Watson following breakfast.”
Panic welled up inside Caroline. Why did the baron want to see her?
“We’ll be up shortly. If it’s agreeable with Mrs. Banks, that is.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Banks, but Lord Watson has requested Mrs. Banks attend him alone.”
“Alone?” she squeaked. She never knew what to expect when she was around the baron, but at least with Alex there, he could shield her if the baron started to make her uncomfortable.
“He says he would like to speak to you alone for a few minutes, madam,” the butler replied.
She swallowed uncomfortably. “A—all right.”
The meal ended soon after, and Alex walked her through the maze of hallways leading to his father’s room. He kissed her lips, whispered a few soothing words of comfort in her ear, then opened the door for her.
She glanced at Alex one last time before going to stand before his father’s bed.
“You wanted to see me?”
Edward coughed and rolled over to face her. He looked worse this morning than he had last night at dinner. “Yes, gel. Sit down a minute.”
She sat in the empty chair and waited for him to speak again.
“I see by the flush in your cheeks, my gift last night was useful,” he teased.
“Indeed,” she agreed primly. “I slept at Alex’s feet just as Ruth slept at Boaz’s.”
His nose wrinkled up. “Perhaps I won’t be holding a grandchild in nine months, after all,” he remarked dryly.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” A telling blush warmed her cheeks.
He grinned. “Now that we have that settled, let’s discuss what I called you away from my randy son for. First, you should know I never make sincere apologies, so if I’ve said or done anything to offend you, I’m not sorry and you’ll not be hearing a word of a true apology from me.” He frowned and fluffed his pillow before shoving it back under his head.
She smiled. In his own way the baron had just apologized for anything she may have found offensive about him. The other day when Alex had pressed him to apologize, it had been insincere, but this one was real. Of this, she was certain.
“The second thing I wanted to talk to you about—” he punched his pillow two times— “I’d get around to if this blasted pillow would do its job and support my dying head.” He sat up, flung that pillow to the end of the bed, then grabbed another. “Much better,” he muttered, squeezing the feather pillow to keep the part under his head firm. “The second thing I wanted to say is about Alex. You should know he cares for you far more than you may realize.”
“Yes?” she prompted when he stopped talking, her heart soaring. She wanted to hear more. To know just how much Alex cared for her.
“That’s all. My son cares for you and he does a two-bit job of showing it.”
“No, he doesn’t,” she said, jumping to her husband’s defense.
His blue eyes traveled her face. “Think what you wish,” he said at last. “What I’m trying to tell you is I want you to know he does care a great deal for you, no matter what he says or does to the contrary.”
Caroline stared blankly at him. Why he was insulting his son in such a way? Furthermore, why did he think he needed to be the one to tell her Alex’s feelings? She sighed. Perhaps it was a medication he was taking, or maybe he was becoming delusional so close to death. Yes, that must be it. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” She used a handkerchief to dab the sweat from his forehead.
“Thank you, gel,” he said softly, closing his eyes. “I’m glad Alex married you.”
She smiled. She was, too.
A low, ragged chuckle sounded in chest. “I knew the moment I saw you, you’d make a good match for Alex. That’s why I pressed Joseph to have that contract amended.” He snorted. “You might have only been seven at the time, but the way you clung to that telescope and insisted it went or you stayed, I knew instantly you and my son were kindred spirits.”
She froze, her skin turning stone-cold. The only gentlemen who had ever seen her with a telescope at that age had been her father, her uncle, and some stranger who had come to her house to carry her away in the dead of night. The latter, she only remembered by the conversation they had as he came into her room and told her to grab whatever it was she valued above all else, because she was leaving and not coming back. Immediately, she’d gone to what she’d believed to be her mother’s telescope (she later found out it wasn’t because her uncle had already taken the real one to his house following her mother’s death so her father couldn’t sell it). The big man half covered in shadows shook his head and told her to pick something else, something smaller. She’d refused. She’d put her hands on her hips and informed him the telescope went or she stayed. The strong man then scooped her up in one arm, and the telescope, stand and all, in the other and carried her out the back of the house.
“That was you?” she whispered at last, tears pricking the back of her eyes.
His eyes fluttered open and his brows snapped together as if he was confused, perturbed even. “Yes, gel. I came with your uncle that night. I thought you knew that.”
She shook her head. “No. Uncle Joseph never so much as breathed one word about that night again, and neither did I.”
“Probably for the best.” Edward reached out to take her hand. “I admit I was the one who came that night. Joseph asked me to help him. Do you know why?”
She swallowed. “Because my father was an addict,” she said weakly, not able to meet his eyes.
His hand squeezed hers. “That’s a large part of it. But there is something else. Do you remember anything else? Anything happening around that time?”
She shook her head. She’d been only seven, barely seven at that. All she remembered from the time she’d either chosen to forget about, had recurring nightmares about, or only remembered snatches of—usually with an incorrect timeline.
“That’s probably for the best, too,” he said, squeezing her hand again. “Try to forget it, dear gi
rl.”
“I’ll try,” she muttered, sitting back down and closing her eyes tight.
“Alex doesn’t know,” Edward said suddenly.
Her eyes snapped open. “Pardon?” She cleared her throat and forced a smile to cover up her rude outburst.
Edward waved her off. “Unlike my son, I suffer no difficulty deciphering facial expressions. Yours clearly indicates you’re worried about what he does or doesn’t know. Am I right?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “He seemed to know exactly how awful Rupert Griffin was the other day.”
“That he does. But Alex doesn’t know Griffin is your father or the details of your past before you went to stay with your uncle. He only knows what you’ve told him. I promised your uncle I’d take it to my grave. Regina knows only because she was able deduce where I went that night—the clues were very obvious, all things considered. But I never told Alex. And I meant what I said the other day. Your secrets will go to my grave.” He flashed a rueful smile at her. “Whenever that might be.”
She smiled weakly at his jest. “I thank you for all you’ve done,” she said, wiping away a tear that had slipped from her eye.
“You’re more than welcome, my girl,” he murmured, patting her hand. “Now, go see that rapscallion I call a son and let an old man rest.”
She got up to kiss his cheek before she left, then turned to the door when his voice called her to halt. “I didn’t know your mother well. She was a bit too young to be my playmate. But Regina knew her. They were roommates at a school for young ladies. Perhaps you should speak to her.” He coughed a couple times, and when he spoke again his voice was low and scratchy. “Though we all love our mothers unconditionally, and often choose to ignore the unsavory information we learn about them, you might be forgiving her for a sin she didn’t commit.”
Caroline looked back at him to elaborate, but his eyes were shut and the blankets were high around his chin.
Numbly, she turned back around and left the room, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could on the way out.
