Page 17 of Miss Barton's Mysterious Husband
Because instead of ripping her clothes off and uniting his body with hers, Roland had been kind and contained and considerate. He’d brought her hot water. He’d stepped outside while she washed and changed into her sensible white flannel nightdress. He’d hardly looked at her when he came back in to wish her good night and stretch out on the rag rug in front of the fire.
Charmian shifted again. She’d been doing a lot of that. She couldn’t seem to find a comfortable spot. Mad to say that the bed seemed too big, when it was small even for one person. But that was how it felt.
Roland hadn’t moved since lying down. He’d looked exhausted when he arrived at the inn. Then Janet had put him to work running up and down stairs and fetching and carrying. Charmian should be all wifely and be glad that he got some rest.
Shewasfeeling wifely, but not about letting her husband sleep off his weariness. He’d said that he wanted her back. He’d said that he loved her. For pity’s sake, he’d kissed her into next Wednesday.
Howdarehe leave her lonely, while he slumbered in front of the fire?
She shifted again and told herself that she had no right to be annoyed. Instead, she should be grateful and hopeful and happy. She and Roland had a chance to make up for the past’s mistakes. She’d prayed for that to happen since she’d left him.
And it was Christmas Day. Surely that alone was cause for joy. A time for fresh starts and new plans.
As she lay yearning and stirred up and confused, Charmian didn’t feel joyful. She felt frustrated.
Sexual frustration was a familiar companion. But it verged on unbearable when the object of her interest was mere feet away, rather than kicking up his heels in the fleshpots.
She sighed and turned onto her side to face the wall. Perhaps if she couldn’t see him, she could pretend that her long-lost spouse wasn’t within reach. She tucked one hand under her cheek and blinked away stinging moisture. For pity’s sake, she’d already cried enough tears to fill an ocean. There shouldn’t be a drop of saltwater left inside her.
“Are you all right, Charmian?”
“Did I wake you?” She didn’t want to lie to him, but nor did she want to answer.
“I haven’t been asleep.”
He’d been so quiet, that surprised her. “I haven’t either. You don’t have to stay on the floor. There’s the chair, or if we squeeze in, we could share the bed.”
She thought that she heard a faint groan. Or perhaps a log shifted in the fireplace. “It’s a very narrow bed.”
She continued to stare at the wall. The view was misty. “Big enough for one.”
“I’m better where I am,” he said with a hint of grimness that she didn’t understand. “Are you crying?”
“No.” The choked denial proved her falsehood.
“I thought I heard you.”
“I just caught my breath.”
He wasn’t persuaded. She didn’t blame him. “I apologise for upsetting you.”
“It’s been…an overwhelming day.”Now you don’t want me, and I don’t know why.
“Yes, it has. I’m not sorry, though.”
“That you made me cry?”
He exhaled audibly. “No, of course not. I’m not sorry that we met and we’ve had the chance to talk.”
Talk. Yes, they’d done that. And needed to do more. But talk wasn’t what she wanted. At this moment, she wanted his arms around her. She wanted his spicy masculine scent in her nostrils and his warmth to banish the chill inside her. She wanted the hard thrust of his body and that moment of perfect intimacy when he filled the aching emptiness at her core.
Then she wanted the inexorable climb to ecstasy, the blast of sensual lightning at the peak, and the gentle drift back to earth afterward.
She wanted him to treat her the way that a man treated a woman he wanted.
It had been three long years since Roland had used her body. But she’d forgotten nothing. She was in a fever for him. Why on earth was he so far away?
“Charmian?” he asked when she didn’t reply. “Aren’t you glad we’ve reconciled?”
