Page 56 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
“Indeed,” she replied breezily. “Mortal enemies forever.”
Even as she said it, she realized it had not been true in a while. Not only did she quite like Eric now, but she was also halfway to falling in love with him. The thought perturbed her so much that she had to stand up and walk around the cottage.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She flicked a glance his way where he still stood by the fire. “May I have some more of your brandy?”
Silently, he handed her the bottle, his eyes dark with concern. Thankfully, he did not keep staring but occupied himself with rolling the tobacco. He bent down, lighting it up with the fire before throwing it on another log.
He took a long drag, the muscles of his neck working, the firelight throwing them into sharp relief. She could not stop looking. His wet shirt still clung to him as did his breeches.
“You know,youshould try to dry your clothes or else you might catch your death.”
He smirked at her, blowing smoke into the air. “Are you trying to get me naked?”
Her face heated, and she turned away. “Of course not. I am trying —”
“Hush, no need to explain. You are right. I should dry my clothes. Perhaps we can both sit facing the fire, so we get as much heat as we can. I will do it if you do.”
She paused in her pacing to give him a look. His face held nothing but sincerity. With a sigh, she walked up to him, and they arranged two logs together before sitting down. For a time, there was silence in the room aside from the sound of logs crackling, the horse nickering and snorting, and of course, the rain falling. It was peaceful, and Freya almost fell asleep sitting up. She swayed a bit in Eric’s direction, and he put his hands out to steady her. “You may rest on my shoulder if you wish,” he suggested.
Freya wanted to refuse, but she was so very tired. Slipping his coat off her shoulders, she laid it down on the floor. “Or we can both lay down and rest,” she countered.
He gave her a long look before stubbing out his cheroot. “Very well.”
He got up, added some more logs to the fire, and then lay down on his side, his back to the logs they’d been sitting on, and his head cradled in his hand. He patted the space he’d left between himself and the fire. With a sigh, she lay down, cradling her own head with her hands. There was hardly any space between them; she could feel his warmth all the way down her back. “Are you warm enough?” she asked, worried that she was preventing him from feeling the full warmth of the flames.
“I’m fine,” he said quietly.
She lay still, staring into the fire, trying not to think too hard about what she’d realized since it did nothing but plunge her into a sea of confusion.
What does it mean? What am I to do about it? Does this mean my father wins? Does he get his heir? How does Eric feel about me?
She only had a pile of questions and no way to find answers.
“Are you all right?”
The sound of his voice startled her, and she jerked. “Uh, y-yes.”
“I can hear you thinking.”
She turned slowly to stare at him, bug-eyed with fear that somehow he could read her mind. “What do you mean by that?”
“Only that there is something clearly bothering you.”
She sighed with relief. “Oh…well, yes. I was just thinking about…our future.”
“You mean how to prevent your father from leaving you homeless and penniless should he die before you are with child?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
He sighed. “Well, thereisthe obvious solution.”
“Which is not guaranteed to work.” Freya did not even know why she was protesting. She quite agreed with him.
“Yes, that’s true.”
She turned around so that they were facing each other and took the chance to really look at him. “But we can’t dismiss it without trying, I suppose.”
