Page 45 of Married to a Scandalous Spinster
For long, breathless moments, they clung to each other, their bodies slick and heated, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Finally, Wyatt shifted slightly beneath her, and Gemma extricated herself from his firm embrace. She slipped back beneath the sheets.
Wyatt climbed off the mattress and reached for his breeches.
He is leaving again.
The knowledge made her ache. Gemma opened her mouth to ask him to stay, but found herself unable to form the words. That was not what this was. Both of them knew well that these visits to her bed, as enjoyable as they were, were about nothing more than business.
This was not about spending the nights lying in each other's arms or repeating the act long into the morning. Never mind that Gemma's body was already tingling, aching for more. Despite the heat emanating from her skin, she pulled the blankets up to her chin, suddenly feeling exposed.
Wyatt slipped his shirt on over his broad shoulders and fastened the button at his throat. Then he leaned over the bed and pressed a long kiss into Gemma's lips.
A sudden rush of emotion overcame her. “Will you—”…stay. Hold me while I fall asleep.
Wyatt raised his eyebrows in question. “Will I, what?” He stood over the bed, his lips inches from hers.
No. She could not do it. She could not let him know she felt this way. How could she admit to such things, when he had already made plans to dispatch her to Devon the moment she had served her purpose?
“Will you make sure you have collected all your clothing from the floor?” she said, sharper than she intended. “I do not want Ivy to know you were in here.”
A faint frown fell over Wyatt's face. “Of course,” he said tautly. “As you wish.” He stood up, without a kiss, and snatched his waistcoat from the floor. He bundled it into his hand and strode toward the door, without looking back. “Goodnight, Gemma.”
Gemma was not sure she had ever been so glad to see her sister. As Veronica climbed into the coach waiting outside Volk House, Gemma pulled her arms around her and held her tightly. “I have missed you so much.”
Veronica smiled, clearly surprised at her sister's uncharacteristic show of affection, then settled into the seat beside her. “I have missed you too,” she told Gemma, lacing her fingers through her older sister's. She laughed lightly. “But it has only been a fortnight. You are acting as though we've not seen each other in years!”
A fortnight? Is that truly all it has been?
Gemma's two weeks as the Duchess of Larsen seemed to have gone on forever. Hardly surprising, she reasoned, given how much she had dealt with. And how much her life had changed.
“It feels as though it has been years,” she admitted.
Veronica squeezed her hand. “How are you? Is married life truly as terrible as you feared?”
Gemma let out a breath and turned to glanced out the window as the coach rolled back through the gates of her childhood home. She looked away hurriedly, not wanting to examine the missing roof tiles and overgrown garden too closely. The sorry state of Volk House was a reminder of all the issues Gemma had left her sisters to face without her. “Gemma?” Veronica prodded.
Gemma shook her head to try and clear her mind of her guilt. She forced herself to focus on her sister.
Veronica's was the most complicated of questions. Gemma had to admit, married life was not as terrible as she had feared. Not even close. She had discovered, rather begrudgingly, that there was more to her husband than the caddish rake she had known him as, and despite the Duchess's best attempts, Larsen Manor had even begun to feel a little like home. And that, she knew well, was in no small part due to the passion she had succumbed to. When she and Wyatt were in bed together, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away, and she wanted the feeling to last forever. But the moment they finished, Gemma's mind flooded with his plans to send her away, and she felt the protective walls she had built around herself fly back into place. She knew she was in danger of growing feelings for her husband. And that could never be, especially now she knew what he intended for her once she had delivered him a son.
“I am managing,” she told Veronica, not wanting to go into details—largely because she had no idea of how to express the chaos of emotions roiling her heart.
Veronica nodded. “And His Grace? Is he good to you?”
Gemma was unable to hold back a wistful sigh. “Yes,” she admitted. “He is very good to me. He is very kind. Thoughtful.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Veronica's bright smile made her blue eyes shine. “And I hear he has also been kind enough to fund a brand new wardrobe for you.” She giggled. “Which I must say is long overdue.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “You sound like my mother-in-law.” Reluctant as she was to admit it, she was looking forward to spending the day shopping with her sister on Bond Street. The Dowager Duchess had recommended a seamstress for Gemma to visit; an older woman Her Grace had been going to for years. The perfect person, Wyatt's grandmother had promised, to make Gemma a wardrobe befitting a duchess.“But only if you wish it, of course, my dear,”the Dowager Duchess had said hurriedly, always one to make sure Gemma felt comfortable and welcome in her new life.
Gemma had agreed to visit the seamstress, telling herself that a new wardrobe would at least give her mother-in-law one less thing to criticize her over. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that was not the only reason she was doing this. In spite of herself, Gemma had found herself imagining how Wyatt might react when he saw her in her new gowns. Treacherous thoughts, of course. Thoughts that would get her hurt. Nonetheless, they were thoughts that were getting harder and harder to tamp down with every night her husband visited her bed.
“I sound like your mother-in-law?!” Veronica whacked her playfully on the arm. “I am going to ignore thatdreadfullyinsulting comment on account of how happy I am to see you.” She looped her arm through Gemma's and turned to look out the window. An enormous four-horse coach rattled by, and Veronica pressed her head against the glass, trying to catch a glimpse of who was inside. “I am also under strict instruction fromGrandmother to intervene if it looks like you are even thinking about ordering anything brown.”
Gemma laughed. “I am sure.”
In the bright summer afternoon, Bond Street was awash with people. Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen strode between shop fronts and tea houses, and coaches jostled each other for space on the road. The air was filled with chatter and the constant rattle of hooves, punctuated by the calls of the newspaper boy on the corner.
The moment she stepped out of the carriage, Gemma felt nerves tighten her stomach. This was the first time she had dared set foot out of Larsen Manor since the wedding. The first time she had dared show her face in public since becoming the scandalous Duchess of Larsen. She found herself scanning the street, searching fearfully for faces she knew.
