Page 56 of A Dark and Stormy Knight
She fell into a contemplative silence, her entire being focused on the task of her hair.
Morley watched her alertly, examining her for signs of… well, of anything out of the ordinary. Not that he exactly knew what to look for. Bleeding, he supposed. Another loss of consciousness. Confusion. Pain.
Charming little mannerisms became apparent under such close scrutiny. She’d one very expressive left eyebrow, while the right one never so much as arched. Her left hand was the dominant one, as well. She’d a freckle beneath her right eye. Just the one. And a little scar behind her jaw on the right side. She slept in a great deal of ruffles.
And when she brushed her hair, she laced her fingers through the section to test for snarls in very rhythmic, graceful gestures.
The inky swath draped over the shoulder of her white nightgown, waving in places and framing her face with little tendrils that beckoned to be touched.
Lord she was lovely.
And she was his.
He’d never seen her like this. Even pale and fresh-scrubbed, damp and unadorned, she remained a beacon of beauty. The kind of siren that would dash a man like him on the rocks.
And still, he’d go willingly.
A strange, unidentifiable emotion stole over him. Not peace, exactly, never that, but a loose-limbed mesmerism he would akin to that of a cobra being charmed by a clever instrument. He couldn’t look away. Nothing else existed. Just the woman in his bed and the gentle motions of her grooming. The air was warm and moist from her bath, and he breathed in the summer scent of her soap as his heart slowed and his lids grew heavy.
They sat in silence for a moment, or maybe an eternity, him content to do little else but drink in the sight of her.
“Do you still love her?”
The question manifested in the air between them, surely, as he’d barely noticed her lips move.
Morley started a little, sitting up straighter, uncertain if he heard her correctly as his mind had been quite pleasantly—extraordinarily—empty. “Pardon?”
She kept her gaze firmly focused on the gathering sheen of her smooth, glossy, untangled hair. And yet she kept brushing. “The Countess, Farah, do you love her still?”
“No.” The promptness of his answer surprised even him.
She flicked him a fleeting glance. “You can tell me without fear of reprisal,” she urged. “I’m in no position to cast aspersions, and I can’t imagine you lived like a monk before we—before our nuptials.”
The irony was he’d done exactly that for some time now. He’d a few wild years during and after the war but…if one was to describe his romantic exploits of late.
Monk was apropos.
Until her.
“I hold Farah in high esteem,” he answered. “But that is all.”
“She returns your esteem.” An inscrutable emotion darkened her features for a moment, and she abandoned her brush to the nightstand with a sigh.
“I don’t know if I ever loved her.” Morley couldn’t tell what compelled him to explain, but the words escaped him in a torrent of truth. “I was of the opinion that she and I suited, is all. We worked easily together, and we enjoyed each other’s company. We attended events and she liked to eat at the same establishments I do. I thought…” He’d thought she’d fill this empty house with something other than silence. He’d wanted someone to come home to. To share a life and all the beautiful, terrible things therein. “I thought love might grow between us. She’s a good woman. Someone I’d grown to trust, respect, and admire.”
The wobble of her chin belied her hard-won stoicism and she nodded slowly as if she did her best to digest his words.
“Unlike me.”
I never wanted her like I want you.
He almost said it. The words tripped to the edge of his lips like a reckless man about to jump to his death. Farah was never a danger to him, but neither had she been a joy. He’d desired her, as she was lovely, and he was a man. But she’d never tempted him anywhere close to the line he’d leapt over for Prudence. He’d never ached in her absence nor did he fear the power she had over him.
For there was none.
Whereas now…
“Was your meeting with Blackwell about me?” she queried, her gaze pinched and worried as it finally met his.
