Page 146 of The Lord Meets His Lady
Firelight lit his bed, a haven from the world. What a fool she was for keeping herself from him! From the first night they rode away from Coldstream, his arms around her, he’d promised to take care of her. She should’ve claimed her wifely rights every night instead of running downstairs full of stubborn independence.
If she couldn’t have till death do us part, she’d take what she could.
“Wives of quality avoid the races…an unworthy spectacle for tender sensibilities,” he said, laying it on thick.
“Don’t. Not tonight.”
“Don’t what?”
“Use humor to get what you want. Not tonight.”
He balked like a man caught naked.
“Nor do I need anyone looking after my so-called tender sensibilities. I’ve never had them.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “I will go to the race, Marcus. I need to be there.”
Someone could’ve tied a millstone around her heart, so heavy and dull was the sinking sensation inside her. Fanciful dreams with him in this quaint cottage were coming to an end.
His bedchamber had darkened from the sun setting and a lack of candles. She’d missed the hour for lighting the sconces. Embers glowed like orange stones in his fireplace. A chill set in. The fire needed stoking. Belowstairs, scents of ham and linseed oil from the mural wafted into his room. Pallinsburn had become a hideaway in her tumbled life, its master her rustic rescuer.
Nodding slowly, Marcus gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “So be it.”
“You’ve got to be careful, or the chilblains will return.” She dipped two fingers in the salve and smeared it over rough skin. “You need to wear your gloves.”
“First, no quips. Now you require me to wear gloves.” His charming smile spread. “I cringe to think what you’ll demand next, Lady Bowles.”
Smiling, she slid off the bed and set the jar on the washstand. “I wondered how long you’d manage without witticisms. You might’ve lasted a minute.”
“I’m painfully undisciplined,” he jested. “Clearly I need a sergeant in russet skirts to keep me in line.”
His beautiful smile lit up the room, warming all the places aching inside her.
“Why don’t I bring up a tray? We can eat in here. And read.”
“Then I don’t need my clothes, do I?”
“Not tonight.” Her soft laugh was bittersweet.
She caught her reflection in the mirror. The woman she saw appeared different. Water wetted her skirt. Hair fell loose. Her eyes were glossy and bright. All her features were the same, but she was luminous. And determined.
All her life, she’d taken care of others. This path of thinking only of her own care was still untried territory.
The time had come to get back on it.
