Page 63 of Suddenly a Bride
“You’ve never struck me as the kind of woman with a faulty memory, Mrs. Haskell.”
He thought she might actually be blushing.
“Thank you, my lord. I shall see what I can discover.”
After she walked away, Edmund’s first thought was that petty crime seemed beneath Earl Langston. The man went for something more elaborate and devious. But there was Prudence’s visit. He couldn’t believe she’d be foolish enough to make mischief because of something that had never happened between them. And she’d come right out and told Gwyneth the truth. Not something a person with plans of revenge would do. But he’d keep an eye on her all the same.
Yet how many people could he keep watch over without missing something crucial?
~oOo~
That night, Gwyneth stood in the corridor outside Edmund’s chamber, waiting for him. She’d taken another bath after supper to ease the continued soreness from horseback riding and felt ready. She tried not to pace with anxiety, but she didn’t know what else to do. She had spent the entire day reliving how her husband had touched her that morning—every gentle caress, every demanding kiss. He knew how to awaken her body to what could exist between a man and a woman, feelings she’d never imagined. She blushed even remembering what he did to her—but not out of embarrassment. Never that. She wanted him to make her feel alive again, and she wanted to do the same thing for him. If only he’d allow her to touch him, to see everything beneath his garments. With a shudder, she closed her eyes and hugged herself as she imagined being held in those strong arms.
“Cold?”
Her eyes snapped open to find Edmund frowning down at her. He must have just followed her from the great hall.
“Nay, not cold,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “I—I wanted to talk to you. Might I come in?”
She saw his hesitation, the way his glance darted to the door and back to her. Then suddenly he cupped her face in his hands and made her look up at him.
“It was a mistake to move so quickly this morning, Gwyneth.”
Her eyes widened in dismay.
“You won’t be joining me in bed tonight.”
She gripped his arms. “But Edmund, I want to be with you. Did I do something wrong? Did I make too much noise, or was I supposed to do more?”
“My God, it was nothing you did,” he said. “You were…perfect. We both need more time, though you may not realize it. I have been married before, so trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“I am not Elizabeth!” she said, with more anger than she’d known she felt.
He smiled and gently pushed her hair behind one ear. “Believe me, I know. Can you do this for me, Gwyneth? Trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. I just wish you’d trust me.”
His smile faded, and as he cupped her cheek, she thought he looked almost wistful.
“I don’t know if I can. A good night to you.”
She stood still, even as he closed the door in her face. If it wasn’t Elizabeth, then what made him distrust her so? Had bringing Harold Langston here only brought back even more memories of what the Langston family had done to him? First Elizabeth, then Harold, then the earl himself. Could Edmund only think of them, her relatives, when he looked into her eyes? How could she make him see only her?
She ran back up through the castle, stumbling because of the tears that burned in her eyes and only releasing them when she was safely in her chamber, in this beautiful room that felt cold and lonely without Edmund.
Chapter 15
Trust her?
Edmund wiped a hand down his face and continued pacing before the hearth. Gwyneth wanted his trust, as if it were something he could easily hand over. He braced his arms on the mantel and stared down into the fire.
Was this so difficult because he reallywasbeginning to trust her? After all, he had only the deadly challenge from the earl to make him suspicious of everyone. What had Gwyneth ever done to make him doubt her?
Just the thought made his head hurt and his mouth go dry. Hadn’t he learned his lesson by now—especially where her family was concerned?
He remembered her lying almost naked in bed that morning, willing to let him do whatever he wanted with her. She wore goodness like a garment—and she seemed to trust him.
And he wanted to trust her, no matter how it would open him up to even more danger. More and more he wanted her in his bed and in his life. Saying no to his desires where she was concerned was becoming impossible. He couldn’t think without his passion for her clouding his thoughts. He felt he was losing his judgment, his pride, and his sanity. He was at war with himself, because when he allowed himself to believe in her, he would be at the mercy of the earl, who could use this new weakness against him.
