Page 83 of The Lord Next Door
Chapter
Twenty-One
David came up on his elbows and stared down at Victoria, all pink with passion, her eyes sleepy and satisfied.
“Am I too heavy for you?” he asked.
“Never,” she whispered.
He lowered himself fully, and she gave a strangled gasp before he rose up again.
“I can be too heavy,” he insisted.
She smiled. “Maybe.”
He slid off her and watched as her eyes blinked slowly, so slowly.
“Thank you for taking your time with me,” she whispered.
She nuzzled her head against his arm, getting comfortable.
“You’re welcome.”
She was asleep almost immediately, naked on top of the bed. He pulled down the blankets on his half, then slid her within and covered her right to her chin—as if not looking at her would somehow stop this obsession for her that seemed uncomfortably large.
He didn’t want to recognize the feelings that fought within him—he didn’t want to consider them, to think how his marriage had changed.
Then why did it feel as if everything in his life now revolved around Victoria, instead of his own meticulous plans?
He quietly picked up her garments and laid them over the chaise, then gathered his own clothes and took them to his room. His bed was cold and lonely, but…safe.
~oOo~
Victoria felt the sun before she even opened her eyes. She stretched with blissful contentment, then turned her head to say good morning to her husband.
But David wasn’t there.
He had his own bedroom, of course. Her parents had slept in separate rooms. But somehow she’d hoped her marriage might be different.
It truly was, she reminded herself. David had shown her everything she could hope for in a husband. He would confide in her now, tell her things that—
But would she confide in him?
A cold feeling weighted her heart. What would he say if she revealed her father’s suicide? That she had lied to him, lured him into marriage with a falsehood, when he’d told her during his proposal how he felt about scandal? What would he think about her lies now, after they’d shared this ultimate intimacy?
She would not consider it. She knew now how bothered he’d been by the scandals of his household, how prideful he was. She could keep this secret. What did a commoner’s death matter to anyone? No one knew, except her mother and sisters, and they wouldn’t tell.
This decision had been made a year ago; she would not betray her family now—or her father’s memory.
Not even for her husband.
Covered in a warm dressing gown, she sat down at her desk and opened the drawer where she kept her journals. What could she write? How could she describe what she’d experienced in David’s arms? She closed the drawer.
After bathing and dressing, she went down for a late breakfast. To her surprise, David was just leaving his study. He looked up as she came down the stairs, and she gave him a radiant smile, feeling self-conscious but happy. Just seeing him made her want to shiver as she remembered what his hands had done to her, how he’d made her feel.
He nodded and returned her smile, but it seemed…too normal, almost distant.
“Good morning, Victoria.”
