Page 79 of Return of the Viscount
She shook her head. “None.”
“Good,” he breathed in obvious relief.
And then he began to move, sometimes sweeping her away in his urgency and power, other times moving so slowly that she lifted her hips off the bed to capture him. Everything made her ache in new and wondrous ways, and she reveled in it all, even as she knew it could only be temporary.
When Michael awoke before dawn, he tensed, waiting for his wife to flee their bed as she had the day before. But she was still asleep, and he was able to prop himself up on his elbow and study her. Her complexion was not as pale as other English beauties because she preferred to walk the land rather than remain indoors. But he liked that. He lifted a strand of golden hair and inhaled, smelling the elusive, floral scent that he would forever associate with her.
She blinked drowsily and opened her eyes, and he relaxed when she didn’t seem surprised to see him. In that moment, as he yearned for her to smile at him, he knew he was falling in love with her, and it had nothing to do with a debt to his past. It was all about the woman she was and how he could no longer imagine his life without her. But what should be a joyous feeling was instead brimming with uncertainty, for although she tolerated him, even desired him, all of it was still very reluctant. Even if she had tender feelings for him, she would never admit it, and it would scare her away if he admitted his own.
She wasn’t ready to share thoughts and hopes. He found himself wanting to talk about his brother’s law practice, and his concern that Allen would have less time for managing the Blackthorne estate. Cecilia would be the perfect one to take over the work—but she wasn’t ready to hear that. She was too focused on her brother.
So he smiled and saved the discussion for a later time. “Good morning, my sweet.”
He waited for her to object to the endearment, but instead, she gave him a faint frown.
“You dreamed in the night,” she murmured, looking troubled.
He silently cursed the dreams of his fallen comrades, over which he had no control. “I am sorry I disturbed you.”
“No, please, you didn’t call out or toss around—much. I’m ... simply not used to someone else being in my bed.”
She blushed and briefly looked away, pulling the counterpane closer to her chin like one of the shields on the drawing-room wall that used to guard her ancestors.
“What were you dreaming about?” she asked.
He shrugged and sat up as if to stretch out his back. He couldn’t look at her as he misled her. “I don’t really remember. Battles, I think. Nothing to speak of.”
“It must be terrible to risk your life every day.”
She laid her palm low on his back, comforting him. For the first time, he realized he didn’t want to tell her about his part in her father’s death. But ... if he was so certain he’d made an honest mistake, and didn’t feel guilty, why didn’t he wish to tell her? He’d never considered that before.
“Skill and training help a man reduce his risk,” Michael said almost absently.
“And you seem a very dedicated sort of man.”
Now he heard amusement in her voice, and turned back to study her. She was staring at his torso, at the muscles she probably wasn’t used to seeing if her smile was any indication. But then that faded, and he knew she was seeing the scars.
He gestured to them impatiently. “These were wounds of the flesh, none deep. More annoyances than anything else.”
“You could have died of infection,” she chastised him.
“Perhaps, but I didn’t.”
He was the one who left the bed first.
Cecilia sat up and watched her husband, feeling even more intrigued now that she’d made love to him twice. She felt she knew him so much more ... personally, intimately.
And she knew he was holding something back, something about the dreams. It might be something as simple as wanting to keep the dangerous details from her innocent ears, she thought with annoyance. But it wasn’t just that. What didn’t he want her to know about the dreams?
As he drew on his trousers, she changed the subject. “Though you never rebuked me, I did invite your family to my home, where someone is trying to—harm me. I never thought I might be putting them in danger. They didn’t seem ... real to me, when I was trying to discover the truth about you.”
He came back to the bed and looped his arm around the bedpost. “I know. And I do not fear for them here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I recently had a discussion with your brother about security. Since your fall into the hole, we’ve increased the patrols of the watchmen. Tom and Will have been taking turns in the family wing at night in the corridors.”
She slowly smiled. “You thought to discuss it with my brother? Thank you.”
