Page 52 of To Bed the Bride
“Logan, I can’t answer that.”
“Why not? We’ve always been honest with each other. Is there a place beyond which we can’t be honest?”
“There are subjects that we should not discuss. My corset is one of those.”
She wore a corset, but she slipped it on by fastening the front busk since she didn’t have her own maid. It wasn’t unduly uncomfortable, because she could always adjust it if she wished. Daphne, however, insisted on her corset being pulled tight every morning. Probably because she wanted to prove that she still had a girlish figure even after giving birth twice. Deborah was the same. Sometimes at breakfast her aunt looked pale enough to faint.
None of which Eleanor was going to divulge to Logan.
Even the thought of talking about such things made her feel flushed. Yet one day, in the not too distant future, she would be a wife. A man was going to have the right to do more than speak intimately about her undergarments.
She was going to have to welcome Michael into her bed. He was going to initiate her into lovemaking. It was Michael’s head that was going to be next to hers on the pillow. Michael was going to touch her naked body.
She didn’t want to think about her wedding night, about being in her nightgown in front of Michael. The thought was excruciatingly embarrassing. He would, no doubt, expect her to remain silent and acquiescent through the entire process.
Because she’d been around horses all her life, she had a good idea of what her wedding night entailed. She could almost envision the moment, her sitting on the edge of the marital bed, clad in a new silk nightgown, hands clasped together nervously while her new husband approached her.
Would he say something to her like this?You’re about to bed an earl. I’ve picked you out of all the other women who were pursuing me. You should demonstrate your gratitude, Eleanor.
She’d thought about her wedding night before, but it had never struck her as forcefully as it did now. Michael would know everything about her. Michael would know her intimately.
“What is it, Eleanor?”
“I just realized something,” she said, picking her way through the words. “I just realized something I should have always known. It’s like when you take a walk every day and you never notice a certain house on the corner. Or a certain lamppost or something that was there all along. All of a sudden, for no reason it becomes obvious to you. You see it for the first time when it’s always been there.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it between his hands.
“What’s always been there?”
“Oh, Logan, I can’t tell you. It’s like one of those secret meetings of yours.”
She really should draw her hand away but she kept it in his, taking unexpected comfort from his touch.
“Eleanor, you can always talk to me.”
She stared down at Bruce attacking a leaf. “No, I can’t. You’ve already said that you shouldn’t be here. That you shouldn’t have come. One day you won’t. It’s not fair to become a friend, Logan, and then take that friendship away.”
“Is that what I am, a friend?”
She glanced at him and then off into the distance.
“Yes,” she finally said. “You’re my friend, but you’re more than that. I don’t know what to call you.” She looked at him. “Is there a word for it?”
He met her gaze. “We’re treading on dangerous ground, Eleanor.”
She nodded, well aware of that.
“You’re a conundrum, Eleanor Craig. You represent a temptation, one that I should avoid.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“A wiser man would’ve sent you a note, something along the lines of ‘The press of business requires me to stay in my office this morning. Regrettably, I will be unable to visit with you again.’”
“You’ve evidently penned that note in your mind to know its contents so well. Why didn’t you send it?”
“As I said, you’re a temptation.”
“I didn’t make you kiss me,” she said, annoyed. “I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I’ve simply been myself. A great many people consider me to be excessively boring.”
