Page 21 of Papa's Captive
Chapter 11
The morning sunlight bathed Rosie in an enchanting golden glow, revealing a thousand different shades of brown hair. Most strands were nearly black, while others were a lighter chestnut brown, and a few even gleamed auburn in the light. She was radiant in her beauty, this little dark-haired treasure who now belonged to him.
Her skin was pale and smooth in stark contrast with her dark locks. William dragged a finger along her collar bone and thought he could be content to watch her sleep for hours. But a tightening in his groin soon turned his thoughts far from sleep.
They were married now. Husband and wife. Papa and little girl.
He hadn’t claimed her when they’d arrived in the early hours of the morning, as both of them had been exhausted. After two days of hard travel, he also wanted to allow her the luxury of a long, warm bath before he claimed her. He ought to get himself cleaned up soon, too. Fortunately, he had sent his trusted valet, Frederick, to Craigmul Castle ahead of time, and William would be able to prepare for the day quickly with his valet’s help. Perhaps he ought to attend to such matters now, before Rosie awoke.
He sat up in bed, holding her head in his lap as he stroked her hair. Her chest rose and fell in steady intervals and she occasionally sighed in her sleep. Emotion tightened in his chest. He hated to leave her and hoped she didn’t awake before his return. He leaned down to place a lingering kiss to her forehead, then he slipped out of bed as quietly as could be managed.
Not wishing to disturb Rosie’s slumber, William got cleaned up and dressed in the adjoining room which was meant for the lady of the house, a room he planned to have redecorated to suit his beloved’s tastes as soon as could be arranged. Frederick appeared with a pair of pressed trousers, a crisp white shirt, patterned waistcoat and coat as well as black polished shoes. William soon emerged from the chamber, feeling refreshed and more like himself in the clean clothes after having made haste to Gretna Green with little preparation or packing. He’d been in such a hurry—his only thought taking Rosie into his possession—that he’d only asked Cook to prepare some food for the quick journey and told Frederick to leave immediately for Craigmul Castle without bothering to pack a trunk.
Rosie hadn’t complained once about his haste after she’d gotten over her initial shock. A thrill ran through him at the memory of holding her close on the horse as they galloped away from Talcott House, her as his little prisoner. William was prone to acts of spontaneity, a trait of which his parents had tried to unsuccessfully cure him, though when it came to Rosie it seemed his impulsive side had been beneficial. If not for his quick inclination to assist Lord Grayson in stopping Cynny from marrying another several months ago, William would not have ventured to Talcott House and met Rosie in the first place. And now, she was his bride.
He strode into his bedchamber and found her still asleep, though she’d turned over and curled up on her side. She had kicked the covers off herself, too, and her shift had ridden up to her thighs, revealing her shapely pale legs. He couldn’t help but pause midway through the chamber and stare at the alluring sight that greeted him.
Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? He was drawn to her like no other, every fiber of his being calling out to her. Craving her. Demanding her.
Approaching the bed, he cleared his throat and waited for her to rouse. She had slept for hours in the carriage, in his arms, and she’d since slept for several hours in his bed. She could finish catching up on her rest after they consummated their marriage, he decided. Though he didn’t think anyone would bother chasing them—not given the vast sum his solicitor had given Miss Wickersham—he still would not risk it.
He would not be able to entirely rest until he claimed Rosie’s body.
Until he breached the barrier of her innocence and drove home again and again.
She stretched and rubbed her eyes, then when her gaze met his, she gifted him with the sweetest, brightest of smiles. “Good morning, Papa.” She peered around the room, her eyes taking in the splendor of the castle for the first time during the light of day.
It had been dark, the castle dimmed, when they had rolled up in the carriage in the early morning hours. Both of them had gone to sleep only minutes after arriving.
“Wow, Papa. This place is…like a fairytale.” She rose from the bed and spun in a slow circle, taking in her surroundings.
She ohhhed and ahhed over the burgundy velvet curtains, gasped at the majestic view from the window of the lush gardens and rolling green hills, and stared in open wonder at the handcrafted furnishings and elegant décor. She moved from painting to painting, eager to take in each piece of artwork, and she stood transfixed in front of a sculpture of a bird in flight that William’s father had had commissioned as a gift for his mother. The master bedchamber of the castle, like the rest of the grand structure, was a perfect combination of old and new—the more modern additions, having been carefully selected, blended seamlessly with the more ancient areas of the castle.
William couldn’t help but beam inwardly with pride that she approved of the old ancestral home that had belonged to his family for six generations. He hadn’t visited Craigmul Castle since he’d inherited the earldom just over a year ago, at the time of his father’s passing. He made a mental note to reward the castle servants for their dedication and hard work in keeping the estate in good order. Anything that pleased his bride most certainly pleased him.
“Are you hungry?” Papa asked.
“Famished, Papa.”
He couldn’t be certain, but thought he detected a hidden meaning behind her answer. Her voice sounded more sensual than usual and her eyes darkened as she spoke. A secretive smile flitted across her face, too. Was his ever so serious Rosie trying to flirt with him? His groin tightened at the realization.
It took all his willpower not to carry her to the bed and have his way with her.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
First, he planned to personally give her a long bath, a shared experience he hoped would help strengthen her trust in him and also help her become accustomed to being unclothed in his presence.
William rang for breakfast to be brought up to the master bedchamber, and within minutes two delicious trays of eggs, toast, sweetcakes, and tea arrived. They dined at a small table in front of the window that overlooked the gardens. Rosie was more talkative than usual, peppering him with questions about the castle. She kept using words like “fantastical” and “fairytale” to describe it, and he again beamed inwardly with pride that she approved of the estate. He couldn’t wait to take her to his country home, Bridgeport Manor, or his residence in London, Caldwell House. If she found the castle pleasing, he had no doubt she would enjoy the luxuriousness of his other estates. His desire to impress her almost startled him. Never in his life had he felt such an intense need to impress another person.
“Why are you smiling, Papa? Did I say something funny?” Rosie asked as she buttered her toast.
“No, my love, I am simply happy to have you in my castle right now. I have been dreaming of bringing you here for months.”
“Well,” she said, placing her knife down with a light clink, “it is not as though you gave me a choice in the matter. Why, Papa, you are practically anoutlaw. Kidnapping. Pfft.” She waved her toast at him in a playful manner as humor lit in her pretty blue gaze. “Though I must say, thus far I am enjoying the conditions of my captivity.”
William laughed out loud and his heart sang. He’d had Rosie in his possession for only three days now and she was already starting to shed some of her clinging sadness, the glint of worry he often glimpsed in her eyes appearing less and less.
“Well, my little captive,” he said, “Perhaps I ought to play the part of the outlaw you’ve accused me of being. I could lock you up, or I could tie you up. Mayhap to the bed.”
