He looked as if he was pained somehow by her answer. His hazel eyes flickered and he hung his head for a moment. Then he made his way over to her, putting his massive hands on her upper arms in a labored, if not thoughtful, gesture. His fingers caressed her as he thought on his reply.
“I will confess something,” he whispered. “It was never, under any circumstances, my intention to become attached to anyone, least of all you. I do not know what it is about you that draws me to you, but something does. Whether it is what my mother said to me on our wedding day, or simply what I feel, I am not sure. All I know is that I feel something for you, something that terrifies and puzzles me. But it is the most wonderful feeling I have ever had.”
By this time, he was looking at her. Devereux met his gaze; she could feel something from him, something warm and fearful. She understood the feeling well. After a moment, her expression softened.
“I understand completely,” she smiled faintly. “I am experiencing it myself. But you scare me.”
“I know. You scare me, too.”
She sighed thoughtfully. “We simply cannot go through this marriage afraid of each other.”
“What do we do?”
She cocked her head. “We should add something more to our list.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ah, yes, the list. I’d almost forgotten. What should we add?”
She sighed again, thinking. “We should add that we promise to never intentionally hurt one another. Maybe that would help.”
His smile broke through. “It might,” he agreed. “I swear upon my oath that I will never intentionally hurt you.”
“So do I.”
He laughed softly. “You swear on your oath?”
She grinned as he chuckled. “And why not? My oath was my marriage vow.”
His laughter faded as he looked her in the eye. There was something deadly serious in his expression. “So is mine.”
She continued smiling and he kissed her on the cheek, then on the lips. He put a big hand on her head, stroking her hair as he gazed into her lovely gray eyes.
“You are such a beautiful woman,” he murmured. “I cannot believe that I am so fortunate.”
“Nor I.”
“You have me afraid to utter sweet words, you know. I am afraid you will think them insincere.”
“I am coming to know the difference.”
“Good.”
He kissed her again and with a final stroke of the hair, went to the screen that blocked the door and moved it aside. He strolled into the master chamber beyond, stark naked.
Devereux followed, torn between embarrassment and pleasure at the sight of his bare buttocks. She wasn’t used to men parading around nude and struggled not to stare as he went toone of the enormous wardrobes and threw open the doors. He began pulling garments out, throwing them around the floor and tossing a few up onto the bed until he came across what he was looking for. As Devereux watched, he pulled on a pair of leather breeches and a pale linen tunic with short sleeves.
“Sweetling,” he turned to her as he fussed with the neck of the tunic. “My boots are in the dressing room. Can you get them for me?”
Devereux nodded and returned to the room with the big tub in the center of it. His boots were scattered on the floor and she picked them up. They were massive, heavy and dirty, and she struggled not to get dirt on herself as she carried them back to him. She handed him one and he took it with a grateful smile. He took the second one with a kiss.
“Now,” he faced her, fully dressed, with his hands on his hips. “Do you wish to see the rest of the manor?”
She shook her head. “I cannot. My hair is wet and I must dry it first.”
He nodded shortly. “Do you require help?”
Again, she shook her head. “I can do it myself.”
“Will you be ready for the evening meal?”
