“Working the bellows mostly,” he waved a hand as if it meant anything less. “I was allowed to swing a hammer eventually, but only on pieces that did not require delicacy or skill. It has been most satisfying, I must admit. Perhaps I have a future in that trade.”
It was then that Charlotte realized something Seth had said earlier. She sat up again, propping herself against the bedstead and resisting Seth’s attempts to make her lie down.
“You saidthree days? We have been here for three days?”
Seth nodded once.
“Were the letters to Mr. Monkton and the Regent written and sent?” Charlotte asked.
Terror gripped her. Her weakness might have caused her love to lose his birthright; it was too much to bear.
“They were written and have been dispatched,” Seth soothed finally.
A great breath of relief escaped her just then. Her eyelids fluttered, and she let herself fall back to the bed. Her muscles felt like water, and fatigue tugged at her like an underwater current. She licked dry lips, and moments later, Seth presented a wooden mug to her mouth, filled with wonderfully cool water. She drank and then let her head sink back to the pillow. Seth assiduously smoothed her damp hair back from her forehead. Her eyes flickered open at the touch.
The peasant clothes he was donning did not mar his handsome features. His jaw was shaded with stubble, and his hair was tied roughly back at the nape of his neck. He looked like a highwayman, and it suited him.
But he is a Duke, and now… I am a Duchess. He needn’t look like this again, not once we return to London.
“I have quite enjoyed my time as a blacksmith’s apprentice,” he spoke up again into the brewing silence, “yes, it has been exhausting, but satisfying all the same.”
“I am sorry you had to go through it all because of me,” she murmured.
He laughed, putting his large arm beneath her head and letting her nestle against him. He drew a blanket around her.
“I’m not. I was worried for you, though the Campbells were not. Mrs. Campbell has seen a hundred fevers, according to her. The doctor reassured me and told me there was nothing to be done but to wait for the fever to break. By then, Donald had returned, but I needed a distraction. Mr. Campbell, graceful as he were, let me continue to work.”
“We should not tell anyone in London that you have worked; it will lead to a scandal,” Charlotte whispered with eyes closed and a sly smile.
Seth chuckled.
“It has shown me that contentment may be found in the oddest places. A village smithy on the Scottish borders. Who knows, perhaps this place to which we go, this Strathaven, will be somewhere we want to stay.”
Charlotte breathed in deeply. His strong scent was overlaid with the metallic tang of the smithy and honest sweat. She thoughtthat smell would forever be associated withhappinessandsafety.
“And what will I do while you are the village blacksmith?” she asked sleepily.
“What would you like to do?” he offered, a smile in his voice, “this is the point where we can choose our own destinies. There is nothing and no one who can dictate what we might do any longer.”
It was a thrilling thought. Charlotte stretched herself out, catlike, against her husband’s warm, hard body.
It’s harder now that he has spent three days at a forge. What will that have done to muscle that already felt like steel?
Despite her weakness, Charlotte felt the stirrings of arousal.
We did not have our wedding night. Did we?
Seth stroked her back as Charlotte lifted her head to rest it on his chest. She ran her hand down his bulging pectorals and onto his stomach, exploring the rigid lines of his abdomen. She turned her head to place her mouth against the rough cloth of his shirt, pursing her lips to kiss. Her hand found the bottom of the garment and slipped beneath, lifting so that she could touch his bare skin.
He turned to face her, lying on his side. She grazed her hand around his waist to his back, fingertips wandering up his spine.
“I have not washed for three days,” she whispered.
“Yes, you have. I have attended to you,’ he replied.
Charlotte’s eyes widened slightly as she considered the implications of what he had just said.
“You… you have bathed me?”
