Fox didn’t know. He pressed a trembling hand over the flask in his coat.
“Walking,” she prompted.
“Yes.” He scrambled to change the topic. “And how about yourself? How do you see spending your days?”
“Oh, gracious!” she laughed again. “I cannae say I’ve given it much thought beyond organizing the household and staff. I ken that managing the house and keeping Madeline occupied will take most of my time for the foreseeable future.”
“Yes, I imagine it will,” Fox replied, approving of the way she had already accepted Madeline into her life, sight unseen.
And then . . . they said nothing more.
Fox gazed out at the hills and to the mountains beyond. The glen rose gently but surely, the land becoming wilder with every passing mile.
The carriage rocked and swayed, and Fox found it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. He fell asleep to an image of Leah perusing his library.
Fox Carnegie wasasleep on her shoulder—
Correction.
Herhusbandwas asleep on her shoulder.
It was almost unfathomable how quickly her life had changed. Had she told the Leah of four weeks ago that come mid-May, she would be married—and to Captain Fox Carnegie!—she would have fainted from astonishment.
And Leah had not fainted once in her life.
But as the carriage jolted along the mountain road, Fox had fallen asleep, head back. A wee while later, a particularly hard bump had sent him slumping sideways, finding her a convenient pillow. Poor man. He was exhausted and, given the amount of alcohol he had downed during their wedding breakfast, of course sleep would claim him.
His forehead touched her ear, his nose to her neck. She could feel the warm rush of his breath along her jaw. His lips had to be mere inches from her throat.
The very thought sent an aching shiver down her spine, rendering her skin hot and feverish.
Ignore it,she pleaded with herself.Do not wish for more than he is willing to give. It will only bring heartache.
She had noted his brief panicked expression as they talked, the way he batted the conversation back to her.
He was a man who kept his secrets close. Leah had supposed as much, and she would try to respect his privacy, no matter how thoroughly curiosity assailed her.
She inhaled slowly, attempting to ignore the musky scent of shaving soap, whisky, and sleeping man at her side.
Mrs. Fox Carnegie.
That was herself now.
How odd that a few minutes before a vicar and her signature in a parish record could tie her for life to a man who was little more than a stranger.
She would forever remember Fox sliding the wedding ring onto her bare finger, both of them staring down at the gold band, Leah marveling at its tingling, unfamiliar weight.
And then, leaving Thistle Muir for the last time after their wedding breakfast . . .
Well, best not to think upon that if she didn’t wish to weep.
Hers were not tears of sadness, per se. Merely the surfeit of emotion that such a monumental change in one’s life could bring. Even now, she could feel the bridal sixpence Aileen had placed in her boot.
“For good luck,” her sister-in-law had whispered, hugging her tight. “For a happy life.”
But not everything had gone as expected.
Fox had declined to kiss her after their wedding vows.
