Not even the faintest peck upon her lips.
Her heart panged just pondering it.
If he had married Miss Hampstead, he would likely not have been so hesitant. Theirs would not have been a marriage of convenience. After all, rumor claimed he had sold his commission and joined the Presidential Army in India all because his betrothed had requested it. Those were hardly the actions of an indifferent man.
Leah blinked back tears in earnest now.
Was she truly so unattractive that Fox couldn’t bring himself to touch his lips to hers?
All evidence pointed to . . . yes.
The knowledge burned like her tears, acidic and hot.
It was to have been her first kiss.
Perhaps, even, heronlykiss.
If their wedding vows, matrimonial tradition, and the expectations of an entire congregation of people could not coax Fox to kiss her, she suspected nothing would.
Thirty-eight years old, and she had never known the touch of a man’s lips.
And now, unless Fox had a change of heart about the terms of their marriage, she never would, as she intended to be a true and faithful wife to him.
But she could find contentment. She could. Shewould.In creating a home for herself, in raising Madeline, in ensuring Fox’s days were filled with comfort.
Briefly, she permitted herself to rest her head atop his on her shoulder, to breathe in his scent and savor the weight of him leaning against her. Yearning swelled her chest.
Slowly, she pulled off her glove and raised her bare hand, cupping Fox’s cheek to her head. His whiskers scritched along her palm, her fingers tracing the smooth triangle of skin beside his ear.
Fox sighed, nuzzling her neck and murmuring indistinctly in his sleep. Leah could not bring herself to ponderwhohe thought she might be in this moment. Not herself.Thatshe knew.
But even so, she allowed herself five minutes. Five minutes of imagining a different sort of reality. One in which Fox murmured words for her. Where he kissed her soundly after their vows. Where they were now racing home, both eager for what the night would yet bring. Where they would wake up tomorrow, properly man and wife, excitedly facing the bright dawn of their life together.
Leah allowed the images to flood her. Fox cradling her cheek and calling herlove. The two of them cuddled together in the dark of night, giggling as they recalled how Dr. Ruxton had tripped over his words during the ceremony, how Mrs. Clark had saidamentoo loudly, sending a titter through the wedding guests.
Leah let it all pool in her mind—glowing and joyous and so achinglydesired—and then, with brutal efficiency, she emptied the pail, casting off her longing like dishwater out the kitchen door.
Such yearning would only bring her unhappiness in the end. After all, contentment was not measured by experiences lived, but by one’s attitude toward those experiences.
Fox had clearly outlined the parameters of their marriage. Leah would adhere to them: she would not touch him, would not watch him adoringly, would not beg to know his innermost soul.
And in doing so, she would ensure that Fox never discovered the true wishes of her own heart.
8
Leah awoke with a start as the carriage rolled from the dirt road onto clattering cobbled pavement.
Jolting upright, she realized that she and Fox had fallen asleep against one another, their bodies slumped together.
If Fox noticed, he didn’t let on. Instead, he lifted his head off her shoulder, stretched, and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.
Unfortunately for Leah’s resolve,just awakenedwas a remarkably attractive look on Fox Carnegie.
“We’ve arrived, it appears.” He peered out the window as the carriage swayed to a stop. Beyond his shoulders, Leah saw nothing but gray stone. She began tying her bonnet strings.
He turned back to her, picking up his hat, mouth opening to say something.
The door to the carriage flew open.
