Wife. She was this stern man’swife!
And—
“Kendall,” she repeated like anumpty. “Not . . . not Tristan?”
Though even as she asked the question, she knew it to be wrong. The man before her would never beTristan.
“No.” Finally, he looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Only twopeople—my mother and my sister—have ever been granted permission to refer to me asTristan. I do not expect to extend the privilege again.”
Oof.
Well, that certainly made her position in his life clear, did it not?
“And our itinerary aboard your ship?” she repeated.
“We shall sail clockwise around the Isle of Great Britain, occasionally stopping to re-provision—Cornwall, Wales, Cumbria and so on.” Noticeably, he didnotmention Scotland, though surely they would round the whole of her homeland in circumnavigating the island. “The thought of visiting Paris or Rome, where we would encounter other English nobility this time of year . . .” His voice drifted off.
Isolde understood only too well his meaning.
Neither of them wished to spend their days deflecting pointed looks and barbed comments from their peers. To don cheerful faces and pretend their marriage had been a joyous event.
“Aye,” she agreed. “A leisurely cruise around the coast of Britain sounds lovely.”
And it did. Quiet. Remote.
Kendall nodded, and she noticed the tiniest softening of his countenance. As if her approval mattered to him.
His reaction emboldened her tongue.
“Will we stay in harbor inns along the way?” she asked. Allie had mentioned once that her brother’s ship did not have proper sleeping cabins.
“My steamship underwent a refurbishment last year,” he replied, stretching his long legs across the carriage interior, his shoes brushing against the silk of her skirt. “I had a string of small cabins combined to form a proper bedchamber and bathing room. Therefore, we shall not need to stop at local inns. I will ensure you are comfortable throughout the journey.”
His words were gently said.
But Isolde snagged on one fact only—
A bedchamber. Singular.
No doubt, it was sumptuous.
A place where they would have all the time in the world to . ..
She broke off at the thought.
Her stomach tumbled and rolled, the snakes writhing once more. And when the carriage wheels rocked over a particularly uneven stretch of flagstone, she feared she might be sick.
Do not think upon it.
She pressed a hand to her belly, willing the nausea to subside.
Would she truly lie with this man tonight? No matter his physical attractiveness, she desperately wished to know him further before engaging in such intimacy.
Kendall shifted, his hand methodically straightening a crease along the thigh of his trousers.
“I must ask, given the unexpected . . . nature . . . of our nuptials,” he began, gaze fixed on his knees, “do you wish to consummate our marriage this evening?”
Isolde felt her jaw sag at the unforeseen question.
