“Gracias, querida,” he said, kissing her forehead with a reverence that stole her breath.
In the aftermath of their arrival, the tension between them in the carriage had dissipated. They had come together. And that same odd closeness lingered now. Not a pax, precisely. But an understanding of sorts. They needed each other.
She knew she must not allow it to undermine her plan.
And yet, in his arms, extricating herself seemed almost impossible.
“You need not thank me,” she said softly. Sincerely. “I am your wife now, Alessandro. And neither am I a woman who takes her duties lightly. We will have Marchmont returned to its glory in no time.”
They stared at each other.
She became acutely aware of his heat searing her, his height, the muscled strength of his lean body, his scent enveloping her. Was it her imagination, or was his heart beating faster beneath her touch? Her lips parted, longing overwhelming her.
She wanted his kiss.
On her mouth.
Oh, how she wanted it.
A knock came at the chamber door. They pulled apart as if they were two unwed lovers being caught in a clandestine embrace. Reality returned to her in a swift, bitter rush, reminding her they were not lovers helplessly in each other’s thrall. They were husband and wife out of necessity.
Her husband did not love her.
He could not even bring himself to kiss her lips.
Straightening her skirts and brushing a stray tendril of hair from her face, she turned to the door. “You may enter.”
The door opened to reveal her lady’s maid, Sadler. Her gaze instantly darted back and forth between Catriona and Alessandro. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, my lady, my lord. I did not mean to intrude. I was going to see about unpacking the rest of your trunks, my lady.”
There is nothing to intrude upon, Catriona thought grimly.
Instead, she smiled at the domestic. “No need to beg anyone’s pardon, Sadler. His lordship was just informing me of all the wondrous help we shall have invading these halls tomorrow.”
“That will be most excellent, my lady, my lord.” Sadler smiled back, her expression still hesitant.
She could not blame her lady’s maid, for Catriona was not accustomed to her husband’s presence in her chamber either. She hoped he planned to visit frequently, embraces included. She flicked a glance back at her husband, who showed no indication of leaving. He was yet gazing upon her, his countenance unreadable.
When he looked at her like that, she forgot to breathe.
How vexing he was, hot and then cold, pulling her in and then pushing her away.
“Will you walk with me, my lady?” he asked suddenly, startling her when he offered her his arm.
She eyed him, not trusting her resolve. Not trustinghim.
“Where do you intend to go this late in the evening?” she asked.
“To the gardens,” he answered enigmatically. “You will not regret it. I promise.”
She was sure she would.
But she took his arm, casting a glance back at her maid. “Sadler, I—”
“Do not wait up for her ladyship,” Alessandro interrupted. “When you finish your unpacking, you may settle yourself for the evening.”
“Of course, my lord.” Sadler dipped into a curtsy.
Catriona allowed him to whisk her from the chamber, wondering precisely what her husband was about. But then, she realized it did not matter.
