He had not wanted to say the words. Because he still could not believe her feelings had been genuine. How could she have loved him and done what she did?
Misgiving mingled with the resentment.
What if she had not betrayed him at all? What if her love had been true? What if everything that had befallen him after they had arrived in London had been because of Longleigh? He would not shy away from ascribing any evil to the duke. That much was certain.
“I thought we had loved one another,” he said.
“As did I.” Her gaze searched his, so vibrant and verdant. Haunted by shadows.
Sadness.
She shivered, and he took note of the chill in the air. The day had been a damp one, sodden with rain. She still did not wear a stitch.
“You are cold. Come beneath the bedclothes.” He issued the invitation whilst telling himself he could resist her. He had gone this long and only made love to her once. He could control himself, maintain his restraint.
“You are certain you want me here?”
Her question had him experiencing a new wave of guilt. Was he that much of an ogre to her? Yes, he had to admit. He had been. And regardless of what he believed—whether or not she had betrayed him and buckled beneath Longleigh’s malicious pressure—he could not deny that she had been nothing but caring and concerned toward him since their marriage.
She had made him feel at home in a place where he had very much doubted he ever could. She made certain he ate. She found him when he was tormented by nightmares. She watched himself and Robby with an expression of profound adoration—he had caught her at it more than once. And he had believed the emotion had been directed solely upon their son. Now, he was not nearly as convinced.
“I want you to be warm,” he said, which was as much of an admission as he could make just now.
He threw back the bedclothes. She hesitated a moment before climbing in beside him. Adrian covered her swiftly, glad for the respite from her tempting nudity. But then there remained the matter of her naked and within reach.
In the same bed.
He swallowed. “Are you warmer now?”
“Yes.” She scooted nearer, until they were aligned from hip to shoulder.
And God help him, but he did not want to move. The sensation of her soft, lush curves pressed against him was wonderful. He shifted a bit nearer, almost instinctively.
“Mayhap we should lower the lamp,” she said.
Which meant she intended to remain here, pressed to him, for the remainder of the night. What sweet torture. He could not deny her. The prospect seemed at once terrible and tremendous. He did not want it, and yet he could not resist it.
“Leave it for a bit,” he told her gruffly, slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her nearer still. “I do not mind keeping the darkness and the demons at bay.”
“Neither do I.” Her voice was low and softer than velvet.
Her left hand found his right where it had draped over her waist. Their fingers tangled and held. He counted his breaths, then counted hers, and watched the flickering glow of the lamp until he could watch it no longer.
Chapter 16
This letter must be destroyed after you have read it, along with any correspondence I have sent. Our ties, following this agreement, shall be forever cut.
~letter from the Duke of Longleigh to Mr. Adrian Hastings
The day had dawned with a gloomy portent that had carried on to the afternoon. Rain slashed at the windows, the skies beyond dreary and gray where they were not obscured by thick fog. Impossible to believe the night had ended in such promise, only for the grim reality of the day to intercede and dash her hopes.
Tilly worked on some embroidery now as she sat in the drawing room, only half a mind upon the roses she was meant to be stitching as the torrent of rain continued to blanket the city. Not far from her, Adrian was seated upon the Axminster along with Robby. A mountain of toy horses was between them.
“And this fine horse is a stallion, lad. Can you say stallion?” Adrian asked, holding up the toy horse in question for their son’s eager-eyed perusal.
Robby clapped his hands and said something that sounded nothing like stallion.
Adrian beamed. “Bravo, lad. We shall have you speaking full sentences in a trice.”
