She was beginning to think she could.
She bit her lip, struggling to find an answer that would not make her more vulnerable than she already was.
“We should eat,” he said then, saving her from a response.
As if he had not just said something that had shaken her to her core, regardless of how determined she was to remain aloof and guard her heart.
She nodded, however, grateful for the distraction. “Yes. We ought to.”
He began to fill a plate with generous portions of the various foods. “The rain and cold is regrettable, but I cannot say I mind sitting here before a fire instead of outside on the lumpy ground.”
“It is cozy,” she agreed.
And intimate.
And there was a bed just over his shoulder, dominating the opposite wall. She tried to forget its existence. To think of it as nothing more than an uninspiring piece of furniture, no different than a chair or a table or a divan. After all, he had proved to her that a bed was not required for lovemaking, even if that was where she had always supposed it exclusively occurred until he had shown her how wrong she had been.
“Here you are, my dear.” He offered her the plate he had finished filling.
“Thank you.” She accepted it, their fingers brushing. No gloves today to keep her skin from his, and the contact sent an electric charge straight through her, along with a rush of longing.
Izzy settled her plate in her lap, and then distracted herself by taking another sip of her wine as Zachary repeated his efforts. When he had finished, his plate laden with food as well, he raised his glass to her in a toast.
“To my lovely wife,” he said softly, his countenance open and unguarded.
The tenderness in his gaze stole her breath.
She raised her glass as well. “To my handsome husband.”
Husband.
It still felt surreal, that title. Knowing they were wed. That he was hers and she was his. Surreal, but…good. There was no denying it; this honeymoon had brought them closer together. She found it increasingly difficult to fortify her defenses.
“I was thinking that tomorrow we might investigate the grotto,” he said into the companionable silence that had descended. “Greymoor has had it redone, and he is quite proud of the final product. Perhaps even a swim in the pool, as I understand it is heated. What do you think?”
They had already spent time at the Roman ruins—walls neatly erected and still in place after centuries had passed—and visited the orangery. They had gone boating in the manmade lake, walking in the extensive gardens, and had spent a good deal of time cycling about together. But swimming? In a pool? Alone with the compelling man opposite her?
How would she resist him then?
And more importantly, did she want to?
“That sounds delightful,” she said, despite her misgivings.
“Excellent.” Zachary took another drink of wine, watching her from beneath lowered lids in a way that made more heated awareness blossom. “I hope I have been keeping you suitably entertained during our honeymoon.”
Suitably entertained.There was no innuendo in his tone or his words, but they still brought to mind sinful ideas. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she yearned for him.
“You have entertained me quite well.” Of course he had. Just not in the manner the wickedest part of her would have wished. “I did not expect it to be so busy.”
Busy and lacking in lovemaking.
She quelled the unworthy thought. This was what she wanted, was it not? To keep him at a distance, to maintain her pride. Surely the lack of intimacy would only aid her in her attempts to protect her from opening her heart to him once again. Would it not?
Of course it would. She should be happy. Shewashappy. Who needed lovemaking on a honeymoon? Not her.
“I sense a bit of disappointment,” he said, drawing her attention to his lips as he raised his wine glass. “You are displeased in some way?”
Yes.
