She was the farthest thing from decent. Her dress and petticoat were both pooled at her feet, and she was sitting there in nothing but her stockings, bloomers, and chemise, with only a few layers of her bindings unwrapped.
But Yuri only briefly glanced at her discarded clothing and the way she was sitting there in her undergarments as he entered with a cup of steaming tea. His eyes found her face in less than half a second, and he kept them there.
“I would have helped with the bindings had you waited.” He set the tea on the bedside stand and then sat beside her, still keeping his eyes on her face.
“I got it tangled.” She tugged on a twisted length of cotton at her side.
“Here. Let me help.” Yuri’s voice was soft, his movements slower than before as he brushed her hands aside. His fingers were steady as they found the knotted edge and began to loosen the worst of the twists. “You must have been in agony walking around with both the bindings and the corset and the tight bodice on that dress.”
She swallowed. “I needed to look professional.”
“You needed to let your body heal.”
Agnes hadn’t thought much of Yuri when they’d met for brunch. Her new husband, Arnold, worked for the Treasury Department. Both Agnes and Arnold had asked the same typesof questions as Mr. Holloway about what Yuri did for work and whether he owned a company. And though Agnes hadn’t found anything she could outright criticize about Yuri, Rosalind had been able to see the judgment in her friend’s gaze. He wasn’t wealthy enough, he didn’t wear a fancy enough suit, he didn’t refer to politicians by their first names or belong to any of the prominent clubs for gentlemen in the city. But perhaps his worst offense had been not treating their waitstaff with condescension, or Agnes and Arnold with the deference they would have believed was theirs.
No. He was simply kind and polite to everyone, and extra attentive to her in a way Arnold hadn’t been with Agnes. Yuri hadn’t said anything about Agnes and Arnold’s probing questions or the smug looks on their faces when he gave them an answer that displeased them. He’d simply supported her throughout the entire meal, leaning his head close and asking if she was in too much pain, watching her carefully to see if he could spot anything amiss.
Just like he was supporting her now by helping with her bindings without ever looking at her in a way that made her feel ashamed.
She’d known for months that if she ever married, she wanted to marry someone like Yuri Amos. But somehow, over the past few weeks, he’d gone from being the kind of person that she wanted to marry to being the one and only person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
Or rather, to stay married to.
Because they were married. And the longer she was married to him, the more she didn’t want their marriage to end.
A lump rose in her throat. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She’d signed those annulment papers with the full intention of granting him the annulment once she’d moved her money and was safely in Texas.
And she’d known she had feelings for him even then, but having a bit of attraction wasn’t the same thing as love. She couldn’t quite say when her feelings turned to something more, but now she’d gone and fallen in love with the man beside her in a way she couldn’t ignore.
“Yuri,” she whispered, leaning close.
His eyes met hers. He was nearly done with the bandage now, but when she spoke his name, his eyes moved immediately to hers, and he paused. “Is something wrong?”
Was it just her imagination, or did his voice emerge lower and more gravely than usual?
But nothing was wrong. Her ribs still hurt, but she barely noticed the pain, because for the first time, it seemed like everything in her life might finally be right.
She was married. To a man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with. To a man she knew would spend his every last breath taking care of her the way a husband was supposed to care for a wife.
There was only one more thing she could possibly ask for. Her gazed dipped to his lips, and she leaned closer, then pressed her mouth to his.
The warmth of his lips flooded through her like sunlight after winter. He let out a small sound, then moved his hand from the bandage up to the side of her neck and pulled her closer.
He kissed her slowly, but it was so very tender, as if he was putting every last bit of energy he had into memorizing the shape of her mouth. His thumb brushed the hollow behind her ear, and her hands curled into the front of his shirt, where his heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath her palms. She leaned even closer, the ache in her chest melting into a pool of warmth.
And then he was pulling back. He gave no warning, just wrenched himself away from her and jumped off the bed.
“I’m sorry, Ros. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His eyes were closed, as though he couldn’t quite manage to look at her.
“Don’t say that. I liked it.”
“I did too.” He raked a hand through his hair. “That’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand. We’re married. There’s nothing wrong with us kissing or... uh, doing more than kissing.”
His jaw clenched. “There is when we’re getting an annulment.”
“But what if I don’t want an annulment? What if I want?—”
