Riggs had sailed? To save himself the shame of being humiliated by a woman, perhaps, the owner’s very daughter. He was a proud man and an unforgiving one.
“I’m sorry, Father. In the tumult of our leaving, there was no time to pen you a note. I assumed you would find out from the servants, but it still must have been a shock.”
“What’s done is done, my dear. We shall all have a fresh start here.”
A fresh start.Please, Lord, let it be a fortuitous one.“How long shall you stay with us before you move on to London or Bath?”
“I’ll let Zipporah answer. She’s not yet recovered from the cruise and didn’t feel like walking about with us today. But I suspect she’ll join us for dinner.”
There was something wondrous about living in a newly built house. In hindsight, Royal Vale had been lined with dust no matter the beeswax and vinegar, worn down by more than a century of living. But Ardraigh Hall seemed to be warmwax, waiting for their personal imprint like a seal on pristine paper. What would their mark be?
Coming down the hall in her nightclothes, Juliet reveled in the quiet house. A quarter of an hour earlier she’d gone to the nursery to kiss the twins good night, then tiptoed past her father’s closed door long enough to hear him snoring. Poor Zipporah.
She continued her tiptoeing to the very end of the hall, where her and Leith’s bedchambers connected through a dressing room and water closet. She’d not seen his side as it had been locked. Hers was open and had been designed in a way that bespoke beauty and peace. A haven of color and calm. She felt a little rush of appreciation as she returned to it, her candle casting light on lemon chinoiserie walls and large sash and fan windows open to the moonlight. A coal fire burned brightly enough to last the night, and she moved toward the hearth, the fireside chair inviting.
She was not the least bit tired, though it had been a full day. After breakfast they’d all paid a visit to Lamb Hill, where Loveday had fallen in love with the stillroom and gardens. They’d dined at Paisley at two o’clock, a sumptuous meal ending with blancmange and fresh hothouse berries. Once they’d returned to Ardraigh Hall, Leith had gone riding with Father, then they’d all gathered for supper. Afterward Leith had disappeared again into his study, which adjoined a library shelving more books than she could count.
Pondering it now, she looked toward an open window. All the night sounds of Glasgow were missing. No cry of the night watch. No ribald laughter of latecomers. No carriages on cobblestones. Just the sigh of wind and the subtle call of a nightbird.
Sitting down, she listened for Leith to come upstairs. Orwas he already abed? Perhaps he’d retired when she was in the nursery.
Guided by her candle, Juliet entered the dressing room leading to Leith’s bedchamber. Now his door was ajar as if inviting her in. Surprise overcame reluctance. They were married, were they not? A quick look would quell her curiosity.
One glance at the smooth counterpane told her he was not in the four-poster bed. While her room was more airy and bright, his was heavy and dark blue. If not for the firelight, the darkness would have been profound. She longed to open all four shutters and better see the design of the drapes and the patterned rug beneath her feet.
Setting down the candlestand, she ran a hand over his shaving stand, then, on a whim, hid his razor in a bottom drawer. The looking glass reflected a pale woman with luminous eyes, a loosely tied braid draping over one shoulder of her nightgown.
She opened a shuttered window as quietly as she could. Below was the forecourt with its stone lions and the mile-long driveway that unspooled like silver thread. He’d graciously given her the more colorful garden view.
Hearing a footfall in the corridor, she started toward the dressing room just as the door to the hall clicked open. Caught!
Leith stood there, his gaze canted toward her candle. He himself was backlit by a wall sconce in the corridor. Surprise washed his features. She summoned a breathless apology as he shut the door, and the ensuing draft snuffed her candle.
“Are you waiting up for me, Juliet?”
How rarely he used her given name. “In Glasgow it became my habit to not sleep till I heard you come in.”
He draped his frock coat over a nearby chair. There was ahint of tobacco about him ... and brandy. The peach brandy Father had brought from Virginia?
“So, what do you think of my bedchamber?”
“I confess I like mine better.”
“Too dark for your taste, I’d wager. A blunder of mahogany and brocade.”
She almost smiled at his wording, except he was entirely too near and her feelings began to get the better of her thoughts. If he was striking by day, he was doubly so by night. The shadows erased his hard lines and daunting stoniness, and he seemed altogether more approachable out of his black coat.
“You’re welcome here as my wife.” He reached out and took hold of her left hand where her signet ring rested. It returned her to the moment on theGlasgow Lasswhen they’d made their vows, binding them irrevocably. “I confess to coming into your bedchamber once when you were asleep in Glasgow.”
“Why would you?” she whispered.
“Mayhap the same reason you stand here tonight.”
He let go of her hand, his fingers grazing her braided hair. At his touch, the ribbon that bound it slipped free and fell between them. Rather than retrieve it, he lay a cool hand against her cheek so gently it seemed to hold a question. She simply looked back at him, rimmed in firelight, as his fingers moved to her braid and unraveled it.
She stepped nearer, the satin of his waistcoat smooth beneath her palms as he entwined his hands in her loosened hair. She’d never been kissed, but now she was being kissed so thoroughly and completely she tingled. Lost in the rich newness of him, his rare openness and obvious need of her, she kissed him back. Together they plunged headlong into a wellspring of pleasure made up of murmurs and caresses that had no end—
Until his hands fell away. When he took an abrupt stepback, she looked at him, stomach plummeting. Through the haze of her tears he seemed equally stricken as he stared at her. Their honest, tender moment ended.
