What was she babbling about?
“But, Marcus.” She met his eyes with a glassy gaze. “Today you didn’t even treat me like a friend.” A tear slipped out of her eye and dripped onto the pillow. “I may not be good enough for all kinds of other people. Nor good enough to be a real wife to somebody, but… Marcus. I’d believed us to be friends. And today you treated me like I wasn’t even good enough to be your friend.”
Marcus didn’t know how to respond.
“I didn’t like it. Especially after…” She covered her face with her arm again and turned her head away from him. “It hurt.”
Oh, hell. Confusion balled up inside of him, scrambling most of his thoughts. Friend? He’d never considered the concept in reference to a wife. He stared at this woman who’d been so open with him. She’d done so trustingly.
Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the inadequate words against her soft warm fingertips.
He’d known her for over a year, but had he ever truly known her? The secrets of her heart? Her dreams? Initially, he’d treated her like a younger sister, somewhat entertaining but in need of protection. And then she’d revealed more of herself to him. She’d admitted that her inquisitiveness was not that of a sexless spinster, but that of a woman with needs. And he’d taken enjoyment from that. But he’d kept her at arm’s length. He’d done his best to avoid anything… emotional.
And now she was his wife.
And he’d hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
She nodded, her arm still covering her face. “I’m not quite feeling myself right now.” Her voice came out muffled.
“Your hiccups stopped.” Marcus kept hold of her hand. The area around his heart felt heavy, more than that, it ached. He decided to follow his instincts.
Sitting up, Marcus struggled to remove one boot, and then less so with the other.
They would not be making love tonight.
No, instead, he would make up for the stupidity he’d exhibited today.
“Drink this.” He handed her a glass of water. “Trust me.” He’d over imbibed enough in his lifetime to know that a little water before falling asleep could make all the difference in the morning.
Seeing her through new eyes, from a different perspective, Marcus watched her sit up, brush the hair out of her face, and take a hesitant sip. He reached forward and removed the ridiculously endearing pair of spectacles that sat crookedly on the bridge of her nose, and then placed them on the table. “Drink as much as you can.”
She paused and then downed a little more. When she looked to be finished, he took it from her hands and placed it beside her spectacles. At the same time, he used his other hand to loosen his cravat.
Emily’s eyes grew more alert at his casual gesture. “Not tonight, sweetheart. I’m not that much of a bastard.” He pulled down the counterpane and sheet. “Slide in.”
Too tired, too inebriated to argue, she curled up on her side as he drew the blanket back up. He then snuffed the candles and took a deep breath.
She’d said they were friends.
He climbed in behind her and tucked her up against him. He was going to cuddle her tonight—his friend, his wife.
Because she seemed to need it, and God help him, somehow, so did he.
Do Over
Emily’s mouth tasted like cotton, and her head pounded something fierce. She tried opening her eyes, but the sun was slanting in across the bed and the light only fueled the pain behind her eyes.
Aside from that, she felt warm and comfortable. Why move if one didn’t have to? Especially when one had to face the fact that she was a married woman now, one who’d… Oh, no!
Only when she went to sit up did she realize that the warmth and comfort she experienced was due to the warm, strong body wrapped around her.
She peeked one eye open and could barely make out Marcus’ larger, darker hand casually draped over her arm.
“Go back to sleep,” he growled. They lay so close to one another that his body rumbled against her when he spoke. And something hard poked between her legs.
She knew what it was.
