He was right in that he had not been demanding, but…ruffians? She pinched her lips together so as not to laugh out loud.
“Tabetha,” he growled. Her husband was not in a laughing mood. Even more than that, behind his bluster she sensed something else: fear.
And since she was his wife, and since she adored him, she wouldn’t fight him on this. His entreaty wasn’t completely unreasonable and denying it most definitely wasn’t worth annoying him.
She gazed at him with the most abject remorse possible, pursing her lips into a dejected pout. “I’m sorry, Rock. I promise, I’ll be more careful in the future. I don’t want to worry you.”
For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to accept her apology, that she might not wiggle back into his good graces so easily, but when she added fluttering lashes, the look in his eyes faded from exasperation to indulgence.
She grasped his hand and pulled him inside. “I love the gowns. They’re perfect!” She lifted the material of her skirts and dropped into a curtsey. “And I’ve had a bath, and Wilma brushed out my hair. And are you quite certain I haven’t always taken care with my appearance? Because I feel so much better now that I’m wearing something pretty.”
The corner of his lip twitched.
“You were teasing me? About fashion?” She widened her eyes, astonished, and thinking she needed to take him to task but also that that was impossible. How could she reprimand him at the same time all these happy butterflies inside her took flight? “Are you some kind of monster?” The admonishment she attempted fell apart when she couldn’t help but smile.
“Teasing you is too easy.” But his gaze flicked downward, lazily inspecting her figure and sending spicy feelings zinging around her belly and making her all too aware of the intimate place between her legs. “The color suits you.” He took her by the hand and twirled her for inspection. “Although I can’t imagine a color that doesn’t.”
“Jonquil. And primrose,” she said without thinking. “Evening primrose is slightly better, but in general, I try to avoid wearing anything yellow.”
And then both of them froze.
“You are remembering.” It was partly a statement and partly a question.
Tabetha stared at him but was focusing on where her answer had come from. When her search netted nothing more than fuzzy images and mostly empty voids, she grimaced and shrugged.
“It was a very specific answer,” he added.
She shrugged again and dismissed the notion that she didn’t want to remember who she was. What if she didn’t like the person she discovered? She slipped her hand from his and turned away, feeling uncomfortable with him for the first time.
“Tabetha.” He came up behind her. His arms snaked around her middle immediately, chasing the awkwardness away. She leaned into him and sighed, staring out the window.
“What’s wrong?” The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek.
She wished she knew!
“I’m scared.” She’d admitted this before, but her fears were changing.
He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin, his beard catching on her hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She wasn’t afraid of any person hurting her, not of ruffians, nor thugs, nor highwaymen—especially not when she was with Rock. It was silly, she knew. But the thing she feared was inside of herself.
And the possibility made no sense, but sometimes those hovering memories loomed as though they were warning her—warning her that learning the truth was going to change everything between her and Rock.
Which was foolish. He was herhusband.
She turned in his arms and lifted her mouth for a kiss.
His kisses provided her with more than romance, more than sensual pleasure, and even more than the promise of comfort.
Kissing him gave her a sense of belonging.
She gripped his arms, lifted onto her toes, and pressed her body closer to his.
Moments like this, she wished she could strangle Dr. Finch. She was perfectly well enough for her husband to make love to her.
“Rock,” she murmured against his lips. “I need you.”
“Six days,” he murmured against her lips, before he broke the kiss and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “I acquired a gig for us.”
