She opened the trunk and found the white, silk gown and matching robe inside, carefully packed with a small note from Elspeth:“Enjoy it.”Genevieve disappeared behind the screen with it.
Unpinning her hat and doffing her gloves, Genevieve started unbuttoning her dress. She hadn’t worn a nightgown in twenty years. This one was beautiful, if filmy. The silk was thin enough that she could pull it through her wedding ring.
She stared at the ring that glinted on her ruined finger.
Once she had taken off her new gown and corset, she removed her shift and pulled the nightgown over her head. Belting on the robe, she emerged from the screen and said, “Did you really make this?” She held out her hand.
Asking about the ring had been a conscious decision to leave off the gloves. He had already seen the left hand. There was no point in hiding the right, with its missing three nails and a deep gouge in her thumb.
“Yes.” Kendrick had stripped to his shirtsleeves, his braces hanging loose from his trouser waist, and had removed his shoes and socks. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. She could see the line of his neck, and she remembered his comment about a wedding breakfast. She swallowed.
“Do you like it?”
He’s talking about the ring, Genevieve.“Yes.” Her gaze dropped back down to the braided gold. “You were planning on me sayingyeseven before we found Fletcher? That was when you made it, wasn’t it?”
“Planning, no. Just hoping. And I did make plain rings to give away.” He took her hand in his and chuckled. “After working in that heat, I felt like I had absorbed enough to be a great wyrm belching forth fire. It was enough to wish I could sweat again.”
“You’re no dragon,” she said. “A lion, maybe, but no dragon.”
He smiled. “Lion?”
She nodded as a wave of exhaustion washed over her. He steadied her when she swayed. “All golden mane and roar,” she murmured.
He ran his thumb over her cheek. “You’re tired. Come.”
“But what about—” she mumbled as he led her to the bed and pulled back the coverlet.
“It will keep, Genevieve. We have all the time in the world. You really have no patience, do you?”
That roused her enough that she frowned up into his face. “It isn’t about time. It’s about importance, and making sure important things are not forgotten.”
“I won’t forget,” he promised. “Go to sleep.”
“You need to sleep, too,” she said, sinking into the soft mattress.
“I was planning on it. Scoot over.”
The last thing she remembered was resting her head on his shoulder instead of the pillow. It felt…good. And she didn’t flinch.
As light appeared and strengthened around the edges of the curtains at the far end of the room, Kendrick listened to the sounds of the hotel and London at large waking to greet the day. Cabs ran to and fro, maids entered rooms to make the beds, guests prepared to check out or embark on their daily excursions. The rhythms of the city that they had no part in.
As he lay there, sometimes slumbering, sometimes waking, the weight on his arm was unfamiliar but welcome—because it was Genevieve. His wife.
He was married.
New experiences, after so long. He ran his fingers through Genevieve’s hair, the soft strands a lovely sensation on his fingers. Life can still surprise you, he told himself.There is still wonder to be found in the world.
Genevieve curled her face further against his shoulder. “Don’t,” she mumbled.
“Hmm?” He paused his motion.
“My hair,” she whispered, drugged with sleep. “Too short.”
“I think you look beautiful with short hair, sweetheart.”
One eye cracked open. “Really?”
“Yes. Your hair frames your face, and it’s soft. I like watching it move.” He ran his fingers through it again. “And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
