“What do you want, Louisa?” He spoke so softly she barely heard him. “Tell me.”
Tell him? Tell him what exactly? That she didn’t understand why they were sleeping in different rooms? That she didn’t know how to play whatever game it was he insisted on playing? Or perhaps she should she tell him what she wanted, but even now, standing in front of her husband, she couldn’t put it into words.
She wanted him to read her mind. To do all the things she was only brave enough to imagine, but too cowardly to say out loud. But as the seconds passed, Rhys pulled away and she did not stop him.
“Why? Why do I have to say it out loud?”
“I think the better question is, why can’t you say it out loud?”
“Because I’m embarrassed,” she said breathlessly as she looked down. “I don’t know what I want.”
But his curled fingers came up beneath her chin and tilted her head back.
“What was that?”
She exhaled and stared directly into his dark eyes.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Then there’s no sense in doing anything until you do.”
She shook her head.
“But isn’t that frustrating? I mean, on your part?”
“No. I’m a patient man, Louisa. I’m not in any particular rush.”
Well, that was wonderful for him, she thought, as he turned to return to his work. But she was sure that there was something missing between them and it wouldn’t be long before she made an absolute fool of herself in front of him.
Oh, how she wished she were brave enough to do so now.
Chapter Seven
Rhys wiped thesweat from his brow as rays of sunlight gleamed through the trees that edged his fields in the distance. There was no helping it. He needed to be out of bed and working before the sun came up or he was useless. That, and there was little reason to stay in bed when he was wide awake, staring at the wall that separated him from his wife.
His wife… it had been three weeks since their arrival to Fenwick Park and while he had managed to keep his distance from Louisa by throwing himself into his work, it was becoming harder every hour to do so.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to her. On the contrary, his body had a visceral reaction whenever she entered a room. But with the contentious start of their marriage, mixed with an unwitting desire to surpass Louisa’s former beau, Rhys was struggling to be someone he was not.
A refined gentleman.
For who could claim to be so, when every thought he had about his wife was carnal? After all, he had nearly taken her in the barn only days ago and it had taken all his strength not to take the lead with Louisa. He wanted to, God, how he wantedto, but theirs was not a normal union and he was determined to allow it to play out on her terms.
He wanted to be like her John. Gentle and kind, refined and serene. Louisa’s eyes had become watery during her description of her former friend, and it had set Rhys’s teeth on edge. She was still so affected by the man’s memory that Rhys hardly believed that there was any room for him in her heart. Not that he wanted her to love him or anything so preposterous. He just wanted to be held in a similar regard.
He had first realized the weight of her affection during the carriage ride to Fenwick Park. But it seemed that the memory of John was never far away. For instance, just last week when she had tasked herself with removing all the books from the library to keep them safe from renovations, she had asked his opinion on what type of wood should be used to replace the water damaged bookshelves.
“Oak, I would assume,” he had mused quietly as he used a hooked iron pole to rip down the rotting pieces of wood. “A solid, strong English oak would do nicely.” When he finished pulling away all the debris, he spotted her across the room, peering intently at several books.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Rhys placed the iron bar on the floor, startling Louisa into turning around, only to reveal pale cheeks and watery eyes. He was beside her in an instant.
“Louisa?” He had tried, but she shook her head immediately.
“Forgive me. It’s just… You have a copy ofPamelaby Samuel Richardson.”
Rhys blinked.
“And?”
