“Probably not, at least, not all the time!” He pulled her closer. “Blankets are softer than boards.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as she began sliding toward sleep. “For accepting my weaknesses, and for your patience and willingness to try.”
“You aren’t weak,ma chérie.I think you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known,” he said softly. “You survived a sad marriage to a man who didn’t deserve you. You survived pirate capture and years as a harem slave. You have the strength of endurance and the ability to change and grow. Since you have decided to do your best to make our marriage work in a way that suits us, I feel hopeful. We both want this. With commitment and intelligence, surely we will succeed.”
“I hope so,” she said intensely. “I think you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’d be a fool to let you go without a fight.”
“I’m flattered.” He brushed his hand over her head. “Now rest. We both need it.”
She exhaled slowly. Disaster had been averted, but now she must find a way to move beyond the horrors that had crippled her for so long. She owed it to Simon; she owed it to herself.
But tonight, exhausted, she slept.
Chapter 13
Simon awoke feeling much as he did after a battle: battered, drained, and grateful to be alive. He opened his eyes to study Suzanne’s face, which was sculpted by the dawn light. There were blotches around her eyes, marks of her previous night’s despair.
Yet here she was in his arms and both of them had slept. Granted, there were half a dozen layers of quilt, counterpane, blankets, sheets, and nightclothes between them, but this was infinitely preferable to sleeping alone.
The layers were fortunate because he’d awoken with an erection. Back in the days when he’d been normal, that had been a regular phenomenon. Over time, it had become rarer and rarer and eventually he realized that passion was only a distant memory. He’d thought that state of affairs was permanent, and hadn’t much cared.
Then he met Suzanne again. Looking back, he recognized that his compelling wish to marry her had been the first indication that he was coming alive again. He was intensely grateful despite the complications desire was causing.
As he looked back on his life, he suspected that he did not have the right temperament to be a soldier, but circumstances had pushed him into that role. He’d done what was needed and been damned good at it, but he was glad now that he’d be leaving the army behind.
Suzanne stirred in his arms and raised a hand to stroke his face. “Good, we’re in the same bed. I didn’t dream last night.” She tilted her head and gave him a smile that lit up the room. “I’m glad you haven’t washed your hands of me.”
“I never will.” After a moment, he added, “As I said, you hold the power between us, but I’m unable to read your mind. If I do anything you dislike, you must tell me.”
“Why are you granting me all the power?” she asked seriously.
“How else will you feel safe?”
She bit her lip. “You’re perceptive. Yet it’s uncomfortable to feel that I am in control of our marriage. Part of me likes the idea, but you are a seasoned soldier. You are used to action and command. Surely you will eventually resent deferring to me.”
He hesitated before replying. “I suspect you’re right. But I don’t want you to ever fear being honest with me, or be afraid of what I might do.”
“I don’t want that either,” she agreed. “I’ve spent too much of my life between walking on eggshells and being actively terrified. Better for us and our future would be to share the power. I will tell you when you are being annoying, and you will tell me the same when needed.”
“You’re never annoying,” he protested.
She chuckled. “Up to this point, you’ve been honest with me, but that remark is worrisome. It suggests a lack of reason on your part.”
He laughed, surprised at how buoyant he felt. “Very well, I’ll modify my words to say that you haven’t been annoying yet, but if you are, I’ll mention it.”
“That’s fair.” She sat up and the quilt fell from around her shoulders.
He was acutely aware of the shifting movements of her lovely breasts under her nightgown. But it was now daytime and he invoked his self-control. “We should probably sleep in your bed. That way I’ll be the one who has to get up and freeze my feet on the way back to my bedroom in the morning.”
“As you wish, milord.” She slipped from the bed and immediately donned her sheepskin slippers as protection from the cold floor. “What shall we do today?”
“We’ll get dressed and have a fine, leisurely breakfast. We’ll take a ride.” He grinned. “And this afternoon, I’ll start teaching you how to be dangerous.”
She looked bemused. “We’re having an unusual honeymoon, aren’t we? The traditional ‘moon of honey’ is a time of discovery as two people explore each other’s bodies. We aren’t really doing that.”
“We’re doing as much of that as is feasible for the two of us. But beyond passion, I think a honeymoon is a time for two people to give each other their full attention,” he said thoughtfully. “We’re doing that and exploring each other’s minds and spirits, which is even more important.”
“Giving each other our full attention?” She smiled wryly. “So we are, but this means I received less than my due on my first honeymoon. Jean-Louis was perfectly willing to initiate me into the mysteries of womanhood, as he delicately called it, but outside the bed, he spent little time with me even on our honeymoon. He was always off hunting and drinking and playing cards with his male friends.”
