Point three. Upon discovering Teddy’s need for his medicine, and his simultaneous revulsion toward same, I made the command decision, for his own good, to maintain the ruse of our having previously married so that I might have some sway over him to convince him to take his regular doses.
Point four.
She stared at the paper, and willed herself to come up with an explanation for how she’d ended up engaging with Teddy as his wife in every sense of the word. Something other than her own fleshly desires overriding her good intentions and common sense.
“Hullo, darling.”
She glanced up to see Teddy, lounging in the doorway, hands gripping the two sides of a towel he’d slung over his shoulders. She’d been so wrapped up in her note taking, she hadn’t heard him come in.
His brown hair, which had developed a decided tawny cast thanksto his frequent ventures outdoors, was once again in need of a cut. It was damp from his recent dip in the ocean and slicked back and looked exactly right alongside the becoming bronzed complexion.
Wearing a lazy grin, and eyeing her in that way he had that said he was contemplating doing all sorts of naughty things with and to her, he fairly stole her breath.
“Good morning,” she said, in a rush. She closed the notebook with a decisive thump and blindly reached for the cloth to dry the nib of her quill.
“I was disappointed when I awoke to find you gone from our bed.” He sauntered toward her. “Then I remembered your early morning meeting with your special book club friends.”
“Yes, I arose, practically before the sun and decided to take a walk along the shore.”
“I see.” He veered toward the sofa where they’d made passionate love yesterday morning and her insides shimmered with longing. Before she made a conscious decision to do so, she rose and started toward him.
He sprawled atop the sofa, long legs stretched out before him, gaze drifting over her in a now-familiar, possessive manner. “May I say how becoming that particular shade of yellow is on you, my love?”
Her heart stuttered in her chest.My love.
Stop it.It was just a point of phrase. It probably didn’t mean what she wanted it to mean.
Probably.
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it. Er…Teddy, I wanted to talk with you about something rather delicate.”
“Oh?” He sat up, one thick brow arched, and peeled the towel from ’round his neck.
“Yes. Er…how did you sleep?” How did you sleep.Really, Georgina.
His caramel gaze lowered to his boot tips and a frown puckered his brows. “Funny you should ask.”
As she’d merely been hedging, his reply caught her off guard. She reached the sofa and lowered to perch on the cushions, careful to keep some distance between them, lest her ability to think straight vanish.
He folded the towel, eyes on his task. “I have had several dreams of late which…” he shook his head in dismissal, but went on, “which strike me as rather odd because…forget it. It does not signify. Tell me of your morning.”
“No, please. What were you going to say?”
He slanted her a long look. “I see places we’ve been, according to the anecdotes you’ve shared, but, things aren’t ever quite how I would have imagined. Of course, they’re just dreams. Not exactly memories.”
“Perhaps, if you gave me an example,” she suggested.
He unfolded from the sofa, towel gripped in his hand. “I should deliver this downstairs to the laundry,” he muttered, eyeing the open door.
She rose, hand outstretched toward him. “Give it to me. I’ll take care of it. What about these dreams seems off?”
He ceded the wet towel with obvious reluctance. “Darling, I don’t wish to upset you.”
“You won’t.”
“I have had several dreams in which my interaction with Lady Catherine seems, how can I put this?” He eyed the ceiling as if seeking inspiration, and Georgina’s stomach sank.
She had wanted to come clean with him, she reminded herself. This—he and Catherine—was part of that.
