It was all his fault, of course, that she couldn’t sleep. Not only was he not there, and he should very much be there since he’d married her, but he’d set into motion all these thoughts by saying what he had last night. Dear heavens, was it just last night?
I want to see your breasts.
Oh. He had said nothing about touching her. Those had been her thoughts alone. Now, that wouldn’t do.
She sat up again, punched her pillow once more, then flounced back on the bed, drawing the sheets up to her chin. She closed her eyes, determined to fall asleep and dream of pleasant things, and not of Douglas Eston.
Chapter 10
Sarah was awakened by a warm breath on her eyelids. In her dream, she was being cuddled by a fox, his tail whisking back and forth over her face. She drew back, blinked open her eyes reluctantly, and realized that she was face-to-face with her husband.
Douglas smiled at her, his expression clearly visible by the lamp he’d lit. The wick was trimmed low, so the glow was barely visible beyond the bed, but she could see him quite clearly.
Her eyes widened, and her breathing quickened. Her heart was beating so rapidly in her chest that it felt like a trapped bird.
“You’ve returned,” she said, gathering up the sheets in front of her. They were no protection at all, but the barrier made her feel marginally better.
“I have.”
How utterly polite they were being, especially since she didn’t feel the least bit amiable toward him at the moment.
“Where did you go?”
“I was unpacking my crates,” he said.
She frowned at him. “Why?”
“To make sure my equipment was undamaged.”
Of all the things he could have said, that was the one guaranteed to render her silent. She had thought that he might have gone to see her father, to complain about her behavior, perhaps. Or to see an old love.
“You were unpacking your equipment,” she said softly. Repeating it aloud didn’t make any more sense.
“If you’ll recall,” he said, smiling, “it’s the reason for our marriage. Your father expects me to fulfill my part of the bargain.”
“You might have told me,” she said.
“Were you worried? I should have told you not to worry.”
“Do you have the power to command emotions?” she asked. “If I had wished to worry, I would have, and I doubt anything you might say to the contrary would have stopped me from doing so.”
“Did you?”
“I did not,” she said. “In fact, I barely noticed you were gone.”
And she wouldn’t notice that he was here now, except for the fact that he had rolled off the bed and was beginning to remove his clothes.
With his eyes still on her, he slowly unfastened the row of buttons on his shirt. She looked away, down at the floor, across the bed, before returning her gaze to him.
Was it considered proper for a wife to watch her husband disrobe? She didn’t think so, but despite herself, her gaze returned to him again and again.
He was a well-made man. Quite a spectacular specimen of manhood, as a matter of fact. A statue of a young man in the Greek Garden was equally as fine, but after her mentally comparing the two, Douglas was the clear winner. Perhaps it was because he was human,and the statue was only marble. More likely it was because God’s handiwork was superior to anything that man could attempt to render.
There, she’d managed to think of God, and in doing so she had turned her thoughts from a naked man.
“I won’t undress in front of you if it disturbs you,” he said softly.
“I think you do so to put me at a disadvantage, Mr. Eston.”
