Chapter 11
Walker stepped quietly into the bedchamber, not surprised that Marguerite still lay asleep.
They’d had a very busy early morning until they had both collapsed from exhaustion, Walker allowing himself only a couple hours of sleep before arising to fetch them a late breakfast. He gestured for the young serving maid to carry in a tray loaded with tea, scones, wild blackberry jam, and butter, and set it upon the small table beside the bed.
He also gestured with his finger to his lips for her to be as quiet as possible, which she did other than the china teacups rattling just a little.Hewanted to wake Marguerite with a kiss…and not a lot of clatter. The serving maid bobbed him a curtsey and then hurried from the room, while Walker followed to shut the door behind her.
Then he moved closer to the bed, awash in sunlight from the chintz-curtained window. Marguerite lay on her side facing him with only her bare arm and shoulder above the quilt, her lustrous auburn hair tousled upon the pillow, her breathing soft and steady.
His beautiful bride. Who would have ever thought he’d see such a morning? Not him, certainly. The vast changes in his life were coming at such a rapid pace, yet he’d never felt more grateful in that moment for what fate had brought him.
A father.
A dukedom one day.
And most precious of all, a woman who endlessly amazed and fascinated him.
Damn, she could shoot! And how she’d met him measure for measure in bed earlier that morning had been the stuff of any man’s dreams.
Staring at the tantalizing curve of her breast, Walker felt a stirring in his loins that regrettably would have to wait for another time. He hated to wake her, but he wanted to resume their journey with plenty of daylight to make their way past that stretch of road where the highwaymen had attacked them.
In fact, he couldn’t wait to return to London, where he planned to announce their wedding to one and all, the consequences be damned!
Walker went around the bed and bent over Marguerite, savoring a few last moments to gaze upon his sleeping wife.
His sleeping beauty that he must awaken with a kiss.
He almost laughed at such a romantic sentiment, but Marguerite made him feel like he never had before. Emotion so deep that it seemed almost a physical pain. He hadn’t yet said he loved her, but he knew he did…completely and forever. And he would protect her with all the breath and strength he possessed—
“Dammit, man, just kiss your wife,” he murmured to himself, not surprised at how utterly she had bewitched him. He crooked his finger beneath her chin to gently turn her head. From the moment he’d first seen her that perilous night in Roscoff…
Walker pressed his lips to hers, knowing she had awakened when she reached up to tunnel her fingers in his hair. Then the sweetest, most contented sigh escaped her, Marguerite smiling against his mouth.
“Is it a habit of yours to talk to yourself, husband?”
He smiled, too, realizing that she must have been feigning sleep from the moment he entered the room. With her sharp instincts when it came to firing a pistol, it wouldn’t surprise him that she’d heard that rattling of teacups.
Walker pulled back to find her looking up at him with teasing in her eyes that shone more green than brown in the sunlight streaming across the bed.
“Only when I’m so captivated by my new wife.” He couldn’t resist, lowering his head to kiss her so thoroughly this time that he found himself coming very close to stripping off his clothes and rejoining her in bed. Yet all he had to do was think of the danger they’d encountered on the road to make him reluctantly lift his head.
“I’ve breakfast for us, Marguerite, and soon they’ll be bringing in a tub for you and hot water so you can bathe.” He straightened, groaning inside when she sat up and the quilt fell from her perfect upturned breasts.
Ah, God. With all the strength he possessed, he left her and went around the bed to where the serving maid had deposited the laden tray. He focused on pouring them both tea though he could hear Marguerite shifting in the bed to come closer. When he looked up, he saw that she’d wound the linen sheet around herself…though her disheveled beauty stopped his breath.
Cursing inwardly that they didn’t have more time, Walker decided then and there it would be best for him to leave the room though he’d intended to eat with her. He handed her a cup and saucer and then downed some tea himself and grabbed a scone.
“I’m going to see that all is ready with the carriage—”
