Then she angled her face deeper into his chest, hiding from the light. The rose scent returned.
“You’re not sleeping. You’re thinking too much.” Her voice was crisp, no yawn, not sounding tired.
He adjusted the pillow under his head. “Well, I must be changing. Suddenly I don’t want to be a lazybones and lounge in bed. I should be up, getting notes ready for the traps I’ve planned.”
Her pinkie dragged upon his chest, forming a slow heart. “You still hate mornings? That I remember. Me, too. But I can’t sleep, either.”
“Then we should not fight this. We should get up and start the day. Good plan, Lady Wycliff.”
“You sure that’s the right name?”
“Quite sure. Neither of us has eaten. Maybe we should go downstairs and see what is in the kitchen? I remember you having a healthy appetite.”
Ruth sat up, drew her knees to her, but stayed close. “No, I don’t want to leave this room and traipse in the darkness and shadows of Blaren House.”
There was a look in her soulful brown eyes that made his heart beat fast. It could be the entire percussion section for the theater pit. “No oysters? Or beefsteak? Teacakes?”
“Just you.”
She leaned down and kissed him, boldly, forcing him to confront his hunger for her.
The press of her body against his was undeniable.
She was perfect and beautiful.
Sleep would soon be an excruciating thing.
“You’re my weakness, Ruth, but you need to slow down.”
He put his hands upon her shoulders. “Platonic marriage. Taking time. Me becoming a eunuch. I thought we discussed that.”
“I think that applies to new marriages. We’re an old married couple of four years. And you knew me before. And I am with you in my head between the nightmares. I need you, always.”
Her grin was different, her mouth ever delicious. The taste for her on his tongue was fresh. “Ruthy, no beefsteak? I know there’s some in the larder. I’ve never lost my hunger…”
The way she looked at him. That stole all the words from his sore throat.
The feel of her lips on his scars—heaven. “You are making this hard, Ruth.”
“Then surrender. Take me in love as far as we can go. I want you in my head. I need your love to be louder than the darkness. Don’t turn me away.”
The hardest thing to do was to say no, to deny how he longed for her.
Ruth, his wife, his weakness.
To deny her was to deny his life.
He stopped fighting the logic of waiting—waiting untilheknew she was ready, waiting untilhisenemies were vanquished, waiting for everything to be perfect. Heaven and hell could be an hour apart.
His wife knew her mind. She wanted love to vanquish her enemy, and he trusted her.
“I want my husband to know me as I am supposed to be. Tend to me with gentleness and care.”
“And with love, Ruthy, always love.”
She took his hands and put them to her shoulders.
Wycliff’s fingers tangled in her loosed curls. He angled his face up to hers.
