Page 104 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
Love… He sighed, as the emotion breathed through him, it was not only in his heart but in his blood. A powerful desire to be in Susan’s company. It was not just sexual, it was not lust. But he had enough responsibilities without the addition of a wife. In a year… In six months… When he was not so emotionally bruised and broken. He was not ready.
‘It is too late not to be ready,’ he told the bed’s canopy. ‘Ahhhhh.’The sound slipped from deep in his throat, as he remembered his father’s disappointed expression.
From tomorrow onwards, he must not be reckless or selfish. He must guide his brothers and sisters through their grief, and protect Susan from the consequences of his wanton haste.
She was here. Within yards. Three rooms away from his.
He would feel better if he went to her now. If she was in his arms, she would quieten these thoughts. The best hours of the day had been in her company, and the best of all when he had her hand to hold. Her hand had saved him from drowning in responsibility and grief.
Another sigh escaped into the darkness.
He would not go to her, because if they were caught it would make things more awkward for her and she had felt bad enough. If she could have run off to the library today to paint flowers she probably would have.
But tomorrow… From tomorrow she would be here with him, and he would have the comfort of her body and her hand to hold whenever he wished. It would not feel like suffocation, it would be heaven. This was just jitters. He decided he wanted to marry Susan when they were in London.
‘I am not afraid of marriage!’ He shouted his mind into silence. He needed to sleep.
Sunlight peeked through the cracks in the shutters.
Susan rolled onto her back.
She had been awake for ages, lying quietly in the Earl of Barrington’s guest bedchamber. The light crept about the room, revealing the pale greens of the furnishings and the gold braiding.
Her heart skipped through a country dance.
In her mind’s eye, there was the note her mother had written.
It would be best if you stayed with Robert and Jane. Alethea is very upset.
Susan turned onto her side and dampened the pillow with more tears.
Henry had replied on her behalf; she had not known what to say.
Her family had cast her aside, and she could not be angry, it was her fault.
In his reply, Henry told her parents about the wedding. They were to be married in York Minster at midday tomorrow. Fear twisting her stomach into a knot, she stared at the closed shutters, daylight seeped through the cracks as outside the sound of birdsong rose in a chorus. Today…
Would her parents ever forgive her? Would Alethea? Would they come today?
More tears flowed. She longed to hold Henry. No. To be held by him. He told her to be selfish and she was becoming selfish now she was discovering what it was like to be cared for with the same intensity that she cared for others. He had shown her that sometimes there were reasons to be selfish.
When he had gone to York she was lonely. Aunt Jane had been kind, wonderfully so, considering her grief, yet Uncle Robert had left them without speaking.
She had offended Henry’s family as well as hers, intruding on their mourning. She had not known what to say during dinner. Even Sarah and Christine had hardly spoken.
Today they had to attend a wedding – two days after burying William.
Yet, ‘Today,’ her new-found selfishness whispered, ‘I will be Henry’s wife. He will be mine, not Alethea’s.’
She would be married, and happy.
A letter arrived from Susan’s father during breakfast. She broke the seal with shaking fingers.
‘What does it say?’ Henry asked.
Her gaze raced across the words. ‘They are coming.’ She looked up and smiled at him.
‘Of course they are coming,’ his mother said.
