Page 33 of Temptress in Disguise
Her smile warmed the room. “Be in no doubt. I should very much like to kiss you again, but for now we should do as you suggested and sleep.”
He released her hands, found himself brushing the backs of his fingers across her porcelain cheek, unable to step away and break this indomitable bond.
What had this woman done to him?
How did she manage to hold him entranced?
Life was precarious. One’s fate could change in a heartbeat. He should be used to navigating uncertain ground, but even as they said good night and he lay still in the darkness, one thought plagued him.
Against the odds, he liked having Naomi as his wife.
* * *
Aramis woke to find himself alone in bed, the sheets girding his hips and covering his morning erection. The chamber door was ajar. The smell of coffee and toasted bread wafted upstairs to tease his nostrils. But his wife’s lingering scent caused him to inhale deeply and give a broad smile.
She’d wanted him last night.
Her passionate reaction proved promising.
Had she woken him before dressing, a kiss may have led to her straddling his hips and easing the throbbing tension. A wise man knew to keep his wits. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth had been a unique experience. What if he lost himself in her delectable body and accidentally sired a child? An innocent his enemies could use to defeat him. A helpless being treated like a pawn in a wicked game.
The thought was enough to make him throw back the sheets and suffer the cold. He washed and dressed quickly, set his mind to solving a murder, not the outlandish notion of making love to his wife. A man of his ilk did not indulge in sentimental nonsense.
“Good morning.” He strode into the sitting room, his armour in place, though as soon as he sat beside his wife at the table, stirrings of contentment threatened his steely resolve. “You should have woken me.”
“You were sleeping soundly and needed the rest.”
“Did I mutter strange things last night?” If he had, he was blissfully unaware, though her tired eyes said she had suffered disturbed sleep, too.
“You did, though the words were mostly incoherent.” She stared into her cup like a crone reading tea leaves, avoiding further discussion.
Mrs Maloney didn’t need an excuse to tell tales of herboys. “He used to keep them all awake,” she said, handing Aramis a plate of kippers slathered in herb butter. “You’d think he was fighting a heathen army, though he lay there, as unmovable as a stone effigy. I tried all sorts of remedies. None worked.”
Aramis patted the old woman’s hand, not as an apology for the trouble he’d caused in his youth but because she had prepared his favourite breakfast. “Christian said it’s worse since Jacob Adams held my arm over the brazier.”
“I curse that man to the devil.” Mrs Maloney made the sign of the cross. “I hope he’s rotting in hell.”
Naomi struggled to look at him and continued buttering her toast. “The latent mind is powerful. Perhaps once you’ve wrought vengeance on those who’ve hurt you, the nightmares may cease.”
Her odd reaction told him all he needed to know. She must have heard every word he’d uttered. Had she lain in the darkness, too scared to touch him, not knowing what to do?
Guilt weighed heavily in his chest. “It doesn’t happen every night,” he assured her. In a week or two, it wouldn’t matter. He’d be sleeping alone, with no thoughts of his estranged wife. “Tiredness is often the cause. I’m sorry if I kept you awake.”
Her faint smile failed to reach her eyes. “You didn’t. Since fleeing Hartford Hall, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to sleep. And it’s hard to relax when in a strange bed.”
Her choice of words raised his hackles and a host of important questions. Had she left Hartford Hall because her life was in danger? Did it have any bearing on her sister’s disappearance or why Lydia used the name Fontaine? Instinct said Naomi had a secret, a secret she’d failed to reveal when convincing him to marry her.
It was not a conversation to have in front of Mrs Maloney. Indeed, the lady watched them with marked interest and hadn’t stopped grinning since welcoming them into the bookshop last night.
“It won’t get any easier.” Mrs Maloney dropped a lump of sugar into her tea and stirred it slowly. “If I know Aaron, he’ll be pacing the halls like a god of war. He’ll not like the lack of control and will insist you reside at Fortune’s Den. At least while the murderer is at large.”
Mrs Maloney certainly had the measure of the man who’d almost bled to death on her bedchamber floor. Though when it came to family, Aaron’s bark was worse than his bite.
“Aaron prefers to reach his own conclusions.” No one told Aaron what to do. “Mrs Maloney is right. Be prepared to sleep above a gaming hell tonight.”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me.” The lady reached for another slice of toast to feed her healthy appetite. “Had you not agreed to marry me, I’d have nowhere safe to rest my head.”
Though they went on to discuss the plans for the day, her comment plagued his thoughts as he finished his breakfast.
