Page 142 of The Lyon Whisperer
“No doubt.”
She sent him a chilly smile. “That gives you more time to wait on my tight-fisted father to release my dowry, does it not?”
He frowned and looked out his own window. “It is not for you to worry over, Amelia,” he said in a low voice.
“How silly of me. Of course not.”
He crooked a finger under her chin and guided her face toward him.
She met his searching stare with her own unblinking gaze.
“You are my wife. I will take care of you.”
His wife by the luck of the draw.
She should confront him now. Perhaps Millicent had gotten some of her information wrong. She had come by everything through gossip and conjecture, after all.
But what if she had everything exactly right?
An unbearable ache welled up inside her. She could not hope to get the words out without dissolving into a puddle at his feet. That she would not do. Tomorrow was soon enough to discuss all the sordid details.
He traced her cheek with his fingertips, and lowered his head, clearly intent on kissing her.
As always, everything in her went weak with desire. At the last moment, she turned her head, and his lips grazed her cheek.
“I am very tired, my lord. I wish to close my eyes until we reach Warren House.”
“Of course,” he murmured, clearly confused by her rebuff. Still, by some miracle he accepted her lame explanation.
She huddled in the corner, pressing herself as far from him as she could in the confined space. She stared out the window, seeing nothing but black shapes under a moonless sky, feeling more alone and miserable than she ever had.
She must havedozed, because Chase awoke her to tell her they’d arrived.
She allowed him to hand her down from the carriage then started up the front steps.
He kept pace beside her.
When she would have turned for the kitchens, he stayed her with a hand to the small of her back. “You’re exhausted. I’ll check on the dogs. You go up,” he said.
Without a word, she turned for the stairs.
“I’ll wait for your maid to leave before joining you.”
Not glancing back for fear of what he’d see in her eyes, she forced out the bitter words of denial before her weakness for the man could overrule her sense. “Not tonight, Chase. I have a…headache. I should like to sleep alone if you do not mind.” They had not slept apart since they first shared a bed overnight.
She waited, barely able to draw a breath over the pain in her chest.
“Are you unwell? Should I…what can I do?”
The concern in his voice tore at her insides. “I just need sleep.”
“Very well. Good night, Amelia. Sweet dreams.”
Chase lay inthe big, empty bed, arms folded beneath his head, and stared blindly up at the ceiling. He’d given up trying to sleep as a pointless endeavor as it had evaded him for the last hour, maybe longer.
In the connecting room, Amelia slept. He knew because he’d listened for signs of movement and heard dead silence. That made sense.
She was tired. She had a headache, and wanted a night’s rest apart from her husband who likely took up too much space in the bed.
