Page 6 of The Earl Takes All
Glancing around, his gaze seeming to dart past the four-poster bed, he walked over to the window, looked out on the dark clouds gathering in the distance. It was a cold, dreary day but at least the rain had held off. “I’ve not had a chance to thank you for everything you did for... my brother. The service you arranged was lovely. You went to a great deal of bother to give him a nice send-off.”
Cautiously, she approached, stopping just shy of touching him. Quite honestly, he looked as though he could easily shatter. “I’m sorry more people didn’t come.” She’d been appalled that so few of the nobility had attended the service. If not for the servants whom she’d required to attend, the church would have been embarrassingly near empty. “I think with the distance and the storm threatening—”
“I think Edward wasn’t as well-liked as he thought.”
“We received many letters of condolence. I placed them in a black box and put it on your desk, so you can read them at your leisure. I think you’ll draw comfort from them.” He’d been too sorrow-filled, lost in his grief, to pay much attention to correspondence, so she’d seen to it for him.
“I’m certain I will.” He shifted his gaze to hers, and as always she found herself falling into the dark depths. “You’re very thoughtful.”
“You say that as though you’re surprised.”
He gave his head a quick shake and looked back out the window. “No, I just... I can’t seem to regain my footing with my brother gone.”
“You will.” She rubbed his upper arm. “You will. But speaking of footing, I must sit down. My feet are killing me.”
He swung around. “You’re in pain? Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s only my feet. They’ve begun swelling of late. I just need to put them up—Albert!”
He’d swept her up into his arms as though she weighed no more than a feather pillow, as though she wasn’t this ungainly creature. Then he was glancing around as though he didn’t know quite what to do with her now that he had her. Her heart was hammering, her fingers clutching his shoulders. He’d not carried her since their wedding night, and when he’d set her on the bed—
She warmed with the memories of their coming together as man and wife. Surely, they were not now on the verge of engaging in frenzied lovemaking.
In long, sure strides he headed to the bed and placed her on it as gently as though she were hand-blown glass. With a swiftness to his actions that she’d not seen since he left for his trip, he shoved pillows behind her back. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, but a chair would have sufficed.”
“Where’s your button hook?”
“Top left drawer of the dressing table, but if I remove my shoes I won’t be able to get them back on for dinner.”
“You can go barefoot. No.” He gave his head another shake, began walking away. “You’re not going to dinner. I’ll have a tray brought to you here.”
“I can’t ignore our guests.”
Coming to an abrupt halt at the foot of the bed, he glowered at her. “They’re not guests, they’re family. They’ll understand or they’ll damned well answer to me.”
She couldn’t stop herself from staring at this man, her husband, unable to recall a single time when he’d been so forceful. She couldn’t quite fathom why she found his behavior—him—so appealing at that moment. She’d always been attracted to him, but this was something more. He always deferred to Ashebury, for instance, had never stood up to him. Not that he’d had a reason to, but still.
Sighing, he plowed his hand through his hair before taking a step nearer and wrapping his long, thick fingers around the bedpost. “We don’t want to risk you losing the babe.”
Regretfully, she nodded. “I am rather weary. It’s been an exhausting few days. Still, I shall feel like such a terrible hostess.”
“I imagine they’ll enjoy having a bit of time to visit without my morose presence.”
His words startled her. “You’re not going to join them?”
“I’m not going to leave you here to dine alone after the trying day you’ve had, not when you’re experiencing discomfort that came about because of my brother’s actions.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Fine isn’t good enough.”
For a moment she thought he was blushing before he turned away.
“Let’s get those shoes off,” he said.
She watched as he strode to her dressing table, shrugging out of his jacket as he went and tossing it onto a nearby chair. With his jacket gone, she could see clearly that during his few months away, his shoulders had broadened and his skin had become bronzed by the harsh African sun. She was taken aback that at a time such as this, she should feel such a magnetic pull toward him. How selfish she’d been earlier to want his attentions when he was giving her far more now than she’d expected. She wanted things between them to be as though he’d never left, but she realized that the usual ease they experienced with each other might be slow in coming. However, she had to believe it would return.
