Page 72 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
“She said you told her I was a gullible girl.”
“I didn’t.” He touched her brow, trailing his finger over her scar. “She uses her tongue as a weapon. Ignore her.”
She gnawed at her lower lip before saying, “You might want to ignore her as well. I told her you told me she was a whore.”
“Oh, God.” He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. His wife had turned out to be a feisty wench. He so enjoyed her. He paused in his thinking. He did enjoy her, and not just here, in his bed. It was a startling realization.
“Do you still have feelings for her?” she asked, interrupting his musings.
Holding her gaze, he said, “No.” He traced his finger around her face. “We never had our wedding journey.”
She lifted a shoulder, shook her head.
“Let’s take some time to do it.”
She sat up, staring at him as though he’d gone insane. “What?”
“Let’s go away for a few days.”
“But what of Beth?”
“My mother could serve as her chaperone.”
“Your scandalous mother as a chaperone?”
He dragged his finger down the center of her chest, his knuckles grazing the underside of one breast. “Please, Claire. I want to be absolutely, completely alone with you.”
A warm and wonderful emotion he didn’t recognize but still appreciated washed over her face. “We could be ready to leave by noon.”
He owned a small stone residence that overlooked the sea. As Claire stood on the balcony of the master’s bedchamber, inhaled the salt air, and watched the white-capped waves kick up, she couldn’t help but feel this isolated spot was simply another example regarding what she didn’t know about her husband. She wanted to sit him down and demand that he tell her everything about himself. Everything. Yet she also couldn’t deny that there was pleasure in each discovery.
The stone cottage was maintained by a small staff. His manservant and her maid had accompanied them. But in the way of servants, they were discreet and noticeably absent. Which Claire acknowledged was the closest they’d come to being absolutely, completely alone.
She heard a noise, glanced back, and saw Westcliffe standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d divested himself of his jacket and waistcoat. The sea breeze ruffled his shirt, his hair. More strands than usual had escaped her own coiffure, and she imagined he would soon approach to begin tucking them back into place.
“What do you think of it?” he asked.
“I like it very much.”
He stepped forward to stand beside her and put his arm around her waist, drawing her near, tucking her beneath his arm. “I like to come out here and simply watch the ships sailing in the distance. I imagine where they are going, what adventures those on board might experience.”
“You would like to travel the world.”
“I would indeed. I very much might when I have an heir who can see to managing my affairs.”
Her stomach dipped as though a wave had taken it under. Speaking of an heir gave a permanence to matters.
Turning her slightly, he tucked strands of hair behind her ear—only to have the wind set them loose again. His lips curved up in a self-mocking grin. “You said you didn’t wish an end to our marriage, and we have taken matters too far for its end to come about easily or simply. I believe our course is set, and we must make the best of it.”
They were not the sweet words of undying devotion, but they were sweet nonetheless. He was not a man who gave easily of his heart. She was beginning to understand that. But he was the man with whom she wished to spend the remainder of her life. She had little doubt that in time he would say the words she longed to hear.
“I will not be able to stand it if you ever take another woman to your bed,” she stated honestly.
“Since I discovered you were in London, I’ve desired no one else.”
A burst of joy went through her. Even sweeter words.
“You should also know,” he continued, “that I’ve never shared this place with anyone else. But I wanted to share it with you because you are not like the others.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it, but you are simply not like the others.”
