Normally Myles preferred sleeping in a chilly room; however, tonight a fire had been built in his sitting room, and he’d now spent more than half an hour doing little more than staring into the flames in the fireplace. His thoughts were on the future and what might be in store for them. Him and Anita.
Marriage would bring changes to his life, and he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that those changes were one of the reasons, actually the main reason, he’d put it off for so long. His hope had been to control those changes as much as possible, and although Anita wasn’t exactly what he’d expected, he was still convinced that their union would work.
It would take her time to become fully comfortable with the changes in her life. A single thought of how she’d been treated in the past was enough to raise his ire, and enough to make him vow that she would never suffer from such cruel actions again.
It was no surprise when both her maid and coachman had been interested in jobs at Redford rather than returning to Brunswick. He was glad about that, not just for the coachman and maid but for Anita. He liked knowing that she’d have familiar people around her. Marriage to her was a decision he’d made, and now that it had happened, he would do his best to see that it was as beneficial to her as it would be to him.
Brunswick wouldn’t be happy to lose two employees, just as he hadn’t been happy when Myles had refused to marry either of his daughters. It had been evident that Brunswick had heard about the amounts of money he’d paid to the families for breaking his previous engagements. That was why Brunswick had offered his daughters, hoping the engagements would be broken, and he too would receive a large sum of money. Brunswick hadn’t been happy when Myles had brought up the debt Brunswick owed him but had agreed to him marrying his niece when Myles had let the ultimatums be known. However, the man hadn’t told Anita that she had a choice in the matter, and that was still greatly irritating.
The click of a door opening echoed into the quiet room, interrupting his thoughts at the same time it made his heart beat a little faster. That had happened several times today. During times when he’d caught sight of his remarkably beautiful bride. The anticipation of that happening again was what cause the uptick now, and he stood, turned towards the doorway that led into his bedroom and eventually to the doorway to her room, which had been the door that he’d heard open.
Concerned, he quickly crossed the room. As much as he told himself that she wasn’t a wayward stray that he’d brought home—like he had done with a variety of animals in the past—he couldn’t help but think about how similar her situation was to those he’d rescued. She was wary of the situation and he didn’t want to make her uneasy or frightened that he would request more than she was ready to offer.
His feet stalled as she appeared in the doorway leading from his bedroom to the sitting room before he’d arrived at the doorway. His heart hit another uptick, and he had to swallow at the dryness that overtook his mouth. Her beauty shone through again. She’d changed out of the wedding gown and into a pale blue nightdress and matching overcoat with lacy sleeves and tied with a single thin blue ribbon beneath her breasts.
The sudden desire to be the one to untie that ribbon had him curling his fingers into his palms. A man should be attracted to his wife, but he had to admit, he hadn’t expected it to be this strong. Perhaps in time, but not this soon. They’d only met yesterday. He’d known other women for years and never felt a pull this strong. Not even with the two women he’d once considered marrying.
This time was different, and the anticipation drumming in his veins could simply be due to her beauty, for it truly was exceptional. Pushing his thoughts and desires to the recesses of his mind, he asked, ‘Is something amiss?’
Her face flushed as she shrugged. ‘I know what you said, about us taking time to get to know one another, and I understand that, but Claire seemed to believe that I needed to come in here, and I—well, I...’
‘Come,’ he said, finding his voice, for he should have realised her maid would have assumed that and how Anita would have been embarrassed to say differently. ‘Let’s sit by the fire.’
‘Thank you,’ she said as they crossed the room. ‘I won’t stay long, just long enough for Claire to put away my gown and things.’
He sucked in a heavy breath of air. For a moment, while he’d been once again admiring her beauty, he’d wondered if she’d come to his room because she’d wanted to. Instead, it was the first night of their marriage, and he’d put her in an uncomfortable position. The very thing he hadn’t wanted to do.
Suddenly felling unusually awkward because he had a lot to learn, he turned and gestured towards the two chairs closest to the fire. ‘I will enjoy the company.’ Once she was seated, he sat in the other chair and, feeling the need to become comfortable, used the toes of his opposite foot to remove his boots, one at a time, and then set them aside. He’d already removed his suit coat, vest and ascot. ‘Are you warm enough?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘I’m afraid the house can be draughty at times,’ he said.
‘It’s a lovely home,’ she said.
‘Thank you. It was built by my ancestor, the First Duke of Redford. I am the Seventh.’
She nodded. ‘Your mother shared that with me.’
Her hands were folded in her lap, but the white knuckles said that was to keep the trembles at bay. He didn’t want her to be nervous, skittish, around him, and leaned back in his chair as he let out a small chuckle. ‘Am I correct in thinking that she also gave you a tour of the entire house and pointed out all the portraits along the upper gallery?’
Anita nodded, with an even more wary expression. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. I am sorry that she bored you with such an activity.’
Shaking her head, she said, ‘It wasn’t boring at all. It was interesting to learn the family history.’
He chuckled again and lifted a brow while asking, ‘Did she show you the closet?’
Her brows knit together. ‘What closet?’
Pulling up a grin, he lowered his voice and leaned closer. ‘The one filled with skeletons.’
Wide-eyed, she leaned the opposite direction in order to put distance between them. ‘Skeletons?’
Teasing her might not be the most appropriate way to ease her fears, nor should he be taking pleasure in the teasing, but if it would allow her to relax, he’d continue as long as it took. Furthermore, it was helping him relax. ‘Yes. Every family has skeletons in a closet.’
She pinched her lips together and shook her head, as if amused but hiding it, before a smile broke out on her lips and she covered it with hand.
‘Did you think I meant real skeletons?’
‘I didn’t know what to think,’ she admitted after lowering her hand. She also let out a little giggle. ‘But I should have known you were jesting. No one would have a real skeleton in a closet.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he said, although he wasn’t overly sure about that. He’d met some people who he’d never want to learn what was in their closets, but this wasn’t the time to make a declaration like that. Shifting the conversation back to his family, he said, ‘Did my mother tell you that the third Duke of Redford was a thief?’
‘A thief? Heavens no.’
‘Actually, he was more of a pirate. A ship’s captain who sailed under the crown, confiscating illegitimate cargo from other ships. While doing so, he stole his bride. Right off a ship, brought her home and married her.’
Her eyes were again wide, but there held the shine of interest. ‘He did?’
‘Yes. They had five or six children, I can’t remember for sure, but years later, he stole a bride for his oldest son.’
Her smile was back and she appeared relaxed as she said, ‘He did not. You’re teasing again.’
‘No, I’m not. He truly did. My mother will confirm it.’ He waited a moment, watching her lips twitch as if they weren’t sure if they should be smiling, before he continued, ‘Of course, there is more to the story, but I don’t want to bore you.’
‘I won’t be bored,’ she said.
The shine in her eyes made him happy. She was not only interested; she was at ease. ‘Both of those women had been stolen from their homes, and my grandfather was who the crown sent to find who stole them and return them...’ He went on, explaining the entire story, including how his ancestor was practically the cream of the sailing world back then and how, besides actually rescuing the women, along with many others over the years, he’d recovered riches galore for more countries than just England. Though he didn’t tell her, this story was the reason he’d sought a wife rather than love. The third duke hadn’t married for love and had been very successful in having a family and business. So successful that he’d brought his son home a bride, again, where love wasn’t involved, and there, too, the fourth duke had been very successful in all his endeavours.
Myles was fully aware that he may have elaborated a bit in his storytelling, for Anita’s benefit. She was full of questions and so engaged in listening that she’d let her guard down. Her laughter twinkled in the air, and her eyes were sparkling as brightly as the flames licking the logs in the fireplace. He was enjoying answering all of her questions, and found himself making his way through the entire line of his ancestors, all the way to his father, before he caught her yawning.
Anita covered her mouth with one hand to hide a yawn that refused to be contained. She wasn’t bored in the least. She could listen to Myles talk about his family for ever and never grow bored. He had an amazing voice and was very skilled in storytelling. Some parts had been serious, other parts very humorous, and she’d enjoyed every word. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, lowering her hand as the yawn ended.
‘Forgive me for keeping you awake,’ he said. ‘It has grown late.’
She followed his gaze to the mantel clock above the fireplace and was surprised to see it was well past midnight.
‘Come.’ He rose and held out a hand to her. ‘It’s time for bed.’
A tiny shiver rippled through her, reigniting the nerves that had practically consumed her earlier. During the hours of talking with him, she’d forgotten her reason for being in his suite of rooms. She was only going to stay long enough for Claire to straighten up her room. The maid had been all aflutter in not keeping the Duke waiting, and Anita simply hadn’t wanted to tell Claire that Myles hadn’t been waiting on her. That he hadn’t expected her in his room tonight.
Whatever sleepiness that had befallen her, was gone now. Replaced with a nervousness that had her hands trembling all over again. More than just her hands. Her entire being was shaky as she laid her hand in his and rose to her feet. She certainly didn’t want him to think she’d come to his room expecting anything, yet couldn’t seem to find the wherewithal to voice that.
He wrapped her hand around his elbow and blew out the lamp on the table near his chair, leaving just the light from the fire that he’d added logs to several times to guide them as they began walking towards his bedroom.
She wasn’t sure what to do. He’d said she’d have time to get used to the idea. Surely, he didn’t believe that had happened during their conversation this evening, did he? Had it happened? Was she ready for this? She didn’t know. It was all so confusing. And exciting, she couldn’t deny that.
Or was he simply escorting her to her bedroom?
Two lamps were lit in his bedroom, one on each side of the massive bed. The covers had been folded back, and the flickering light from the flames of the lamps cast tiny shadows across the exposed white sheets and pillows. But it had been that way when she’d walked through it earlier.
She did her best to contain the sense of disappointment that washed over her as he continued to guide her past the bed and to the door that led to her room.
He opened the door, and upon spying the dark room, for Claire truly hadn’t expected anyone to sleep in the room tonight, he said, ‘I’ll light a lamp for you.’
She slowly released the sigh that was pressing to get out. ‘There’s no need.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, then, I’ll leave the door open until you’re in bed.’
‘Thank you.’ She stepped into her room, but his hold on her arm stopped her from a second step.
‘I regret keeping you up so late, but I sincerely enjoyed our evening together,’ he said.
The way he was looking at her made her heart beat like a drum. ‘I did, too,’ she admitted, while finding it difficult to breathe.
‘If the weather cooperates, I’ll show you the stables in the morning, perhaps we can take a ride around the property, and you can tell me more about your family.’
Added excitement over seeing the stables was mixed with sinking sensation over just how different his family was compared to hers. ‘I will enjoy seeing the stables and riding, but I believe you already know all there is to know about my family.’
He touched her chin, lifted it enough so their gazes met again and stared at her for so long that everything inside her grew warm. Then he leaned forward and pressed a small kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes closed at an amazing sensation that spread well beyond where his lips touched. Something warm and enticing swirled inside her from head to toe.
‘Goodnight, Anita,’ he said softly.
Upon realising that his lips were no longer touching her forehead and that his hand was no longer holding her elbow, she snapped her eyes open. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, then hurried into her room, straight to her bed.
It wasn’t until she was in the bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, that she realised she’d never taken off the lacy robe that matched the blue linen nightdress that Claire had provided for her to wear. She still had her socks on, too.
The door closed with a click, dowsing the room in darkness, and she let out a long sigh.
Confusion washed over her.
There must be something wrong with her—besides her obvious physical conditions—because she was disappointed to be lying in her own bed, alone, on her wedding night. Yet, at the same time, she was very grateful to have married a man who was so understanding. No one had ever treated her so kindly and she was thankful for that.
Would that be enough to make a lasting marriage? They were married, and there was no changing that. She’d chosen to marry him and knew love wasn’t a part of it, so what was this feeling of longing inside her? She’d lived practically her entire life without love and had accepted it would always be that way.
Or was it him that she was worried about not having love? He’d known love his entire life, from his family, and therefore didn’t need more. Not from her. Not from a wife.
Maybe this longing inside her wasn’t love. Maybe it was the womanly desires she’d read about in novels. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself to go to sleep. To stop thinking about him and their marriage and just go to sleep!
She tried hard, but it was hours before that finally happened.
It was that way at the end of each day that followed. She’d tell herself to stop thinking about Myles and their marriage and just go to sleep, and it grew more difficult night after night as she went to bed in her own room, alone and listening for any sounds of Myles climbing into his own bed on the other side of the door.
She couldn’t help but wonder if this is what their marriage would always be like. Perhaps that was what he wanted? But they would have to sleep together at some point in order for her to provide him with an heir, and those thoughts were what kept her up at night. The more she got to know about him, the more she liked him and things about him. She liked how he held her hand and touched her shoulder, waist or the small of her back. She liked touching him, too, and even though the new shoes were wonderful, she held on to his arm whenever they walked side by side. All of that filled her with warm and wonderful sensations that made her think more and more about having his children. She grew more and more curious about that act, and other things. Like kissing. Besides kissing at their wedding, he’d kissed her cheeks and forehead, and like touching him, that all made her want more. Did that make her a wanton? Or should wives feel that way about their husbands? It was all so confusing, because everything else about her life had become so wonderful.
The morning after their wedding night, he’d taken her to the stables, where she’d chosen a pale grey mare named Starla to ride while he’d taken her on a tour of the property. He owned a vast amount of land but had only shown her a small portion of it, mainly the pasture and stable areas closest the manor house, claiming they’d wait until it was warmer for longer rides.
She looked forward to that, because along with her wondering mind, she was finding herself restless while Myles was in the stables or working in the library. It had only been a week since their wedding, and though she would never complain about now having a lavish lifestyle that so many would wish to have, there was very little for her to do. The multitude of tasks that Mary had claimed would keep her busy took mere minutes to complete, because it mainly meant a single morning meeting with the head kitchen and household staff members. The employees were so competent, they merely needed her approval, not her help.
There had been a few additional things to keep her busy the first couple of days, when she had spent hours penning thank-you notes to wedding guests and meeting with a seamstress from the village who had been hired to provide her with a new wardrobe. Mr Wainwright had been out twice, once to deliver another pair of slippers and more socks, another time to deliver a pair of leather boots that were not only comfortable; they were lovely and shaped in a way that they didn’t look distorted, like her old boots.
The new boots made her steps more even and, like the slippers, relieved the discomfort in her hip. The boots were also warm, and every step she took made her think about Myles. How much he’d already done for her. That added to her frustration. There was so little for her to do for him in exchange. She wanted to do things for him, wanted him to know how much she appreciated him.
To fill in her empty time and not wanting her leg to grow stiff from too much sitting, she took to walking with Roscoe each day. The dog, like all animals, was non-judgemental and very good company. Walking with Roscoe helped her not think about other things, including her family. Knowing Uncle Jerome had wanted Myles to marry one of her cousins and not her was weighing on her mind, too. Uncle Jerome was never satisfied, and she feared that he wasn’t done attempting to rule her life.
During her walks, she had met all the barn animals, including the peacocks, who roamed the yard at their pleasure. Two of them often followed along behind her and Roscoe, mainly because she often dropped breadcrumbs in their wake for the birds to eat.
The birds were huge, and the males were particularly gorgeous, even without fanning their tail feathers, and they could make several sounds. All loud. Startlingly loud, but their antics also made her laugh, and that made Roscoe bark.
All of that was currently happening—the birds were letting out high pitched squealing sounds and fanning out their feathers, she was laughing and Roscoe was barking—which explained why she didn’t realise Myles was approaching until Roscoe ran around her, and she spun about to see why.
She bit down on her bottom lip at how her heart did another one of those little flips. One would think that after a week of seeing him numerous times every day, it would stop doing those silly somersaults. Then again, that could be exactly why those flips had become bigger. When she wasn’t worrying about Uncle Jerome, she was thinking about Myles. Naturally. That was what she kept telling herself. They were married, and naturally she would want to know all there was to know about him. That she would naturally wonder if he would ever kiss her again, ever want her to sleep in his bed and if she’d ever giggle and blush and swoon like the women in the books she’d read.
‘I apologise for interrupting your stroll,’ he said, walking closer. ‘I have something I think that you’d like to see.’
‘Oh?’ The smile on his face was leaving her breathless, making it impossible to say more, and as usual, she was having a hard time not staring at him. Simply stare and wonder.
‘Yes. In the foaling stable. It’s not far.’ The smile on his face faded slightly. ‘Unless you’re tired. It can wait.’
She was not tired, and even if she was, she wouldn’t disappoint him. ‘No, it can’t wait.’ Stepping forward, she took a hold of his arm. ‘You have me too curious to know what it is.’
His smile returned fully. ‘Would you like a hint?’ he asked as they began walking.
The other thing that happened when he was near was an uncanny sense of excitement that washed over her from head to toe. She enjoyed his company so very much but tried not to let that show because he was busy, had other things to do. ‘Yes, please.’
‘There are more than one.’
‘More than one?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s not a very good hint.’
‘Oh? What would be a good hint?’
‘Something more specific.’
‘Something more specific might give it away, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.’
‘It doesn’t have to be that specific, but it has to relate to what it is.’
‘My hint relates to what it is. There are more than one.’ With an even brighter shine in his eyes, he added, ‘There are six. Actually, seven.’
‘Seven?’ She looked up at him and shook her head. ‘That’s still not specific enough for me to guess. There could be seven of anything.’
‘True.’ With a nod, he said, ‘Here’s another hint. One is big and six are small.’
Such a simple conversation shouldn’t make her this happy, but it did. He did. In order to keep a giggle hidden, she sighed. ‘You are not very good at this.’
‘Oh? Are you an expert at giving hints?’
She wasn’t an expert at anything and had never had anyone give her hints. What she knew about surprises—good ones—and hints she had read in books. ‘No, and I don’t think you are, either.’
He pressed a hand to his chest and let out a fake moan. ‘Oh, you injure me.’
She knew he was teasing, and that too was something she’d never had, nor had she ever had the opportunity to tease in return, which also meant that she wasn’t very good at it. ‘Don’t be too injured. It’s hard to give perfect hints, and you are an expert in many other things.’
‘I am? Such as?’
‘Well...’ Being wonderful and handsome came to mind, but she couldn’t say either of those.
He chuckled.
Glancing at the stable now only a couple of steps away, she said, ‘Horses! You are an expert on horses.’
‘I’m glad something came to mind,’ he said. ‘For a moment I thought you were unable to think of anything.’
‘No, there are lots of things, I just...’ She couldn’t say that she couldn’t tell him about what she’d been thinking about, what she thought about all the time, because she had to be careful to not want more than he’d agreed to. That was something else she thought about often, how it was her job to make sure he had time to complete his duties.
‘Just?’ he prompted.
‘I was just thinking about what there are seven of,’ she said. Which is what she should have been thinking about. ‘One large and six small.’
He laughed harder. ‘Sure, you were.’ Stopping to open the stable door for her, he gestured to Roscoe. ‘You stay out here.’ Then he pointed at the peacocks that were only a few steps behind them. ‘The rest of you, too.’
The birds squawked and Roscoe barked, but none attempted to follow them into the stable. Anita drew in a deep breath and released it with a satisfied sigh that was loud enough for Myles to glance her way. She didn’t attempt to hide her smile. She loved the smell of hay and horseflesh and wasn’t ashamed of that.
He grinned. ‘This way.’
They walked past the spacious stalls, slowly enough that she had the opportunity to give each horse a single pet on their elongated faces. Besides the long rows of stalls, there was a separate walled-off area with larger stalls for when it came time for the mares to give birth, and there was a large loft overhead filled with hay for the winter months. She knew this stable, and the horses in it, better than the other buildings because it was not only the one closest to the house; it was filled with the mares who would give birth come spring. Being in the stable back at Brunswick with her father with newborn foals was one of the memories she’d tucked deep inside, and entering this stable brought the happiness of that memory to the fore front.
‘Your affection for animals has become very clear,’ Myles said as he led her into the large tack room. ‘And I thought you’d like to see the newest ones.’
Anita drew in an excited breath so quickly she pressed a hand to her breastbone. ‘Newest ones?’
‘Yes.’ He gestured towards a small wooden crate in the corner.
She couldn’t contain her excitement and rushed forward, then sighed at the sight of a mother tabby cat and six tiny kittens. She knelt down next to the crate that held a nice bed of hay for the new mother and her babies, and instantly knew who had fixed the crate for the animals and placed it in here. Myles had a heart of gold when it came to animals. A niggling thought that she’d had more than once flashed in her mind. Was she like a stray animal to him? One he’d brought home to care for and nurture? She didn’t want to be. Rather than being disappointed that there was too little for her to do, she needed to find things to do. Things for him, so he could focus on his duties. Perhaps even the duty of having an heir. A new bout of determination filled her and she smiled up at him. ‘They are adorable.’
‘I found them in the hayloft,’ he said, crouching down beside her. ‘And moved them down here so they wouldn’t fall over the edge once they start walking.’
‘That certainly could have happened,’ she said. Besides the numerous stories she’d heard about him rescuing animals, she’d witnessed his kindness towards them.
Reaching down, she gave the mother cat a gentle pet. ‘I think I had a kitten when I was little.’
‘You think?’
She nodded. ‘I don’t remember much before my parents died, but sometimes I get a feeling of things that might have happened.’
‘You were very young,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember things from when I was that small, even though my mother insists that they happened.’
They were still both kneeling beside the box of kittens, and she twisted so they were face to face and smiled at him. ‘Like when you sneaked your pony into the house?’ Mary had shared a story one night at the evening meal of how he’d led the horse into the house and had been caught attempting to convince the pony to climb the stairs up to his bedroom.
He laughed. ‘I clearly remember that pony, but I don’t remember bringing her into the house.’
She had laughed over that story, and her throat thickened a bit at not having more of her own happy memories.
Just as she was about to look away, he caught her chin, forcing her to continue looking at him. ‘I’m sorry that you didn’t have someone to remind you of memories,’ he said softly. ‘You should have had that. Should have had so much more than you did.’ He released her chin and brushed aside a piece of hair hanging along the side of her face. ‘From now on, I’ll be here to remind you of wonderful memories.’
She had to swallow down a lump in her throat, because the warmth that was spreading in her heart wasn’t from memories. He filled her with a breathless wonder like nothing ever had.
His knuckle trailed along the side of her cheek, ending beneath her chin again. The touch and the way he was looking at her stole any thoughts that might have formed, other than how perfectly his brows arched over his eyes that were so dark brown, they reflected the sunlight shining in through the window. Even his nose was perfect, and his lips.
Her heart thudded again as she recalled the soft kiss that he’d given her on their wedding day. Whether it was to cherish the memory or to keep her thoughts hidden, she wasn’t sure, but she closed her eyes.
A moment later, when his lips brushed against hers, she gasped at the unexpected touch and snapped her eyes open.
He pulled his face back. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘You didn’t.’ She shook her head, because that was clearly a lie. ‘I mean it was, I was...’ Flustered by not knowing what to say, she sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’
His hand slipped away from her chin. ‘I understand.’