She stretched her arms over her head, noting that William’s eyes followed her every movement. “Thank you. You are kinder to me than I deserve.”
He gave her an odd look. “Not at all. I regret that I cannot give you anything close to what you deserve in the present circumstances.”
She sat up, tugging her shift into place. “You have taken excellent care of me.”
“But you deserve to be back at Pemberley with a doctor to monitor your return to health and servants to care for you. Not being dragged across France during a war—and without any memory to boot.”
“None of the circumstances are your fault.”
William strolled to the window without a word. Why did the subject disturb him so? Did he feel some guilt about her presence in France? Perhaps something he had done or said precipitated her trip to Jersey. Perhaps they had a row before she departed. But she had been visiting an old friend… The endless mysteries were beginning to wear on her.
With his eyes focused on the street below, he told her of his successful efforts to hire a horse. “Captain Moreau’s friend has given us papers naming me as Maurice Thibeaux, silk merchant, which would give me reason to enter Gravelines. You will be my wife, of course.”
“But will they not expect us to have silk to sell?”
William gave her a brief smile. “Indeed, which is why I also purchased a dozen bolts of silk to transport in the back of the wagon. They are quite fine quality. It is a shame we cannot take one with us.”
He seemed confident about their plan, yet he kept his eyes averted from her. And why did he remain on the far side of the room?
“It sounds like a good plan,” she complimented him.
He did not respond, and the room fell silent.
When she was not focusing on the future, Elizabeth’s thoughts turned inevitably to the past—and everything she did not know about it. “When you left England, was everyone in my family in good health?”
“Yes, they all enjoyed excellent health.”
“Are all of my sisters living at home? Are any married?”
“None are yet wed, and they all remain at Longbourn with your parents.” Although his answers were reassuring, he spoke with a terseness that suggested he would rather avoid the subject. Perhaps he did dislike her family.
Other questions about her family crowded her mind, but few were on subjects he would be familiar with. Once again the conversation faltered. William continued to peer out of the window. Perhaps he cannot bear to look upon me.
Finally, Elizabeth could contain herself no longer. “Why are you avoiding me?” she asked plaintively.
His head whipped around, and he regarded her with horrified eyes. “I-I-I—I am not—Well, look at yourself!” He gestured toward her shift.
Glancing down, Elizabeth saw that the semi-transparent fabric hid little of her body and clung to her curves. But he was her husband! Did the sight of her body horrify him so? Tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep them at bay.
“You no longer find me attractive?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
William gaped at her, and his face paled. “Why would you think—? No! You are so lovely it makes my heart ache just to regard you. I cannot believe my good fortune that I have found a woman who is not only beautiful but also clever, well-informed, and kind-hearted.” He took several steps toward the bed. “At times I think I must have imagined you.”
Oh…That was…His words took away her breath and obliterated her thoughts. Was it possible that anyone really felt that way about her? Was it possible that this man felt that way?
“It is all I can do not to touch you when I see you like this.” The wave of his hand encompassed all of Elizabeth. “But I fear if I begin to touch you, I will never cease.” His voice was rough with emotion.
Despite her misgivings about what he was concealing, despite the unease engendered by her dreams, William heated her blood. Of all the memories she had lost, the one she regretted the most was the recollection of their wedding night. Being intimate with the man…feeling his body against hers…his skin rubbing against hers. Just imagining it made her flush with heat. “I would not prevent you from touching me,” Elizabeth whispered. The thought of his hands upon her was not unpleasant.
Although several feet still separated them, William stretched out his hands as if preparing for just such a touch. For a moment she believed he would close the distance between them, and she would feel his hands on her skin.
But he let his arms drop with a sigh and turned back to the window. “No, you are recovering, and we are fleeing for our lives. This is neither the time nor the place.” He held himself very stiffly, grasping the edge of the windowsill as if it would buttress his self-control.
Yet when he raised his eyes to hers, they told a different story as they blazed with desire. At times such as these, she had no difficulty believing in his love or understanding why she had accepted his offer. Such passion would be irresistible.
Surely they could be intimate again. It would be like a second wedding night.
She leaned forward, aware that it provided him with a tantalizing view. “Perhaps increased intimacy would help to restore my memories.”