Pomfrey bowed low over Gillian’s hand and motioned for the footmen to fetch the luggage. “Welcome, Lady Grantham.”
“Thank you.”
The butler turned to the footmen. “Take the luggage to the Ivory Suite.”
“Yes, sir.” Two burly footmen began hauling Gillian’s trunks off the coach and up the steps.
“Will you be wanting a bath or a bite to eat before you retire, Lady Grantham?” Pomfrey asked.
“No, thank you.” She smiled at the butler. “Just a bed.”
Colin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning at the expression on Pomfrey’s face.
“Very good, ma’am. Follow me.” The butler started up the steps.
“Wait!” Colin scooped his bride up in his arms and took the steps two at a time. “Allow me.”
* * *
Gillian barely had time to notice her surroundings or admire the beauty of the Ivory Suite as Colin whisked her up the stairs and into the suite.
“Here we are, my lady,” Colin said as he set her on her feet beside a huge half-tester bed hung with ivory damask curtains.
The bed was turned down in preparation for her, and the small traveling case that contained her nightgown and her personal items had already been deposited in the room. A vase of fresh roses sat on the bedside table. A bottle of very fine vintage French wine rested on a silver tray beside the roses.
“It’s lovely,” Gillian told him as Colin walked over and closed the outer door to the bedchamber.
“There’s a dressing room through there,” Colin pointed. “And my bedchamber is beyond. I’ll be there if you need anything.”
“I won’t need anything until morning.” She looked a little lost standing beside the bed in the massive room. “Thank you, Colin.”
“You’re welcome, Gillian.”
“Well...” He cleared his throat. “I’ll say good night then.” He turned and walked toward the door that connected the bedchamber to the dressing room.
“Good night.”
Colin walked through the connecting door and closed it behind him.
Minutes later, Gillian opened it and walked through the dressing room to the bedroom beyond.
Colin looked up from the writing desk as she walked in.
Gillian stood frozen in the pool of light from the writing lamp on the desk. He had removed his coat and cravat; his waistcoat and his white lawn shirt hung open, exposing a solid wedge of muscle covered by a thick mat of blond hair and the darker circle of one male nipple as he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet in one fluid motion. Gillian didn’t realize a man so big could move so gracefully—or that looking at his naked chest could make her shiver and flush with fever at the same time.
“Gillian? Is something wrong?”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue as Colin moved around the desk and walked toward her in his stocking feet.
Colin’s heart slammed against the wall of his chest as that unconscious gesture created an insistent throbbing against the front of his suddenly too-tight trousers. He noticed for the first time that she was clutching a filmy white length of fabric to her breasts.
“I...” Gillian felt heat course through her body. Her mouth was dry again, and her breathing was rather labored.
“Is there something you want
ed?” Colin moved closer.
Gillian sucked in a ragged breath. “My dress,” she explained. “I can’t reach the buttons.”