Gillian stared up at him. His blond hair was damp, and his face was freshly shaven. A thick white towel was draped over one bare shoulder, and a pair of well-fitted
buff breeches, only partially buttoned, rode low on his slim hips. “Why?” The sight of him like that did funny things to her insides.
“To correct my mistake,” he answered.
“What mistake?” Gillian ignored his request.
“The one I made when I rang for hot water for a bath and a shave and told Pomfrey I was hungry.” He looked down at Gillian still struggling to tug her nearly transparent nightgown down over her legs and smiled. The nightgown revealed as much as it concealed, but Gillian hadn’t yet noticed. She had unpinned her hair after she’d left him last night, and now it lay across her pillow in a riot of dark curls. He ached to tangle his fingers in it. “We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon, and it might seem a bit suspicious if they had to serve the honeymooners breakfast in bed in two different rooms. It would tend to spoil the romance. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that we would look more like a happily married couple—a honeymoon couple—if we were sleeping in the same bed.”
Colin knew his explanation was rather thin. He knew that Jarrod’s staff would respect his privacy no matter what. But Colin wanted them to look like a happily married couple, even though they had decided not to consummate the marriage. He had promised not to rush her. And he would keep his word.
After Gillian had retired for the night, Colin had spent what remained of it in the chair beside her bed, watching over her while she slept. Sometime before dawn, he’d realized that he liked keeping watch over her. He liked being her Sir Galahad. If he couldn’t take her in his arms and make love to her, he wanted the chance to hold her while she slept. He could live with a chaste marriage as long as he could sleep beside her and protect her and keep her warm just as he had that one night at the Blue Bottle Inn.
Colin glanced at the clock on the mantel. “They brought the hot water for shaving and my bath about fifteen or twenty minutes ago. They should be knocking on the door with breakfast any minute now. Now, close your eyes. This has to look good.”
“Why?”
Because he’d meant his vows. Because he wanted to be her husband. Because he spent a great deal of time in a world where nothing was quite what it seemed to be. Because he didn’t want his marriage to be a sham. “The Marquess of Shepherdston is one of my oldest and dearest friends. He loaned us his house for our honeymoon, and his staff believes we’re here to consummate our marriage. And I would prefer not to disabuse them of the idea.”
He took the towel off his shoulder and tossed it on the foot of the bed. “I know you’re not an innocent, but don’t forget that I behaved like a husband and a gentleman and warned you,” Colin told her as he casually unfastened his pants and pushed them down over his slim hips.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him. Gillian opened her mouth to protest, but no words of protest came to mind. All she could think of was how magnificent he was. She had never seen a man completely naked. And never like this. Standing tall and fully erect. Gillian stared. He was beautiful. His wide shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, slim hips, and long strong legs. His chest was covered with curly blond hair that also tapered down into a long, slim line that encircled his navel and pointed to the hard erection jutting from another thatch of curly blond hair. He was big. He was all male. He was completely aroused.
And all mine.
That thought came unbidden. Gillian tried to shut it out, but there was no shutting out the sight of him or the effect it was having on her. She was flushed and hot and damp and swollen in places she couldn’t name. And all because he was standing there, looking back at her with that look in his green eyes.
“Is it me? Or haven’t you ever seen a naked man before?” Colin asked, genuinely surprised and more than a bit pleased by the awed expression on her face.
“It’s both,” she whispered.
“But you eloped with a man,” he said. “You gave every sign of knowing what to expect. Of having a certain amount of experience…”
“Signs can be deceiving,” she reminded him.
Colin frowned. “Were they wrong? Your father and the Bow Street runner?” He raked his lingers through his damp hair. “Is it possible he left you an innocent?”
Gillian shook her head. “They weren’t wrong. But it was always dark. I never saw him completely unclothed.”
“Bloody hell!” Colin reached for the towel he had tossed aside.
“No, don’t!”
Colin halted.
“I like looking at you.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. Colin’s erection responded to her words and her gesture by becoming harder and even more prominent.
“I’m gratified to hear it,” he told her. “That bodes well for our future. But not, I’m afraid, our immediate future. For if I’m not mistaken, we’re about to have company.” Colin slipped into bed beside her as a knock sounded on the bedroom door. “They’re coming to light the fire and deliver breakfast.”
Gillian groaned. “How did you know?”
“I heard them coming up the stairs,” he answered. “And I smelled the coffee and the chocolate.”
Gillian sniffed, but all she could smell was the scent of sandalwood shaving soap and the clean fragrance she’d come to associate with Colin.
The knock sounded again.
“One moment.” Colin turned to Gillian. “Do you have a dressing gown?”