Chapter 1—Tenderly Nurture
For the second morning in a row, I awakened to warm arms wrapped around me and the slow, steady heartbeat of my husband under my cheek.
With his hand, he stroked slowly from the top of my head all the way down my hair and almost to my waist before he lifted his hand and started at the top again. He stroked my hair over and over, the motion almost lulling me back into slumber. In contrast to the tumult of emotions I had felt when I lay down with him at night, I found waking in Branford’s arms to be strangely relaxing and quite pleasant. He was warm, and lying with my head on his chest was so comfortable, I felt at ease and couldn’t help but smile a little to myself.
I lay motionless for a minute or two, trying to collect myself internally as memories of the previous night flooded back into my head—from the words I heard in the garden, to my continued concern over our lack of consummation, and then to the soft, gentle touches Branford left on the tops of my partially exposed breasts. There had been a strange and unfamiliar tingling feeling over my skin for several minutes after he had stopped touching me, and just thinking about his fingers sliding over my skin so close to an intimate area of my body made my heart beat faster.
Feeling Branford’s lips touch the top of my head and hearing his intake of breath against my hair, I swiftly brought my thoughts back to the present. Deciding there was no real point in delaying, I tilted my head up to meet his eyes and his slight smile.
“Good morning, my wife,” Branford said.
“Good morning, Branford,” I replied and then quickly looked away, feeling shy and blushing when I looked into his eyes. It made the memories of his lips on my skin overwhelm me again, warming my skin. I looked to the windows and saw the sun shining through the cracks in the shutters, so I knew it was well into the morning. It had been very late by the time I had slumbered, for it had taken some time for my body to recover from Branford’s touch enough to relax into sleep. “It’s late.”
“Yes.” Branford’s shoulders moved up and down casually. I looked back at him, and he was still smiling. “There’s no rush today though, and I do like waking with you in my arms.”
“Have you been awake long?” I asked, hoping my words would divert focus from my almost permanently pink cheeks.
“A while,” Branford said with another shrug. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“You have?” Again, I looked away from his eyes and felt heat rise to my face. Wondering what the specifics of his thoughts might entail, I tried to remember what I might have done either last night or during my sleep.
“Yes.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No!” Branford sat up and pulled me with him until I was sitting beside him on the bed with his hands on my shoulders. “Why would you think that?”
I took a deep breath. Why did I think that? Because everything I had done thus far had been wrong, that’s why. I had angered and embarrassed my husband, causing him to go to another woman on just the second night of our marriage because I couldn’t bring myself to lie back and smile while he claimed my body. Ultimately, I was afraid because doing the wrong thing could cost me my life—if not in one way, then in another.
“Because I haven’t done anything right,” I finally said. “Because I’m…inadequate.”
“Inadequate?” Branford scoffed. “Alexandra, I have no idea why you would say such a thing.”
“I haven’t…we haven’t yet…” I stopped and took a deep breath. Branford found my chin with his hand, and he looked deep into my eyes.
“We talked about this last night,” Branford said. “You offered yourself to me, and I made the decision to wait.”
“Because I wasn’t ready,” I clarified.
“You aren’t ready because I haven’t made you ready,” Branford said definitively. “So it was my decision and my responsibility.”
“I embarrassed you in front of King Camden,” I whispered.
“Again, because I didn’t prepare you properly.”
“You were angry about the carriage driver,” I finally said.
Branford’s fingers tensed against my shoulders.
“Yes, I was. I can only hope it was an accident, and I didn’t let a traitor live because you felt sorry for him.”
“A traitor?”
“Yes, a traitor,” Branford growled.
“I only lost my balance,” I said quietly.
“Which would not have happened if he had kept his horses still,” Branford insisted. “I’m definitely watching him now. If he steps out of line again, I will not stop at your whim.”
I tensed at his harsh words and felt Branford’s hand stop at the lower part of my back, no longer stroking my hair.
“I’m still…lacking…in what you need from me.”
“Alexandra, I don’t understand.”
The door to the morning room opened before I could respond. Branford let out a low groan as Ida walked into the bedroom, stood at the very end of the bed, and put her hands on her hips.
“Ida, for the love of God, you can’t just walk in here anymore,” Branford said, growling at his sister. He pulled the blanket up over my shoulders, partially hiding me from view.
“I thought you might like more than a couple of hours’ notice,” Ida said with a shrug, obviously not concerned about her intrusion. “Good morning, Alexandra.”
I mumbled a response to her though she may not have heard it through the blankets.
“I’m throwing a reception for you tonight,” Ida said, “since the first one was obviously a complete mess according to Parnell’s description. You need a good one, and since I’m leaving with Parnell to go to Sawyer in two days, it will have to be tonight. Mother said it would be a good way to introduce Alexandra to the court officially, anyway.”