“Parnell’s leaving?”
“Yes, he said you spoke about it.”
“Oh, right. We did.” Branford sat up a bit and rubbed his eyes with his finger
tips. “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this.”
“Not a chance.” Ida crossed her arms over her chest.
“Fine,” Branford grumbled. “Now get out!”
Ida waved at me before she turned around and headed back out the open door, shutting it soundlessly behind her.
“A reception?” I finally said.
“There’s no way of avoiding it,” Branford said. “Once Ida has her mind made up, there really is no way of stopping her.”
“Tonight?” The concern in my voice must have been noticeable.
“Don’t worry, my wife.” Branford smiled at me. “This one will be easy for you.”
“What will I have to do?” I asked.
“It will be a dinner, much like the reception after our wedding, only a bit more ostentatious, I’m sure. Ida goes overboard when it comes to such things though they do end up being the talk of the kingdom afterwards, so she must do something right. It will be a feast, and you will be the last one to enter. You’ll join me to eat, and we’ll dance afterwards. Nothing to worry about at all.”
“What should I wear?”
Branford laughed.
“I haven’t any idea at all,” he said. “I’m sure Ida will find someone to advise you, though. She probably has a wardrobe picked out for both of us by now.”
“It really is late,” I said, glancing at the shuttered windows. “I should get up and…”
I didn’t really know what I should be doing, so my sentence trailed off. I was used to keeping myself busy all the time. I started to push myself away from him, figuring there was something I should be doing instead of sleeping, but Branford’s arms tightened around me.
“Stay,” Branford said, the word sounding more like a question than a command. “Ida will undoubtedly do everything that needs to be done, so there is no rush right now. Please…just lie here with me a while.”
Branford lay down on his back and pulled me close to him again. I nodded and lay my head down against my husband’s chest. He immediately moved his hand into my hair again with his fingers pulling lazily through the strands. My thoughts returned to the night and the feel of Branford’s gentle touch and compared them to the slow draw of his fingers through my hair.
“What are you thinking?” Branford asked quietly. “I find you so difficult to read, and you’re not very forthcoming with information. Tell me what you are thinking that makes your eyes shine like that.”
Heat rose to my face, and I tried to tuck my head into the crook of his arm, but he held my chin and turned me to face him.
“Don’t hide. What are you thinking?”
“I was just thinking about what you said,” I told him. “I like waking up with you, too.”
“You do?” Branford beamed at me, letting out a breathy, relieved laugh.
“Yes.” I was sure my face blushed a deeper red.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Branford said. “Honestly, I had just about come to the conclusion that you didn’t care much for me at all.”
“Why would you think such a thing?”
“You hardly look at me,” he said, his smile quickly gone from his face. “When I saw you with my mother, I think that was the first time I had seen you really smile, and you stopped as soon as I walked in. You’ve barely told me anything about yourself, and every time I touch you, you flinch as if you think I’m going to do something horrible to you.”
Though his grip remained holding me to face him, I still shifted my eyes away from his gaze. Part of me understood that a lifetime of ingrained behaviors could not be changed overnight, but I would have been lying to both him and to myself if said I wasn’t made nervous by the touch of his skin on mine. It was too unexpected—not necessarily unpleasant, but foreign and strange. I probably hadn’t spoken to more than a handful of men my entire life, and all of them in the royal family, or very close to them, at Hadebrand. None of them ever touched me intentionally though—not once.