On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9)

He pushed back from the luncheon table. "I need to check on the dogs."

She smiled, and wriggled back her chair. "I'll come, too — I want to see my puppy." She paused, her eyes on his. "Were you truly serious about that?"

Rising, he rounded the table to draw out her chair. "Of course." The champion puppy would serve as a substitute wedding gift until he could give her his real one — the necklace and earrings he'd had designed to match the pearl-and-diamond betrothal ring. But he couldn't give her the set until he confessed, or she'd think he was simply giving her part of her dowry back, a scenario he wasn't capable of stomaching.

She rose; he offered her his arm. "I'm sure you won't begrudge him to the pack when he's needed."

"You mean when they run? But they love to run, don't they?"

"It would kill a champion not to run when the scent's high."

She continued asking questions about the care of hounds; when they reached the kennels, she made her way immediately to the litter pen. Her pup was at the front again; from where he'd stopped in the aisle to talk to Sugden, Luc watched her lift the pup out, crooning.

Amelia held the puppy, who seemed quite content in her arms, and talked to him. When Luc eventually came up, she turned. "You said I could name him."

Luc scratched the pup's head. "You can, but he has to have a proper name for registering, one we haven't used before." He nodded to the office at the end of the kennels. "Sugden has the registration book — ask him to show it to you. You'll need to check the name hasn't already been used."

She nodded.

Luc crouched and patted Belle, then checked over the other puppies. Then he stood. "There are business matters I need to deal with — I'll be in my study. Check with Sugden, but your pup and the others can probably do with a little time outside."

She glanced at him. "Playing?"

He grinned, a little evilly. "What else do pups do?" With a salute, he swung away.

Amelia turned back to her pup. Once Luc was out of earshot, she whispered, "Galahad. He never was all that impressed with King Arthur, so he won't have used that name before."

He'd been in his study for twenty minutes, poring over investment reports, when he rose to retrieve a ledger from the other side of the room — and saw her, on the lawn, puppies gamboling at her feet. Sugden and Belle watched from a distance; Amelia, golden ringlets dancing, the blue of her gown mirroring the blue of the sky, held center stage as, laughing, she mock-fought with the puppies over a length of knotted rope.

The pups fell over her feet as well as their own; they jumped up, pawed her gown, dug at her hem… she didn't seem to mind.

After a moment, Sugden called; Amelia looked up, then waved, and Sugden left. Belle put her nose on her paws and closed her eyes, like Sugden, convinced her puppies were safe.

Ledger in hand, Luc hesitated. Perhaps he should — A knock on the door had him turning. "Come." McTavish entered. "Those estimates we were waiting on have arrived, my lord. Do you want to go over them now?" He wanted to say no — wanted to put aside all work and join his new wife on the lawn and play with the puppies. He'd already spent all morning in her company; the revelation that he'd happily spend all afternoon with her, too, was damning.

"By all means." He waved McTavish to the chair before his desk; carrying the ledger, he returned to his seat behind it. "How much are they asking?"

It had all been so easy. So surprisingly straightforward.

Two mornings later, Amelia lolled in bed, smiling inanely at the ripples of sunlight dancing across the ceiling. There was a small pool at the end of the terrace outside the window; every morning, indeed, throughout most of every day, the sun reflected off the water, filling the main bedroom with shimmering light.

The main bedroom — hers and Luc's. The bed in which she lay was the one they shared, every night, and every morning.

Her smile deepened at the memories — of the nights, of the mornings. Only five had passed since they'd wed, yet in that respect she felt confident and assured. Just as in the wider sphere of his household, of the estate and their neighbors, she felt secure in her position as the new Lady Calverton; in all those arenas, their interaction, their relationship, was precisely as she'd wanted it, exactly what she'd wished to achieve.

As a first step.

She'd achieved that first step much sooner than she'd expected. Which left her facing the question of what next far earlier than she'd imagined. She could lie back and simply wallow, enjoy her achievement before girding her loins and broaching the next, far more difficult stage. However, she was twenty-three, and her impatience to have the marriage she wanted hadn't abated. She knew what she wanted — that and nothing less. Just the thought of it was enough to make her restless.

There was an underlying sense, not of dissatisfaction, but of something still missing from the equation of their marriage. Yet it wasn't simply a case of introducing the missing element.

It was there, already in existence; she was sure of that, at least with respect to her. She loved Luc, even though she hadn't yet made that plain. It was as yet too risky to make such a declaration; if he didn't love her in return — or wasn't yet willing to admit he did — a declaration from her would only create awkwardness. Worse, being him, he might dig in his heels and doggedly resist the notion completely.

Yet that had to be her next step — she needed to bring love — hers initially, his in response — into the open, lower her veil, persuade him to lower his shield. She needed to draw love up from where it lurked, unacknowledged, beneath the fabric of their interactions, and weave it into their lives, into their relationship so it became a vibrant part of the whole.

So it could contribute its strength and support.

She needed to coax, to convince, to cajole, to make him recognize it, and want it, too.