“I like that you are braver now,” he said, in between kissing each of her fingers. “I like it better when you are not so afraid.”
She watched as he cradled her hands and thought how confusing marriage was. She still didn’t know him well…their acquaintance barely spanned a few weeks. But as soon as he’d opened his heart to her, she felt a sense of connection she’d never felt to anyone else. Not her parents, her brother or sister, or any of the people she’d sung with in her short operatic career. Wescott’s father had told her that a good marriage would bring happiness beyond measure.
“Do you think we will be happy?” she asked. “As happy as your parents one day?”
“Of course we will.”
His confidence used to rile her, but now it comforted her because she trusted him more. After one last passionate kiss, they fetched their cloaks and lanterns and stole back through the garden to the Abbey. Once they washed and put on fresh night clothes, they reconvened in her room.
“Did you think your parents missed us at dinner and wondered why we never came down?” she asked.
He stifled a laugh. “Probably not.”
His smile made her remember the “spanking” she’d just received, and she blushed as they climbed beneath the covers. When he offered his arms, she moved into them and found the perfect spot within his embrace.
“Please stay with me all night,” she said. “In case I have another nightmare.”
“I’ll be happy to. I’m pleased you finally wish me to sleep beside you. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
He really was quite handsome, she thought. So much handsomer than she gave him credit for, when she was only looking at the things she’d lost. She felt the urge to sing again, but it was quiet in the bedroom, so she only hummed a very quiet melody. Man and wife, and wife and man.
“I’ll find you some adventure,” he said, beneath the lilt of her song. “I’ve already put my mind to it, Lady Wescott.”
She didn’t know what he meant, and she didn’t ask, for after the carnal events of the evening, she was already almost asleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Kidnapped
Wescott stayed awake long after his wife went limp in his arms. What a turn of events, that he could hold her so after a dreamlike evening of sensual activities. He’d left the Abbey in despair, worried his marriage might never function, and returned to find his wife not only open to a wedded relationship, but keen to enjoy it.
Perhaps it was because he’d decided he must try to love her, or that she’d decided she must be braver. Perhaps it was his father’s meddling, or the longing effect of separation. Whatever had opened this connection between them, he was grateful, and he wanted to bask in these post-carnal moments in case she awakened like the old Ophelia and pushed him away.
As he drifted in and out of sleep, he thought of her song, and the way she’d held up the sword like some woman warrior of yore. It came to him then, a place they might go adventuring, a wild, beautiful land where they could learn more about each other away from the strictures of English society. He roused himself long enough to send a note belowstairs, to prepare two carriages and a small retinue of servants for travel in the morning.
After that, he slept very well, and was pleased that Ophelia woke in the same pleasant, accepting mood she’d been in the night before.
“Good morning,” he said, brushing back her disordered blonde locks. Later, Rochelle would tame them into a smooth, elegant hairstyle, but now, her wispy messiness was just for him. “You slept well, I think. No nightmares?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t in three nights now. I think it’s because I’ve been trying to conquer my fears. I survived that fire—we both did. I’m trying to let go of all my bad feelings about it. Your sister Elizabeth told me that thoughts can be powerful.” She yawned, her fingers curled about his arm. “More powerful than any fire, anyway.”
“My sister can be very thoughtful,” he agreed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Mostly better. My backside is a little sore.”
Her impish blush sent heat right to his cock. No, no time for that, if they were to begin their adventure. Not only that, but she was probably still tender from the way he’d ridden her last night.
“Ophelia.” He tried to focus on her eyes, rather than her lovely breasts, clearly visible beneath her sheer gown. “Would you like to go on an adventure?”
“An adventure? Yes.” She didn’t take a moment to think about it. “Where will we go? What will we do?”
“I had a thought of stealing you away to Cairwyn, my mother’s corner of Wales.”
“Stealing me away?” Her expression grew even more animated. “Kidnapping me after all?”