The Accidental Countess (The Aristocrat Diaries 3)

CHAPTER TWELVE

MATTHEW

I put the kettle on the stand and flicked the button to boil it. Christopher and the other staff weren’t working this weekend, which meant that Eva and I really did have the whole place to ourselves.

It was the first time since the wedding we’d been truly alone. It hadn’t even been a week yet, but I’d been so busy that we hadn’t had too many chances to spend time together. If I regretted anything, it was setting the hotel date the same week as the wedding.

Eva had given up so much, and I hadn’t given her anything in return.

I was almost entirely certain that she wouldn’t count my cock as a gift. Given how hard she’d dug her nails into my shoulders last night, I was inclined to disagree with it.

Fortunately, I knew better than to tell a woman she was wrong.

That was a real recipe for disaster, and I wanted to keep my wife in my good books.

Wife.

It was such a strange feeling. The word didn’t quite sit right on my tongue—it was foreign, almost. Would I ever get used to calling her my wife? Would it ever get easier?

Regardless of the state of our relationship, there was a very real, very legal piece of paper that decreed this marriage to be completely valid.

A part of me felt like I had to give it a good effort. If anything, by the time my mum and grandmother returned from their trip, we had to be believable as newlyweds.

Which meant spending time together.

Real time together.

I didn’t count the time at the hotel or an evening on the sofa—or in the bedroom—as that.

Ultimately, I wanted to make Eva comfortable here. I wanted her to feel like Menai Castle was her home, like she had just as much of a right to be here as I did, because she did now.

I also wished Mum and Nan were here—they’d be able to help her settle in far better than I ever would. After all, they’d both been in her position once before, while I was feeling more than a little lost about how to help her.

Mind you, I’m sure we would both feel better if the moving company actually showed up with her belongings. I knew she wanted those, and last night at dinner, she’d said she was going to call them first thing this morning.

She was usually awake by now, up and chirpy like some kind of morning loving mutant, so I assumed that’s what she was doing.

Either way, I wanted to start off our weekend together well, so I was going to make her breakfast.

I knew next to nothing about Eva. This woman, who was my wife, who’d agreed to uproot her entire existence, was almost a stranger to me.

I didn’t even know her favourite colour. I could just about remember the wine she liked to drink. Even Christopher knew that, and she’d known him for about four days, for the love of God.

This weekend was about getting to know her as a person. If we were going to live together for five years and co-parent for even longer, I needed to know who Eva was.

Not the Eva she portrayed to the world—but the Eva she kept locked away. It was the only way this would be successful. We had to be good friends, at the very least.

Shit, though, if sometimes I didn’t look at her and briefly wonder if there could be something more between us one day.

I’d gone about the discovery fucking backwards, and there was no chance she’d ever consider a real relationship with me, I knew that. But sometimes…

Bloody hell. Sometimes, I wondered if I’d made the right choice marrying her. I’d forever been set on the idea of never getting wed, but my circumstances had forced me into this.

And I’d been idiotic enough to ask her. The one woman who didn’t roll over and whimper every time I opened my mouth.

The one woman I often struggled to get out of my head.

I pulled a carton of eggs and some bacon from the fridge. As if I’d whistled, all three dogs came running into the kitchen and stopped in front of the cooker. Lucy sat first, swiftly followed by Jack and eventually, the ever-stubborn Baxter, who joined them after he’d scooted back a few paces.

Sometimes, I wondered if it was because the two smaller dogs sat practically on top of him. He wasn’t exactly a small thing.

More like a tiny pony.

“Absolutely not,” I said, looking at all three of them. “This is my bacon. You can’t have it.”

Jack let out a little howl.

“Sorry. You’ve already had your breakfast. This is mine. Now off you go.”

None of them moved.

“Bed.”

Still, nobody moved.

“Go to bed.”

Again, nothing.

“Good morning,” Eva said, walking into the kitchen and tying the belt of her satin robe around her waist. “Hi, puppies! C’mere.”