Castles (35 page)

“You please me, Alesandra.”

“Of course I please you. I just gave in.”

She fluffed her pillow, then got back under the covers to rest on her side. “Marriage is more complicated than I anticipated,” she whispered. “Will I always have to be the one to concede?”

God, she sounded forlorn. “No, you won't always have to concede.”

Her unladylike snort told him she didn't believe him. “Marriage is a give-and-take arrangement,” he speculated.

“With the wife doing all the giving and the husband doing all the taking?”

He didn't answer that question. He turned on his side and pulled her up against him. Her shoulders rested against his chest and her bottom was pressed against his groin. The backs of her thighs, so smooth and silky, covered the tops of his thighs, and, God, how he loved the feel of her against him. He draped one arm over her hip, dropped his chin to rest on top of her head, and closed his eyes.

Long minutes passed in silence. He thought Alesandra had already fallen asleep and was just easing away from her when she whispered, “I dislike the word
obey
, Colin.”

“I gathered as much,” he told her dryly.

“A princess really shouldn't have to obey anyone.”

It was a paltry argument. “But you're my princess,” he reminded her. “And you will therefore do what I think is best. We're both going to have to bow to tradition for a while,” he added. “Neither one of us has any experience being married. I'm not an ogre, but the fact is you did promise to obey. I specifically remember hearing your pledge when you were reciting your vows.”

“I wish you would be more reasonable.”

“I'm always reasonable.”

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Do go to sleep.”

He let her have the last word. He waited a long while until he was certain she had fallen asleep before he left her bed and went back to his own chamber.

She felt him leave. She almost called out to him to ask him why he didn't want to sleep with her the rest of the night, but pride stopped her. Tears filled her eyes and she felt as though she had just been rejected by her husband. Her reaction didn't make much sense, especially after the passionate way he'd made love to her, but she was too tired to sort it all out in her mind.

Alesandra's sleep was fitful. She was awakened just an hour later by a scraping sound coming from Colin's bedroom. She immediately got out of bed to investigate. She didn't have any intention of intruding and therefore didn't bother with her robe or her slippers.

She heard a low expletive just as she pulled the door open and peeked inside. Colin stood in front of the fireplace. He'd dragged the footrest over and, while she watched, he put one foot on the cushion and bent over to massage his injured leg with both hands.

He didn't know she was there, watching him. She was certain of that fact because of his expression. It wasn't guarded now, and though she could only see one side of his face, it was enough for her to know he was in agony.

It took all the strength she had not to rush into his room and offer whatever paltry help she could give. His pride was involved, however, and she knew he would be furious with her if he realized she'd been watching him.

Rubbing the injured muscles wasn't easing the pain. Colin straightened up and began to pace back and forth in front of the hearth. He was trying to work out the knot of twisted muscle in what was left of the calf of his left leg. Forcing his full weight on the injured limb caused a spasm of pain to shoot all the way up to his chest. It felt like lightning had just struck every nerve in his body, and it damn near doubled him over. Colin refused to give in to the torment. He clenched his jaw tight, drew a deep breath, and continued walking. He knew from past experience that eventually he would be able to walk the cramp out. Some nights it only took an hour. Other nights it took much, much longer.

Colin walked over to the connecting door to Alesandra's room. He reached for the doorknob, then stopped. He wanted to look in on her, but he didn't want to wake her up and he knew she was a light sleeper. He'd learned that fact when he'd become ill and she slept with him.

Alesandra needed her rest. He turned around and resumed his pacing. His mind was suddenly filled with fragments of their conversation regarding his order and her compliance. He remembered how she had sounded when she'd told him she disliked the word obey. Hell, he didn't blame her. He thought it was a bit barbaric for a woman to have to promise to obey her husband for the rest of her life. Such radical opinions would land him in Newgate Prison if the conservatives got wind of his subversive thoughts, and Colin was honest enough to admit that there was a part of him—a very small part—that found the idea of a woman obeying his every command appealing. The appeal wouldn't last long, however. There were paid servants to do his bidding. And perhaps there were wives who would be just as accommodating. Alesandra didn't fit into that group. Thank God for that, he decided. She was feisty and opinionated, and he wouldn't have her any other way. She was so damned passionate about everything.

His princess, he decided, was flawed to perfection.

Alesandra hadn't made a sound when she hurried back to her bed and got under the covers. She couldn't get the picture of Colin's anguished expression out of her mind. Her heart ached for her husband. She hadn't realized until tonight how terrible his pain was, but now that she was aware, she vowed to find a way to help him.

She suddenly had a mission. She lit the candles and made a list of what she needed to do. First she would read whatever literature was available. Second on her list was a visit to the physician, Sir Winters. She would ply him with questions and ask him for suggestions. Alesandra couldn't think of anything else to add to her list now, but she was tired, and surely after some much needed sleep, she would think of other plans of action.

She put the list back on the side table and blew out the candles. Her cheeks were wet from her tears. She used the bed cover to wipe them dry, then closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

A sudden realization rushed into her mind just as she was drifting off. Colin didn't want her to sleep in his bed because of his leg. He didn't want her to know about his agony. Yes, that made sense. His pride was the issue, of course, but he was also probably being thoughtful, too. If he needed to walk every night, he would wake her. That made sense, too. Alesandra let out a loud sigh of relief.

Colin hadn't rejected her after all.

C
olin shook Alesandra awake early the next morning. “Sweetheart, open your eyes. I want to talk to you before I leave.”

She struggled to sit up. “Where are you going?”

“To work,” he answered.

She started to sink back down under the covers. Colin leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed hold of her shoulders. He couldn't tell if her eyes were open or not, for her curly hair hung over her face, blocking his view. He held on to her with one hand and brushed her hair back over her shoulders with his other. He was both exasperated and amused. “Are you awake yet?”

“I believe I am.”

“I want you to stay inside until I return home. I've already given Stefan and Raymond their orders.”

“Why do I have to stay inside?”

“Have you already forgotten about the policy in effect for thirty days?”

She let out a loud yawn. She guessed she had forgotten. “Do you mean to tell me I have to stay under lock and key for a full month?”

“We'll take it one day at a time, wife.”

“Colin, what time is it?”

“A few minutes past dawn.”

“Good God.”

“Have you heard my instructions?” he demanded.

She didn't answer him. She got out of bed, put her robe on, and walked into his bedroom. Her husband followed her.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in your bed.”

“Why?”

“I belong here.”

She buried herself under his covers and was sound asleep a minute later. He pulled the covers back, leaned down, and kissed her brow.

Flannaghan waited in the hall. Colin went over his instructions with the butler. The town house was going to become a fortress for the next thirty days, and no one other than immediate family was going to be allowed entrance.

“Keeping company out will be easy, milord, but keeping your princess inside is going to be most difficult.”

Flannaghan's prediction proved accurate. The battle began late that morning. The butler found his new mistress sitting on the floor in Colin's bedroom. She was surrounded by a stack of her husband's shoes.

“What are you doing, Princess?”

“Colin needs new boots,” she replied.

“But he has at least five pairs now he never wears. He's partial to the old Hessians even though the Wellingtons have become more fashionable.”

Alesandra was looking at the soles of the boots. “Flannaghan, do you notice the heel on the left boot is barely worn?”

The butler knelt down beside his mistress and looked at the boot she held up for him. “It looks brand-new,” he remarked. “But I know he's worn . . .”

“Yes, he has worn these boots,” she interrupted. She held up the right-footed boot. “This one's well worn, isn't it?”

“What do you make of it, Princess?”

“We're speaking in confidence now, Flannaghan. I don't want a word of this discussion to reach Colin. He's sensitive about his leg.”

“I won't say a word.”

She nodded. “It appears Colin's injured leg is just a bit shorter than the other one. I would like a bootmaker to look at these shoes and make a few adjustments.”

“Do you mean to make one heel thicker? Colin will notice, Princess.”

She shook her head. “I was thinking along the lines of an insert of some kind—perhaps a soft leather pad running the length. Who makes Colin's boots now?”

“Hoby made that pair,” Flannaghan answered. “Every fashionable gentleman gives him his business.”

“Then he won't do,” she countered. “I don't want anyone to know about this experiment. We must find someone else.”

“There's Curtis,” Flannaghan remarked after a moment's consideration. “He used to make Colin's father's shoes. The man's retired now, but he lives in London and he might be persuaded to help you.”

“I shall go and see him at once. I'll take only one pair of Colin's shoes with me. If luck is on our side, my husband won't even notice they're gone.”

Flannaghan was vehemently shaking his head at her. “You cannot leave the town house. I would be happy to go on this errand,” he added in a rush when she looked like she was about to argue with him. “If you'll write down what you wish Curtis to do . . .”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I'll make a list of suggestions. What a fine idea. Could you go this afternoon?”

The butler immediately agreed. Alesandra handed him the pair of boots and then stood up. “If this plan works, I'll have Curtis make a pair of half Wellingtons for Colin. Then he'll have a pair to wear under his trousers. Now then, Flannaghan, I have one more request to ask of you.”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Would you please take a note to Sir Winters? I would like him to call late this afternoon.”

“Yes, of course,” the butler agreed. “May I be bold and ask you why you wish to see the physician?”

“I'm going to be ill this afternoon.”

Flannaghan did a double take. “You are? How can you know . . .”

She let out a sigh. “If I give you the full explanation and beg your confidence, you'll have to lie to your employer. We can't have that, now can we?”

“No, of course not.”

“So you see, Flannaghan, it's best you not know.”

“This has something to do with Colin, doesn't it?”

She smiled. “Perhaps,” she replied.

She left Flannaghan to the task of putting the other shoes back in the wardrobe and went back to her room to make her list for the bootmaker. The boots she was sending were made of soft black calfskin and she added in her note the hope that Curtis would be able to stretch the bridge across the top of the boot enough to accommodate the insert she was certain he could make.

Alesandra then sent a note to Sir Winters requesting an audience. She set the time at four o'clock.

The physician was punctual. Stefan escorted him into the salon. He dared to frown at his mistress for insisting he let the man inside. She smiled at the guard.