In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) (9 page)

BOOK: In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4)
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“And
you think it worth acquiring?” she asked primly.

“I’m
feeling relaxed, the point as I said.”

Again,
he was subjected to an assessing look. Not breaking eye contact, she
took another swig. Shortly thereafter they ordered seconds, and the
mood was definitely lightened by the time their supper arrived.

They
talked congenially over boiled beef and potatoes, and James began to
hope. What he was hoping, at least for tonight, he wasn’t
certain, but he knew pushing her too quickly would renew her distrust
just as he was trying to ease it. He tamped his impatience by
remembering that his relationship with Amanda was worth waiting for.

Waiting.
He groaned inwardly.

“I’m
sorry about the room,” he said.

Amanda
looked down at her plate, her lashes fanning across her cheeks. “I
was unfair.”

“I
can stay elsewhere if it will make you feel better.”

“Where
else is there?”

“The
stables?”

Her
gaze came back to his. “You said you didn’t want to sleep
there.”

“I
don’t but for you…”

She
looked at her plate again, toying with her food, pushing the beef to
one side and the potatoes to the other. She popped a bite of meat in
her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing.

“How
will it look,” Amanda asked quietly, “if Earl Lonsdale
sleeps in the stables while his new bride sleeps in the inn?”

“Do
you care what people think?”

“Perhaps
a little, but I was more looking at it from your perspective.”

James
felt a rush of gratitude for her understanding. Though he didn’t
particularly worry about gossip, it would not do his pride any good
if it became known that he was barred from his wife’s bed. The
blokes in this room expected him to escort a tipsy Lady Lonsdale
upstairs in a short while. The nudging and winking that accompanied
his and Amanda’s exit could be predicted. He hardly needed an
audience to witness his good fortune, but he like any man had an ego.

Dessert
was a warm rice and current pudding, rich and spicy with nutmeg, the
perfect end to a meal that had gone unexpectedly well.

“I’ll
need my corset after all this food,” Amanda said.

“You’ll
never need it. Don’t know how a woman can enjoy a meal if her
stomach can’t expand. It must be miserable to eat.”

Smiling slightly, she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth.
He was mesmerized by the innocent gesture. Maybe he
should
sleep outside…

“Females
aren’t supposed to enjoy their food, James.”

He
cleared his throat. “That hardly seems fair.”

Her
smile widened. “You are very broadminded. Don’t you like
a tiny waist?”

“I
like a natural waist. I suppose living in the tropics exposed me to a
way of life that is more casual, less concerned with convention.”

“You
flout convention?”

“Flouting
is immature. I simply choose what makes sense to me and ignore the
rest.”

There
was a sudden awkward silence, as if all at once they had run out of
inconsequential things to say. James realized they had been delaying
going upstairs. They had finished eating, his wife sitting with her
hands clasped demurely in her lap. Amanda, for all her earlier
bluster looked lost and very young.

“Would
you like to return to the room?” he asked kindly. “I’ll
give you enough time to prepare for bed.”

She
nodded, her features easing with relief. “I won’t be
long,” she said, rising.

The
attention from the male patrons that had attended her entrance into
the dining room attended her exit as well. Two or three men looked
his way, giving him congratulatory nods and saluting him with their
drinks. To Amanda’s credit, she seemed blithely unaware.

James
waved over the serving girl and asked that his driver be sent to him.
He pointed to his mug, deciding on one more ale while he waited.

Benton
arrived within minutes. “You sent for me, m’lord?”

“Yes.”
James indicated the seat that his wife had recently vacated. “What
do you think our chances are of traveling tomorrow?”

The
driver removed his cap and sat down. “The rain has stopped, but
I don’t think it’s going to last. The rumbling has
started again, a sure sign that we’re about to get another
flood.”

“Have
you heard anything about the condition of the roads?”

“Not
much, m’lord. But stands to reason, with the kind of rain we’ve
had, we won’t be leaving tomorrow.”

“Damn.”
James blew out a puff of air between parted lips. “How long?”

“I’d
plan on another night.”

James
ordered one more ale, this one for Benton. He downed the remainder of
his own and stood up. “Get some rest, man. If the situation
changes, please let me know right away. I want to leave as soon as
possible.”

He
strode from the dining room, taking the stairs two at a time. Only at
his door did he hesitate. He knocked softly and, when there was no
answer, turned the iron handle.

Amanda
had not wasted the brief time since she had come upstairs. She lay in
the bed, covers to her neck, back to the door. However, something
intangible betrays a person pretending to sleep. Unless he completely
misjudged the situation, his wife was wide awake.

He
walked quietly into the room and removed his clothing except for his
trousers and shirt. He paused then, uncertain what to do next. Except
for a few insults, he and Amanda had not discussed the details of
their cohabitation, and at this point he didn’t want to offend
her.

The
only chair in the room was a wooden rocker, hardly comfortable enough
to induce sleep. The floor was an option but not much of one. He
could return downstairs and have more to drink. Enough alcohol and he
wouldn’t feel the discomfort wherever he fell. But that roomful
of lowly fellows in the tavern would wonder why he had come back.
Ridiculous thing to worry about, but they’d all had such high
expectations for him and he hated to disappoint them.

“There’s
room enough for two,” came a feathery voice from the side of
the bed opposite him.

He
knew she was awake! “Are you certain?”

Amanda
rolled over to look at him, dark eyes sparkling by the light of one
meager oil lamp. “You said I would warm your bed, James.
Forgive me, but I
assumed.

“Ah…throwing
my words back at me.”

But
he was too pleased by the offer of comfort to take offense. James
plopped on the bed on top of the blankets and placed his hands behind
his head. Exhaustion crawled along his back, and he groaned aloud.

He
closed his eyes, drifting almost immediately, and that lavender scent
that had so tickled his senses earlier wafted over him again. Oddest
thing, but it had an immediate effect on his groin. Of course, after
that falling asleep was hopeless.

Amanda
had returned to her original position, a tight knot of legs and arms,
positioned as far from him as possible without falling off the bed.
She lay immobile, seeming not to breathe, her very stillness exposing
her inability to sleep.

James
rolled onto his side, staring at the back of her head. Her long dark
hair glinted invitingly, satiny strands in the muted light, and he
felt an irresistible urge to stroke it. He knew when he drew his hand
back it would smell of lavender.

This
is a hellish situation, he thought miserably. He was married to a
woman who made him ache with need, and there was no reason moral or
otherwise that should keep them from consummating their vows. What
was keeping them apart was a misunderstanding, one that should be
easy enough to undo.

He
needed to declare himself, to tell her how he felt, though he only
now was comprehending just what that meant. However, something told
him this was not the time to unburden himself. Amanda would never
believe him, not with her distrust of him so new and painful. She
would suspect ulterior motives on his part, either to smooth an
uncomfortable situation or—more sinister—to lie his way
into her bed.

Irony
of ironies—he smiled to himself—he was in her bed now,
little good it was doing him.

“Amanda?”

A
long pause, and then, “Yes?”

“You
can’t sleep?”

“I’m
not used to this bed or…being away from home.”

She
sounded wistful, and James realized how naive she was, how protected.
Amanda was a sophisticated woman, true, but tonight she was away from
home and a doting father for the first time, entering an unknown
world. He remembered feeling much like that many years ago on a ship
headed for the West Indies. Naturally, as a young man of twenty-two,
he wasn’t about to admit he was scared.

“Am
I disturbing you?”

She
moved onto her back to look at him. “I sleep alone so, yes, you
are a distraction.”

“I
can leave.”

“We’ve
settled this. I’ll persevere.”

There
was a smile in her voice, self-mockery, and on a whim James reach
over and touched her hair. Immediately, her gaze went remote.

“Please,
James, don’t test our bargain tonight,” she said.

He
pulled his hand back, stung. “I think we should try to get some
rest,” he muttered. This time
he
turned away from her.

The
minutes ticked by and the rain began again, a heavy, oppressive
downpour now devoid of wind or thunder. The morbid weather made their
room seem as isolated from the world as the two people in the bed
were isolated from each other. Depressed, James closed his eyes,
willing himself to sleep.

“You
never answered my question today,” Amanda said.

He
must have begun to doze, for he had to think a moment about what she
had said. “What question was that?”

“What
would you do in my place if I had deceived you about the real reason
I had married you?”

“Amanda—”

“It’s
important, James.”

Her
voice was drowsy now as though sleep were creeping up on her, and
that as much as anything emphasized the intimacy of their situation.
He wished she would let him hold her, to reassure her if nothing
more—maybe to reassure himself.

“I
would feel as you feel, deceived, angry…” he swallowed,
“hurt.”

“What
would you do?”

“I
haven’t a clue.” And that was the absolute truth.

The
silence that followed continued for so long, James decided she must
have fallen asleep. Just as he closed his eyes again, she spoke.

“Thank
you,” she whispered.

James
came up on his elbow and glanced over his shoulder at her. Amanda
still lay on her back, eyes closed, hands laced primly over her
breasts. The oil lamp’s flickering light caught the glimmer of
one lone teardrop as it slid down the side of her face and into her
hair.

James
was undone. Then and only then did he finally understand how much his
lie had cost her. He had thought to mend the rift between them
quickly, encouraged by her effort to reign in her anger. She had been
pleasant tonight, cordial. What she truly felt went much deeper,
which made that effort all the more admirable.

He
laid his head back down, humbled. Regardless of their bargain, he
must employ patience, a difficult task for a man who was not patient.
But Amanda had proven herself a woman without spite, merely trying to
accept a painful lesson she did not deserve. Pushing her would be
unfair.

What
worried him was that they would not make any progress if he did not
insist, that taking time would merely turn them into polite strangers
who never bonded. Perhaps their bargain gave him some latitude.
Perhaps he could take their relationship step by step, enticing her
into each new phase, until they came together as a husband and wife
should. And perhaps, just perhaps, along the way he could convince
her of how he really felt. Somewhat mollified by his reasoning, he
finally slept.

Toward
dawn James climbed beneath the covers, as the room had grown chilly.
He checked on Amanda. She was asleep, her breath coming in soft, even
puffs. Reassured, he closed his eyes again.

***

Amanda
awoke, coming to consciousness slowly. Something was wrong. Her room
was not her room, the bed not her bed. And she was constrained as if
wrapped in—!

The
air caught in her throat. James was pressed against her back, mouth
next to her ear, one leg thrown over her hip. Sometime during the
night he must have crawled under the blankets for warmth. It was as
cozy and seductive—and unsettling—a moment as any she had
ever experienced.

For
several minutes she lay very still, enjoying the closeness, the feel
of a very masculine body next to her own. His breath tickled her
neck, and one of his hands gently held her upper arm. It was heavenly
and arousing and—oh, what woman admitted to that?

Amanda
decided she ought to move, but how to do so without waking him? Her
quandary became a moot point because all at once she knew he was
awake. She sensed it in the sudden tension of his hand, the thumping
of his heart through his chest wall—the swelling of his organ
against her backside.

For
the life of her she could not move, and knowing the closeness had
affected him as well sent a thrill of pleasure through her own loins.
Lord, how was she to keep him at bay when it was the last thing she
wanted?

She
felt his thumb stroke her arm, a gentle caress as if that was the
only intimacy he was allowed. He took a deep breath, his chest
expanding against her back then eased away from her to sit on the
side of the bed. James remained there for some time, she suspected
gaining his wits, before he rose and changed his clothes. Amanda
heard the door open and close.

She
waited until she was certain he was not coming back then threw off
the covers. She didn’t know how long he would be gone, and she
wanted to dress before he returned. Amanda wished she could bathe but
decided against it, as her maid was not here to help her. Leaving
Betty to follow later had seemed sensible at the time of their
departure since it was only a two-day journey by carriage to
Lonsdale. The rain had highlighted the flaw in that plan.

BOOK: In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4)
11.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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