That was the word he was scandalized by?
Footsteps up the stairs startled her back over to her bed, and she tucked the slip of paper into her book. A knock on the door brought a maid with a tray of dinner.
“Your husband said you might like to eat up here?” she said, phrasing it as a question.
Harriet nodded and thanked the woman, who brought the tray directly to the bed. A luxury she’d never enjoyed before in her life. She owned that it was rather enjoyable. After the hearty stew and warm bread, Harriet cleared the tray to the floor and unpinned her hair, sighing with the satisfaction of letting it down. Then she leaned back with the dreadfully dull book on agriculture and nodded off within minutes.
She woke again an indeterminate time later when the door creaked open. It was much darker now; almost no light was coming in through the windows.
“Sorry to wake you,” Alexander whispered.
“It’s quite all right. I can’t believe I fell asleep so early.”
He sat to remove his boots. “Would you like help out of your dress?”
Harriet looked down at herself as if remembering the fact of the garment. “Oh yes, I suppose I should.”
She tossed the quilt off and stood groggily. He met her by the bed, and she turned, facing her back to him. He swept her hair out of the way and the momentary touch sent tingles along her spine. Her breasts drew into stiff peaks, although she told herself that it must have been the cold.
Alexander began unbuttoning. She shivered as his knuckles brushed along her bare neck as he went. “Cold?”
A lifetime of being trained not to complain had her answer: “I’m fine.”
“You have gooseflesh,” he said, over her shoulder. Harriet whirled around.
“I beg your pardon?!” He was insulting her! On their wedding night?
She registered a small moment of shock in his eyes before they crinkled with his laughter. His whole body shook. She’d never seen him laugh so hard. He could barely speak. Surely he wasn’t this cruel?
“Harriet! Harriet, no. It’s … it’s a word for … Harriet,” he tried to explain, gathering himself together. “It’s a word for when your skin gets like this.” He reached out for her arm and traced a finger along it. “You see? How the hair stands up and there are little bumps? It’s like a plucked goose, I suppose. You haven’t heard the term before?”
Harriet could hardly think. She looked from where his thumb was still tracing the skin on her arm up to his eyes, which were warm and kind. Although still full of mirth at her expense.
“I promise you, it’s a real word! You can add it to your dictionary!”
Normally, she felt certain that handsomeness was a blight on trustworthiness. But the mirth in his dark eyes and his breathtaking smile easily overcame her reservations. She decided to believe him.
She turned back around and let him finish unbuttoning her. On the final button, his knuckle grazed her spine, and she shivered again.
“Get under the covers, you fool!” he teased, releasing her dress and guiding her toward the bed. Whatever tension had stretched between them today seemed to have melted away. Harriet scrambled out of her open dress and pulled Giuliana’s tight chemise over her head. Only once she was in bed did she realize she hadn’t asked him to face away while she changed.
He followed quickly after in only his shirt. Harriet made little effort to avert her gaze from his muscled calves and bare feet. Would it always be such a shock to see a man in this state?
A chill swept over her as Alexander peeled back the covers and climbed in. She rubbed her feet together to warm herself.
“Put them on me,” he offered.
“What?”
“Your feet, you can warm them on me. On my legs,” he added at her look of confusion.
Harriet was not in the position to decline any offer of warmth. She pressed her ice-cold toes to his legs and he let out a hiss. She yelped in surprise and snatched them away.
“It’s fine; put them back. Just a little cold.”
“Really?” Harriet squinted at him in suspicion.
“Positive.”
