She propped herself up on her elbow to look down upon his beloved features. “Could I not travel with you? I could order items for the house.”
“I would like to do so…”
“But…” she quipped in irritation. She sat up abruptly. “How is my life here in Ireland any different from what I experienced with my uncle?”
Her husband’s features scrunched up in disapproval. “I would say being the wife of a wealthy earl must be superior to that of what you experienced under Jacob Moran’s roof.”
“Is it?” she accused as she rose to claim her robe. “Tell me how, my lord, for from where I stand, it looks quite the same!”
“I am not about to argue with you,” he said as he crossed to the door leading to his quarters. “Good night, my lady.” He closed the door behind him with a bang.
Instantly, Annalise broke into tears, but she did not follow him or beg for his forgiveness. Instead, she sat in a nearby chair and pulled her legs up to make herself smaller, just as she had done as a child, while living with both Captain Lisey and Jacob Moran. She thought that had ended with her marriage, but, evidently, she must continue to protect herself, for no one else would give a care if she lived or died. “Alone forever,” she murmured as she rocked herself for comfort.
Several hours later, reluctantly, she crawled into her empty bed, where she curled into a ball for both protection from the chill in the air and for comfort. Mrs. Felix found her there the next morning.
“I be sore to disturb you,” the woman said when Annalise dragged herself from her fretful sleep. “You customarily be an early riser.”
Annalise shoved the hair from her face. “I did not sleep well. I apologize for frightening you.”
The woman nodded. “Then I shall begin my day without you.”
“Start, and I shall join you shortly,” she told the woman.
As Mrs. Felix disappeared from the room, Annalise tugged the bed linens higher. Though her heart was breaking, she would continue to perform to Beaufort’s expectations, at least as far as overseeing his grandmother’s house. “The other part of our relationship is still debatable. If I am to perform as a servant or a housekeeper, then there is no reason to perform as a wife.”
“Where be yourmind today?” O’Connor asked with a grin. “You’ve no need of saying. Must be on that pretty wife of yours.”
Beaufort would not speak of his and Annalise’s argument or of the fact he had purposely not awakened Annalise this morning, for he knew her complaints were closer to the truth than he would wish. “I was thinking I should employ someone to teach Lady Beaufort Gaelic. It would make her life easier as my countess. It must be difficult for her to wait for Mrs. Felix to translate her every thought for her. My grandmother often complains about my wife being too English.”
“You had your choice of a hundred Irish lasses,” O’Connor observed, “but none of them stirred your soul. Does Lady Beaufort…” his friend questioned.
“Very much so,” Beaufort admitted, though he did so reluctantly. Such was not a subject he would readily share with anyone, even with his English and Scottish brothers, who knew him better than most, though he suspected Aaran Graham already understood Navan’s need for Annalise in his life.
“Then teach your wife Gaelic and take her to bed regularly. All will be well then,” Medi said with a smile. “Leave your seed in her belly. Have those children you always wanted.”
The idea of Annalise heavy with his child did not frighten Navan as much as he had once thought it would. With a sigh of resignation, he set his mind to be done quickly with his business in Neidín. He had words of apology to speak to his wife.
“What are youdoing?” Annalise demanded of the men doing the plasterwork, but they simply looked at her oddly and pointed to where they were plastering a perfectly good wall.
One of them responded in Gaelic, but she could not understand them any more than they understood her. She motioned for them to wait and rushed away to find Mrs. Felix to translate. She could have asked for Lady Klare’s assistance, but Annalise suspected this mistake was her ladyship’s doing. She found the housekeeper in the room set aside for the women making the new drapes and bed linens. “Ma’am, might you join me on the upper level? There seems to be some confusion on which walls are to be plastered.”
“How can that be?” Mrs. Felix asked, but quickly the truth marched across her features. “Let us reissue our orders.”
Annalise said, “They will likely be required to complete the wall they started, as the finish is now very ragged.”
“If so, we shall be required to send for more plaster powder. There was only enough remaining to repair the room we had indicated.”
Annalise wished to scream her frustrations—wished to confront Beaufort’s grandmother. Instead, she swallowed her anger again. “I shall start another list. Where might we find the additional supplies?”
Mrs. Felix shrugged. “In Neidín, where his lordship has traveled.”
“Then I shall create a list, and we may send someone to carry it to Lord Beaufort,” Annalise declared.
“Such seems the only solution available to us,” Mrs. Felix said with a sad shake of her head in equal frustration.
“Well look whohas finally returned to Neidín,” a dark-haired woman called when Beaufort and O’Connor stepped down from their horses.
Beaufort looked up to view a woman many of the young blades in the area had visited on multiple occasions. He knew he frowned, but he nodded to the woman and stepped around her. O’Connor did the same, but she was not satisfied with their response.
