Cassie peered intothe breakfast room the following morning, disappointed to find only Tull, the footman.Poor man. She hoped she had not kept him waiting for long. She filled her plate, sat down, adjusted her chair, and glanced uncertainly around the room.
Apart from the times when she’d been ill, she’d never taken breakfast alone.
Whatwasthe etiquette?
She sliced her meat and then placed a small piece against her tongue. Yesterday, Harbury’s chewing had roused her ire. Today, her own felt unnaturally loud. She forced herself to swallow. Wherewasher husband?
And why did she care so much?
Ugh.
Her gaze settled on Tull’s distorted figure in the bowed butler’s mirror—a mirror specially fashioned so a table attendant could see everyone present and attend to their needs without being asked.
What a waste of Tull’s time. So silly to keep him standing there when he was unneeded.
Harbury had dismissed him yesterday. Could she not do the same?
She glanced over her shoulder. “You may go.”
He hesitated, his gaze moving uncertainly from the mirror to her own. Yesterday, he’d left immediately. Was he questioning her authority?
She felt her face heat. “I wish to dinealone.”
Her words came out more sharply than she’d intended.
The boy blanched and then quickly left the room. She slumped as far as her half-stays would allow and then dropped her head back against the chair.
How long would it take to become comfortable in her own skin, let alone her own home?
WouldHarbury Hall ever feel like home?
Sighing deeply, she finished her breakfast.
She missed the sounds of her sisters’ chatter. She missed mornings at Willowhurst—at least the mornings when her father had not been present and she, her mother and sisters could prattle on about everything and nothing—neighbors, the weather, tomorrow’s adventures, last night’s dreams.
She set down her fork.
Even if her sisters had been present, she could never reveal the dream she’d had last night.
Not even to Eliza.
In her dream, Harbury had come to her room. Unlike their wedding night, he hadn’t looked discomfited and uneasy, as if he couldn’t bear to see her in the bed instead of his beloved Vivianne. Instead, he’d been decisive and intentional from the moment the door between their chambers clicked open.
Harbury, she’d whispered with sizzling anticipation as he strode across the room.
He arrived at the side of her bed and then fell to his knees, murmuring a heart-rending apology ending withI want you so badly, I simply couldn’t keep away.
She lifted the coverlet. He climbed inside, his body radiating so much heat, the cool, slightly damp room transformed into warmth and comfort. Though his masculine presence was still as much at odds with everything she understood, in her dream, she did not fear him.
First, his lips touched her forehead, just as they had the prior afternoon—an impulsive, intimate gesture. A gesture that shifted her awareness. She no longer perceived the overwhelming contrast between them as strange and uncomfortable, but suddenly understood her softness was the perfect answer to his inordinate strength.
Next, he kissed her properly. Passionately. And then, instead of sweeping his hand over her unspeakable, private place to “check,” he’d not only asked permission, but waited for her to say yes.Yes,to caressing her slowly, intimately until she burned.
But her dream-self felt no embarrassment, only desire. She’d welcomed his weight against her body, his flexed muscles between her limp but trembling thighs. When he entered her, instead of pain, there had been fullness…satisfaction.
In the present, she sighed a little and then smiled.
Surely, such pleasure must be possible beyond fantasy.
