“Caughtyou?”
“Doing something I ought not…”
“Something?”
“With Adrian, undoubtedly.” By her expression, he gathered that, this time, she had not missed his near slip. “Whatever the crime, the punishment Sarah extracted for keeping her silence was brushing. Forcing her indignant little brother to play lady’s maid was, apparently, a temptation too great to resist.”
Cassandra chuckled.
“But brushing your hair”—he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her crown—“would be no punishment.”
Hesitantly, his wife relinquished the brush. He lifted a lock from her shoulder and began gently working the brush through to the ends.
“Youdoknow what you’re doing.”
“Perhaps you should trust me more often.”
“Perhaps.” She closed her eyes. Gradually, the tension drained from her shoulders. “Why do you hesitate so often when you speak of your youth?”
The brush hit a snarl, and he concentrated on untangling her hair rather than answering her question.
“There can’t be anything in your past I would not wish to know,” she added.
He met her gaze in the mirror. “Are you sure?”Even the bad parts? Even the embarrassing parts? Even the parts that might hurt you?
“Yes.” She straightened. “Of course.”
“Your desire to know me means the world to me, Cassie.”
Her gaze went warm and soft yet again.
How could he ever believe the overwhelming feelings she inspired would make him weak, when she looked at him with such tenderness in her eyes? His desire to keep Cassandra safe and whole didn’t lessen him as a man, his desire—hiscommitment—made him strong. Strong enough to move mountains.
And wanting Cassandra had never been a betrayal of Viv.
Vivianne had been a raging torrent. In her presence, all he could do was keep from capsizing.
Cassandra, on the other hand, was a lifeline, a rope sailors used to save lives, with a subtle but consistent pull. Where the line might take him, he didn’t know.
But he would risk everything to find out.
Yes, he still felt fear, but not the same kind of fear.
The danger here was real. This time, if he gave free rein to his feelings, Cassandra would not become some youthful, romantic attachment.
She would become his very heart.
*
After their firstnight of true passion, Cassie and her husband—she could truthfully call himhusbandnot just in word, but in actual deed—passed the next few weeks in idyllic pleasure. Harbury took up residence in her bed and showed no inclination to return to his own. He helped her finish the library reorganization, worked with her until she mastered driving the cart. And, best of all, their shared days bled into amorous nights…
Mercy, of course, was wreaking havoc on the household, but Mercy was a puppy. Chaos was expected. Unexpected, however, was the way Harbury was gazing at her right now—as if he’d grant her any wish she asked.
Which, at the moment, was another sausage.
A footman interrupted their breakfast to deliver a letter dispatched from the Townsend farm and addressed to her.
“You’re obviously excited.” Harbury smiled fondly. “Open it now if you wish.”
