Page 63 of Sinfully Daring

She darted a sideways look at him, her cheeks pink. “Have I shocked you?”

He shook his head. “No,” he murmured unsteadily. “I just… I still can’t believe it, that you’re really my wife. This is too extraordinary to be real. How can I be this lucky after everything that’s happened? Rosamund, I am living in constant terror of waking up and discovering it was all a dream.”

“Not a nightmare?” she asked him, her voice quiet as she trailed her hand over the ornately carved bedpost.

“There have certainly been nightmarish moments. You know that as well as I, but this is beyond my wildest dreams, for I would never have allowed myself to imagine such a gift as you.”

She smiled at that and turned to face him. “I’m real, and… and I cannot deny I am nervous, afraid even.”

“Of me?” he asked in alarm.

“No! Oh, no,” she said at once, shaking her head vehemently. “No, I’m not afraid of you. I just… I don’t want to disappoint you. You told me how difficult such things were with—”

She clamped her mouth shut, obviously as reluctant for that name to be spoken in this room tonight as he was. Sebastian’s heart ached that she should worry about it for his benefit. “There’s no need to worry about that.”

She sent him an anxious glance. “Isn’t there? I just so want things to be good between us.”

“Then they will be,” he said simply. “Because that is what I want too.”

He closed the gap between them and pressed a kiss to her mouth. He did not linger, did not dare kiss her more than once, for his desire for her was becoming difficult to manage. “Take your bath, love. I’ll see you when you’re ready and we’ll talk more.”

Rosamund nodded and moved to the connecting door to the bathing room, though he was pleased when she stopped and looked back at him, seeming as reluctant to leave him as he was to let her go.

Rosamund returned to the bedroom an hour later, dressed in a simple white cotton nightgown which she had fretted was not at all the thing for her wedding night. Her mother, however, had only given a soft laugh and told her to stop being foolish.

“If Lord Hargreaves’ jaw does not hit the floor upon seeing you, he is not the man I think he is,” she had said with a laugh.

Rosamund had exclaimed with shock at her mother’s words, though they’d had the desired effect, for she’d felt reassured… until now. Alone in the bedroom, she waited for him. With nothing else to occupy her, she sat down at the dressing table and began brushing out her long hair until she heard the door open on the far side of the room.

In the looking glass she saw him then, standing barefoot in the doorway. He wore a dark blue banyan and, as was clear from the triangle of skin exposed beneath his throat, nothing else. Rosamund swallowed as a knot tangled in her belly and a combustible mix of excitement and nerves fizzed in her veins.

He closed the door behind him and came closer, moving slowly as if he feared she might bolt at any moment. Foolish man. She might be anxious and embarrassed, but she was going nowhere.

“My word,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her hair with a reverent hand. “You are lovelier than I dreamed possible.”

Rosamund set down the brush and turned on the stool to look at him. “Thank you.”

He put his hand out, and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “Would you be comfortable sitting on the bed with me? If not, we could—”

“That would be fine,” she said quickly, not wanting him to talk himself out of it.

He grinned then, a quick, boyish expression that made him look far younger and made her heart glad. It was so good to see him smile.

A moment later and they sat side by side, propped up by pillows, their legs stretched out in front of them. Rosamund stared at his legs, or at least what was visible beneath his robe. They were long and powerful and covered with dark hair. The urge to stretch her foot out and slide it along his calf to see how it felt was intense, but she resisted.

“It’s been quite a day,” Sebastian said, his tone wry.

Rosamund laughed. “That it has.”

The tension between them eased a little and they talked, hesitantly at first. Rosamund asked him where they would live, listening with rapt attention as he described the properties he owned. They spoke about their childhoods, about their hopes for the future, about the possibility they might have children of their own.

“A girl,” Sebastian said in answer to her question. “An heir would be a fine thing, but I never want you to feel you must provide one. I have a cousin who will be delighted to inherit, and I want only for you and any children to be happy and healthy. That will be more than I ever thought I would have. It is more than enough.”

Rosamund smiled, and Sebastian reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one, and then her palm before setting it upon his chest.

“Can you feel my heart thudding?” he asked.

Rosamund nodded, feeling the steady beat beneath her hand.