Page 23 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“Th-Thank you,” she whispered.

“My pleasure.”

She moved away and Rex turned back to the bed, feeling for the covers and tugging them back. He slid underneath them, shivering as the cold sheets touched him. The mattress was predictably lumpy and sagged in the middle, but suddenly Rex was so bloody tired he didn’t give a damn. He closed his eyes, deciding to feign sleep to put Emmeline at ease, and discovering it took no time at all for it to become reality.

Chapter 7

Dear Bella,

How are you, Sis? Rumour has it you’re as big as a house. Don’t tell me it’s twins again? I am uncertain the world is ready for the number of Grenvilles you seem determined to populate it with.

Anyway, it seems an age since I saw you last, and all your various brats. How many are there now? I appear to have lost count. I think I might need a bit of rusticating, and as the next addition to your brood is due in the spring, I thought I might give you the benefit of my delightful self for a few weeks from mid-May through June. There’s no need to thank me, I know you’ll be delighted at the prospect.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Leo Hunt to his sister, The Most Hon’ble Lady Arabella Grenville, Marchioness of Bainbridge (Children of Mr Nathaniel Hunt and Mrs Alice Hunt).

16th of February 1845, Gretna Green.

Emmeline woke with a jolt, disorientated and bleary-eyed. The constant drumming of rain was a soothing sound, lulling her back to sleep, tempting her to ignore the fact that something about the day was most definitely unusual. The bed was deliciously warm too, though the mattress was lumpy, and her pillow remarkably hard… and breathing. The pillow was breathing.

Emmeline sat up with a squeal that startled the man sleeping beside her so that he too sat bolt upright, almost knocking their heads together.

“What? What is it?” he demanded, looking remarkably alert considering.

Emmeline clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling like a prize twit and to smother another squeal as she took in the sight of her husband’s naked chest. Her husband’s. Naked. Chest.

Good heavens.

“Nothing,” she managed, the words smothered by her hand.

“What?”

“N-Nothing,” she tried again, scolding herself for acting like a complete ninny. “I just… I woke up and….”

“And?” he demanded, sounding a little irritable now.

“And I’m not used to doing so in bed with a man. I forgot.”

“You forgot?” he repeated, his tone offended.

Emmeline bit her lip, belatedly realising that sounded rather insulting. “I wasn’t awake, I just….”

“Just?” he pressed, and she struggled to read his expression, but then noticed the way his lips twitched. The devil was laughing at her.

“I’ll get used to it,” she said indignantly. “I was just taken by surprise, that’s all.”

He gave an amused snort and reached behind him to arrange the pillows before sitting back against them. Emmeline stared, seeing no reason not to. They were married; he belonged to her now as much as she belonged to him. A woman could look upon her husband if she wished to, and… oh, she wished to. His chest was a revelation, muscular and strong, with a light scattering of golden hair, broad shoulders and powerful arms completed the picture, or at least the visible half. Emmeline wondered if he’d notice if she lit the lamp to get a better look, for the room was full of shadows, the grey daylight filtering dimly through the thin curtains.

He reached out to the bedside table, gently moving his hand over the surface to find the watch she had put there last night. He opened the casing and touched his fingers to the hands, an expression of concentration on his handsome features.

“It’s not yet seven,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“That’s all right. I don’t sleep late. Not these days, at least. And you, pet? Did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” she admitted.

He nodded, and an uneasy silence settled between them. Emmeline swallowed as she remembered what she’d told him last night, well demanded really. He had agreed they would consummate the marriage this morning. Lud. Well, there was no point in being missish now. It was too early to ask for a bath but there was water and… and they really ought to, well, get on with it.