22
He was sittingat his desk when she woke up several hours later. Shirtless, barefoot, dressed only in black trousers, he played solitaire in the muted morning light. She studied his sharp profile in silence.
How cruel of him to have introduced her to carnality and then sit down to a game of cards while she slept off the excess of their wedding night.
“I envy your ability to concentrate,” she said from the bed, swallowing to ease the tightness in her throat.
He swiveled around from his desk. His eyes made a long assessment of her person, or what he could perceive of it behind her screen of bedding. She was not certain he’d left her with any secrets to hide. He owned her after last night.
“I’ve lost a dozen times in a row,” he admitted.
“I’ve brought you bad luck?”
He tossed down his cards, stood, and came to the side of the bed. “I’ve won what matters -- do you always look this appealing in the morning?”
“You are an engaging sight yourself, shaven and half-attired. I do need a bath.”
He hovered between the bedposts. “Why? I find your ravished appearance more arousing than I should confess. I’ve seen you in worse condition.”
“Do not remind me.”
His mouth thinned into a smile. In a certain light he could look cold, even detached. But then she had always struggled to guess what he was thinking. Did he rue his choice? Did she?
Her body felt no regret.
Her heart felt blissfully free.
“You aren’t ashamed of what we did, are you?” he asked, lowering himself to the bed.
“No.” His nearness discomposed her senses. She ran her hands through her tangled black curls. “I wonder how Isolde fared in her country escapade. I could use her help right now. She has guided me through more than a few misadventures that resulted in untidy hair.”
“But right now you’re all mine.” He settled his shoulders back against the carved mahogany headboard. “I’m happy to serve in her place. Show me where to begin.”
“I’ll comb it in a while. Don’t you try.”
She looked away to hide her thoughts. He was too close, too potently male, too self-possessed to contend with first thing in the morning. Especially this morning. She felt exposed, muddled, and yet somehow glorious. “How did this happen to us, Simon?”
He shook his head in apology. “We have a long time to work it out. But I couldn’t have imagined any better start than last night. Could you?”
She sighed. “I could never have imagined most of what went on in this room.”
“Never? Not even once when we were at the castle?”
She shook her head slowly. “Did you?”
“Not if you didn’t,” he said prudently.
She grinned. “Did you?”
“I’ve said enough.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
He turned onto his side, drawing her against him until she heard the beat of his heart. “It was good, wasn’t it?”
“You know the answer to that,” she said, and blushed again. “You look so refreshed that I am envious. I feel wilted in comparison. I insist on a bath.”
“As you command.”