Page 33 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

There came a sharp rap and the door opened. Blackdown loomed on the threshold in a dressing gown of dark silk, gold vines twining up the sleeves and front. Intriguing curls of dark hair were exposed where it crossed high at the neck. The dim light somehow emphasised the hollows and planes of his face and he looked taller, broader, than usual.

And very male. Her heart picked up speed; he had come to her. Was she trembling with panic, or anticipation? Perhaps a little of each. With a shaking hand, she put down her cup.

He strolled in, seemingly unaware of her reaction. ‘Ah, I see they did provide a cup for me.’

She resisted the temptation to tighten the strings of her dressing gown. She was decently clothed for a person about to retire. As was he, despite his bare calves and large bare feet thrust into dark-blue slippers embroidered with a red crest.

Her pulse raced. Her breathing quickened. She drew in a quick, calming breath and stilled her sudden desire to hide. This was what she had hoped for, after all. He was her husband and this was their wedding night.

Hoping she looked as nonchalant as he, she gestured to a nearby chair. Instead, he sat beside her on the settee, large, warm and overwhelmingly masculine.

Her hand trembled as she poured the tea. ‘Milk and sugar, if I recall correctly?’

‘Yes, please.’

The cup rattled in the saucer when she handed it to him, whereas his hand was as steady as a rock. Blast the man.

‘A biscuit for you, Blackdown?’ she asked. At least her voice sounded normal.

‘Thank you.’ He frowned. ‘Do you think you could call me by my given name, Graydon? Blackdown reminds me too much of my father.’

She could see no harm in it. ‘Very well, Graydon. And I would be happy for you to call me Florence.’

A shy smile briefly curved his lips, or she thought it did. It was gone so fast she couldn’t be positive she had not imagined it. Now she thought about it, he rarely smiled. He seemed to take life very seriously indeed.

She half-turned towards him, her heart pounding…

Graydon cursed himself for a fool. Why had he changed his mind and come to her room tonight? He had decided he would leave her in peace after such a long journey. But, while he had readied himself for bed, he kept imagining her in her room in a strange place, without her family for the first time in her life and…

Well, he had been concerned that she might be homesick. He recalled being homesick, the first time he had left for school, knowing no one and missing his mother.

He had also imagined her alone in that bed with the hangings and curtains he had chosen himself.

Now she gazed at him with eyes as wide as those of a startled deer, as if she feared he would leap upon her and ravish her on the spot. Not that he didn’t want to. The white dressing gown over her low-necked nightdress was some lacy, almost transparent thing that teased him as it clung to her luscious curves and served to emphasise the shadow between her breasts.

His palms tingled with the urge to shape those swells and hollows with his hands. Desire ran hot in his veins. He would not deny he was looking forward to taking his wife to bed.

His wife… He could scarcely believe it. And, despite his reservations and the unpleasantness with her father, he could not help feeling that he had made a good bargain. Far better than he would have expected, given the circumstances of their marriage.

He was looking forward to making her his wife in truth. But every instinct urged him to tread warily. A marriage of convenience was what they had, a purely practical arrangement. And he was no hot-blooded, inexperienced youth who could not control his baser urges.

And she was no innocent maiden. At first, he had been shocked and then angry, not at her, but on her behalf. Her father had let her down and so had the man who had taken advantage of her innocence. But in a way it was a relief to know he was not her first, although he had promised himself he would give her time to get to know him, and to trust him, which judging by their discussion in the carriage she did not.

Nor, despite the heat in his blood and the urgings of his body, would he let passion overrule good sense. He needed to prove to her he was beyond such nonsense. He had merely returned to her room with the intention of making her feel comfortable, welcomed, because he had left her too abruptly earlier.

If he was honest, he’d had to make himself leave and not leap on her like a ravening wolf. Not when she had looked so exhausted, and then there’d been the damned maid lurking about.

He forced himself to speak calmly. ‘Do you have all that you need?’ he asked. ‘Was Tilly to your satisfaction? Mrs Spragg left me a note saying that she assumed you would wish to select a lady’s maid yourself and she hoped the girl she had picked would be suitable in the meantime.’

For a second she stared at him blankly. ‘I… Yes, Tilly was very helpful. I will thank Mrs Spragg in the morning.’

She took a sip of her tea.

He swallowed a mouthful of his.

Another of those awkward silences descended.

‘Did your mother choose the furnishings in this room?’ she said. ‘I have never seen such beautiful fabric.’