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‘How can it not?’
‘Because I don’t care about things like that. You were sick and you needed my help so I gave it.’ She felt the bed shift as he lay down beside her. ‘You’re still as beautiful now as the first day I saw you.’
‘Liar!’
‘I was referring to inner beauty. That never dims, not according to the poets anyway.’
‘Oh...’ She twisted her head to one side. ‘Maybe I’m more vain than I realised.’
‘I won’t tell anyone.’
She sniffed. ‘In that case, do you think maybe myself and my inner beauty could have a bath?’
‘I think that could be arranged.’ He pressed his lips lightly against hers before leaping up and heading for the door. ‘Then you need to eat. It’s about time we had our wedding breakfast.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Just a few more mouthfuls.’
‘No more!’ Henrietta protested as Sebastian pushed his own, barely touched bowl of soup across the table towards her. ‘I’ve had plenty.’
‘Are you sure?’ He gave her an appraising look and then relented. She was looking almost like her old self again, he thought, her still-damp hair trailing over the front of her nightgown in silken coils as she sat by the fire in their chamber. Altogether too much like her old self, tempting him to forget that she was still weak and recovering. Both his thoughts and eyes already kept straying dangerously close to the bed, which had been stripped and then remade with fresh sheets, but it was much too soon to even consider anything like that.
He couldn’t forget how frightened he’d been just two days before, acutely aware of her breathing, of every soft inhalation and whisper of sound that passed her lips. He’d been terrified that the fever might attach to her lungs. His whole world had seemed to contract to that one bedchamber and the woman inside it.
‘Sebastian?’
‘Mmm?’
‘You look tense.’
‘Do I?’ He shook his head quickly. ‘It’s been a worrying couple of days, that’s all. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’
‘So am I. We can probably make a start back to Yorkshire tomorrow.’
‘No.’ He intended to stand firm on this point. ‘Not for another day at least. I don’t want you falling sick again.’
‘I’m sure I won’t.’
‘I’m still not risking it.’
‘Well, I’m not staying in bed all day tomorrow. How will I pass the time?’ She gave him a pointed look that turned suddenly speculative. ‘You know, you look different with a beard.’
‘I ought to shave.’
‘Do you have to? I quite like it.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes.’ Her expression turned faintly mischievous. ‘You look like a pirate.’
‘You know, that really isn’t a compliment for a naval officer.’ He rubbed a hand over his jaw with a grimace. ‘Have you met many pirates?’
‘None that I’m aware of, but it’s how I imagine a pirate might look. And I do mean it as a compliment.’
She tipped her head to one side and then sat forward, her eyes glittering with an expression he’d never seen in them before. It wasn’t one he recognised either, or at least not exactly. It seemed to be playful and inquisitive and sultry all at the same time, each one of which made him feel at least ten degrees hotter.
‘Can I touch it?’
