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“I can assure you he does not.” Kitty giggled. She looked off, her mouth pinching for a moment before her gaze went to Anna. “I have known few people as kind and as brave—and as sincere—as your husband.” She paused again, that intensity in the back of her blue-green eyes growing deep. “He loves you, Anna. Of that I am certain.”
The knife nearly slipped from Anna’s fingers. Loves me? Curling like smoke from a candle, the words washed over her, but she refused to allow the longing to imprint on her soul. Quickly regaining herself, Anna took the knife once again, feigning indifference. “How do you know such a thing?”
“’Tis hardly a secret.” Kitty’s expression bowed into a playful scowl. “Do not tell me you cannot see it?”
Anna continued to cut, wishing she could finish the infernal task so the conversation could at least turn to the meal. “He has…he has been more than good to me. If he looked at me as only his helpmeet, a sister even, I should be happy.”
A laugh burst through the room and Anna turned.
Kitty shook her head. “Sisterly feelings are what he carries for me, dear friend. A man who sees a woman as a sisterly figure would not kiss her—not the way he has kissed you.”
Heat burned through Anna’s cheeks. “Well, I suppose a man does have…urges, does he not?”
“Your husband is hardly the kind of man to exercise his rights as a husband simply to ease some natural need.”
Anna stared at the half-prepared lamb leg when the truth started fumbling from her lips. “I love him, Kitty, so desperately that I fear I cannot even allow myself to believe he cares for me as well. For if I ever learn that he does not, it shall pain me more than I can endure.”
“I promise you, he does care for you. Deeply.” Kitty stood and rested a hand on her shoulder. “He would give his life for you, Anna.”
Anna shook her head with a quiet laugh. “Such a romantic thing to say.”
Kitty pulled back, as if she were struck by the words. “Aye, romantic indeed, and equally true.”
By now the heated longing Anna had fought singed upon the fleshy center of her soul, and she was helpless to remove the scars. She groaned, resting the knife upon the table. “I wish it were so. He kissed me once…” Her mind caressed the tender memory, yearning to relive the pleasures of all they had shared. “Though he continues his kindness, he hasn’t appeared at all interested in revisiting such intimacies.”
Kitty rested her palms on the table and leaned forward. “Then we must assure him of what he is missing.”
“I fear a meager dish will do little to entice him.” A soft laugh breathed from Anna’s chest. “Nay, Kitty, let us forget we ever spoke of it and—”
“What gown will you be wearing?”
Anna frowned. “You mean this evening? I planned to wear the gown you gifted to me for our wedding.”
“You mean the one you wore when speaking vows? ’Tis lovely indeed, but…” Kitty’s mouth twisted to the side, before the spark in her eye lit her face like a bonfire. “I have another you must wear. A gown so striking he shall not be able to take his eyes from you.” Kitty rested one elbow on the table, the other at her hip. “Awaken his yearning for you until he can no longer resist.” Her voice trailed off as she lowered her chin.
The room suddenly heated. “I do not wish him to think I’m enticing him for something I shouldn’t.”
“You are his wife are you not?” Leaning closer still, Kitty’s voice lowered so not even the chopped lamb could bear witness. “Why should you not entice him? Let him ache for you by night’s end.”
A delightful spray of flutters tickled Anna’s chest.
Kitty’s eyes sparkled. “A brush of the hand, a whispered word, a look of longing.” She moved nearer. “Make him know you want him, and he will be helpless against his need for you. He already feels it. ’Tis your turn now to let him know you do as well.”
Like the fire that sparked behind her, tiny bursts of excitement popped within her chest, but her heart refused to allow the sparks to flame. “You believe so?”
Straightening, Kitty grinned. “I know it, dear Anna. I know it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sun had gone to rest an hour past. William looked back to the bedchamber door, still closed with Anna inside. The clock struck six and he looked to the fire where savory aromas drifted from the pot hovering over the embers, making his stomach growl and mouth water.
He tapped his fingers against h
is leg. She wasn’t one to be late. Was she ill again? William fought the temptation to trespass against her privacy. She’d eaten so little of late. And knowing she’d cast up the small portion of her mid-day meal forced worry up his spine.
The Watsons had expected them by now, but he wouldn’t rush her. If she didn’t appear in another five minutes, he would enter whether she was dressed or not. The tempting thought brought a pleasant heat to his chest. Privacy. He huffed at his foolishness. Why he still allowed her to dress alone he didn’t know. He tapped his fingers again. Nay, he did know, but refused to admit the truth of it. Seeing her shape beneath her chemise, watching her remove her dress and stays was too much for him. He needed to keep a safe distance, which he had done remarkably well—and would continue to do, as long as he had strength. Which he must do even more now than he had before. Until tomorrow has passed…
He rubbed his forehead, recalling the meeting he’d had with Warren not five hours past. God had known indeed who to trust, and why. Samuel was Anna’s brother indeed—and Warren her true father. The dust of such a revelation still floated in the air, catching the light as it drifted ever so slowly to the ground. She needed to know of this, both for herself and for Warren. And what better man to trust with her care than the one who had always wished to protect her. He exhaled slow, remembering again Warren’s humble vow. I will not let Paul come within her reach. When you are safe, find me, and I will return her to you.
