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Chapter Twenty-Four
“I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time with you today,” murmured Dominic drowsily. He was lying naked in bed, sated and curled beneath the tousled covers with an equally naked Artemis in his arms. The incessant rain had stopped, and the only sounds in Artemis’s bedroom were the faint tick of the mantel clock, the crackle of the fire, and the soft sound of Artemis’s breathing. Indeed, at this late hour—almost midnight—the whole of Ashburn Abbey seemed hushed and asleep.
For a moment, he wondered if Artemis had fallen asleep too, but then she murmured, “That’s all right. I know how busy you are.”
Dominic sighed, and his voice was as bleak as the moorland beyond Ashburn’s grounds as he said, “No. It’s not all right.” It was dark when he’d returned to the abbey, and because he’d attended to a few telegrams and letters about pressing business matters, he hadn’t seen Artemis until dinnertime.
And then, of course, Horatia had been present. Ordinarily, he’d welcome his sister’s congenial company, but throughout the dinner service, all he could think about was spending time alone with Artemis and what he would do with her. How he’d dismiss all of the servants and then make wild love to her on the very table. Or on the rug before the fire. Or on one of the settees in the adjoining drawing room. His desk in the library.
There would be time to make love in all of those places, and more, if they married. And he could talk with her for hours, whenever he wanted to, wherever he wanted to, without having to worry about bloody chaperones and “appearances.” Stealing in and out of her bedroom in the dead of night like he was some sort of sneak thief in his own home was becoming old very quickly. He wanted Artemis in his bed—or better yet, a bed that they could call theirs—every single night.
Dominic suppressed a sigh because there was no guarantee they would wed, was there? Artemis was as skittish as a cat on a hot bakestone whenever he mentioned their future.
Although right at this moment, she was more like a coquettish kitten. “You’ve more than made up for your absence,” she purred as she playfully scraped her nails over his chest.
Dominic caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “You make light of the situation, but the plain, cold truth is, I do neglect those who I care about most in this world.”
Artemis raised her head and scowled. “Dominic Winters, you arenotneglectful.”
“It’s very gracious of you to defend the indefensible, but you’re wrong. Take Celeste, for instance. I’ve ignored her isolation and failed to fix her situation for so long, it almost ended in disaster. And in my quest to hide from the past, I’ve forgotten to take care of myself. I’ve buried myself in work at the expense of everything and everyone else. I certainly haven’t done enough to clear my name. Simply ignoring my brother-in-law’s concerted smear campaign—hoping it will all just eventually go away—hasn’t done me any favors.
“But that’s about to change and it’s all because of you, Artemis.” Dominic raised himself onto one elbow and cupped her face. “You’ve changed me. You’ve made me see things so very differently. And I’m nothing but grateful.” He leaned in and kissed her with lingering tenderness, knowing that if he called herloveor said anything more about how much he’d come to care for her, she’d retreat from him. He didn’t want to frighten her away with the strength of his feelings. And theywerestrong. He’d given up trying to deny that she meant so very much to him. He wasn’t sure if the emotion budding inside his chest was lovejustyet, but it was damn close.
Regardless of his burgeoning feelings, he needed to convince Artemis that she could be happy if she chose to marry him. That perhaps this could bemorethan a marriage of convenience. Now, more than ever, he sensed that a softly-softly approach was required to win her. And he had the rest of this week to change her mind. To give her a glimpse of the future thatcouldbe.
“I wouldn’t be such a bad husband, you know,” he said, his tone as light and teasing as he could make it. “Especially now that I’ve come to realize that I need to change my ways and make my family my priority, not estate management, business, and politics.”
To Dominic’s relief, Artemis didn’t drop her gaze from his. Indeed, her eyes were as soft as brown velvet as she murmured, “I’m pleased to hear it, Dominic. But most of all, I’m pleased for Celeste.”
He caught one of her curls and wound it around his finger. “The change you’ve wrought in her in such a short time is nothing short of miraculous, and I’m truly astounded. I’m glad I trusted my instincts about you. The fact that Celeste will now let you use her first name shows how much she likes and respects you. When I visited her room tonight before dinner, I could tell that she’s in much better spirits even though she’s unwell. Again it’s all your doing, Artemis. You’re remarkable.”
A soft pink blush suffused Artemis’s cheeks. “Well, I don’t know about that.”
“Trust me, you are.” And then Dominic kissed her again because he couldn’t help himself. He was beginning to think that even if they shared a lifetime together, he’d never have his fill of her. She was that damn addictive.
***
I wouldn’t be such a bad husband you know…As Dominic kissed her with such sweet and thorough gentleness, Artemis couldn’t help but wonder if he might be right.
But this wasn’t just about forming a union; it was about creating a family and continuing a legacy. And all of those things would affect Artemis’s choices in the future. She might have her college, but she wouldn’t be able to continue to teach, and she may not be able to continue to write if she became the Duchess of Dartmoor. Could she sacrifice those things she held dear for this man? A man who was only now realizing that he often buried himself in work to hold everyone at arm’s length and might do so again and again?
A man whoappearedto be falling in love with her, but there was no doubt in her mind that he’d also constructed defensive walls around his wounded heart to protect it. She should know because she’d been fiercely guarding her own heart for so long too.
He desired her. Helikedher a great deal. Would that be enough for her in the years ahead if he couldn’t offer her love? Could she let herself love him back?
She was nothing but torn. Dominic had been so forthright with her that she felt as though she owed him some sort of explanation as to why she was so circumspect and reluctant to commit to a life by his side.
“You’re probably wondering why I eschew marriage and everything that comes with it,” she said when their kiss ended and she was lying once again in the comforting warmth of Dominic’s arms. “Last night you shared your own past with me. So, because of that, it’s only fair that I tell you about mine. I hope it will help you to understand why I am the way that I am. Why I value my independence and find it hard to believe in love and happy endings.”
“You don’t have to”—he kissed her temple—“if it’s too difficult or painful. I do have an inkling that my scoundrel of a brother-in-law might be involved.”
“No, I want to tell you,” she said firmly. “You deserve to know. And it’s not just Gascoyne who is responsible for my cynical views. In many respects, my parents are to blame too. They were as unhappily married as a couple can be.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “My parents were not unhappy at least. They werecomfortablewith each other. They knew what their duties were and amicably adhered to them, as is often the case with society marriages.” He gave a slight huff as though he were disgruntled. “But now I’ve rudely interrupted you. Please, go on.”
“No, it’s all right,” she said. “I appreciate how candid you are.” Artemis wasn’t sure if Dominic was hinting that he expected their marriage to be like his parents’, but it was something she should take into account—that peers of the realm often wed for convenience alone, and after the heir and the spare were produced, husbands and wives led very separate lives. Dominic had never promised her anything more than that.
Gathering her thoughts again, she continued. “My mother, Clara, and her older sister, Roberta, came from a moderately wealthy family with solid connections. But for some reason I’ve never been able to fathom, my mother chose to marry a genteelly impoverished vicar rather than to pursue a gentleman of rank and wealth. But she was miserable being a vicar’s wife. She was so very intelligent—as smart as ten professors—and she read all the time. And widely. I clearly received my love of books from her.
