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Bridget woke in Harry’s bed again, her arm slowly moving over the empty space to her left where Harry ought to have been had she succeeded the night before. She sat up and inhaled his cinnamon and leather scent that was very much present in the room despite his absence and sighed.
“I wish you would not hide from me, Harry,” she said to herself, moving his thick covers and rising. She was not going to cease her seduction attempts but she would change her manner of approach. She knew to keep away from the patch covering his eye, and after their kiss the night before, she was certain he wanted her.
Bridget would have her husband where he ought to be, in her arms, but only if she was patient.
Feeling a lot better, she walked to the door that led to her chambers and turned to look at the bed. She imagined how disarranged the sheets would have been had they consummated their marriage the night before. Her need began to rise again, and she opened the door and stepped into her bedchamber. She walked to the bellpull and rang for Sarah.
Then she took a seat by her window and stared out of it as she waited for Sarah to arrive. It did not take long for her maid to enter the room, keen and curious.
Her friend immediately knew the night had not gone as planned when she saw Bridget. “I touched his eye patch and ruined it,” Bridget confessed after revealing that they had kissed.
“He kissed you well, did he not?” Sarah asked as she removed three dresses from a wardrobe and held them up. Bridget was seated on the chair in front of the vanity.
The memory sent a shudder through her. She would never forget the taste of his mouth or the hardness of his body. These were memories she wished to relive over and over.
“Bridget,” Sarah called gently, pulling her out of her pleasurable reverie.
“Yes, he did.”
“Then you have nothing to fear. The essential element is present which is his desire for you. With some patience and,” she raised the dresses in her hands, “the perfect dress, you shall have your husband's attentionsandaffections.”
“Yes, patience,” Bridget echoed to remind herself of its importance. “Help me dress, Sarah.” She stood with a smile, anticipation thrilling her.
An hour later, she regarded herself in the tall mirror in her dressing chamber and smiled. Her blue muslin morning frock had a low but decent neckline that was certain to tempt Harry, and her hair was held up by a bandeau with tiny pearls. Her neck was left unadorned so he could kiss it without any distraction.
“Now, go!” Sarah encouraged and she giggled, skipping across the room to the door.
Where is she?
Harry glanced at the door for the fifth time since arriving at the breakfast room, his boot tapping against the carpeted floor. The night before had been a dream, for he had wished to kiss her full, velvety lips from the moment he first saw her. He would never forget how soft she had felt in his arms, how he had nearly lost his mind with need, and how he had planned to worship every inch of her body that night.
She had felt right in his arms, perfect even. But she nearly removed his patch. If she had succeeded and seen the ugliness beneath, he was sure she would not wish for him to touch or kiss her again. To save them both from such an unfortunate occurrence, he had put an end to their intimacy with great effort. And now he was paying the dire price.
He had slept in his study again and returned to his bedchamber at dawn. When he saw her in his bed, he wished for nothing more than to lay beside her. With a soft smile on his lips, he had watched her sigh and turn in his direction, her red curls rolling to cover her face.
His hand moved to sweep them away but he restrained himself. He could not wake her from a slumber as peaceful as the one she appeared to be in. It would be cruel, and she already had many trials, him being the toughest one of them all.
His body hardened for the hundredth time that morning, and he inwardly cursed. He had taken the time to still himself before his morning toilette, hoping it would calm the desire that raged in his veins. He had found some relief, but it had only lasted for five minutes. Perhaps even less because the moment he thought of Bridget, he was undone again.
The servants murmuring their greetings in the hall had him straightening in his chair, and his hand surreptitiously moved under the table to tug at his breeches. Then the hand went up to his cravat to ensure the intricate knot was as it should be. When she appeared in the doorway, his breathing quickened and he slowly rose from his chair when he was sure he was not straining against his breeches.
“By heavens! You look lovely!” Belinda stole his words. He had thought exactly the same except his interjection would have caused both his aunt and wife to blush immeasurably.
If grace and elegance had names, they would be Bridget. Her amber eyes found his, her lips curving into a very pretty smile. It was simple and innocent but it went directly to his manhood, and he stiffened.For heaven’s sake, it was only morning!
She walked toward him, never once breaking their intense gaze, and Harry felt himself moving, meeting her before she even neared the table and taking her ungloved hand.
“Good morning, Bridget.” He kissed her hand, filling his lungs with her alluring musky, floral scent. “I trust you slept well.”
“I did,” she replied pleasantly. “Did you?”
Harry’s smile broadened because he had a rather peaceful night despite sleeping on a sofa in his study. Something had kept the nightmares at bay. “Yes, I slept well.”
“Was it the tea?” she asked as he led her to a seat beside his.
“Likely,” he muttered, drawing a chair for her and retaking his seat once she was settled.
“If you slept well, my dear, then it is surely the tea. I had some, too, and what followed was the most peaceful night,” Belinda said, adding more sugar to her chocolate. Harry wanted to ask her when she had begun taking chocolate with sugar but Bridget’s hand touched his, stealing his attention away.
