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“Only if you wish it. We can spend as long as you like, getting to know each other, before we… Some men would demand it, but given the circumstances of our marriage, perhaps some time would be better for both of us – almost, a period of courtship?”
It was what she had wanted – so why did she suddenly feel disappointed?
“I think that is probably best.”
He rose, and held out his hand.
“Then let me show you our suite of rooms, and you can choose the sleeping arrangements which might suit you best.”
She took his hand, twining her fingers through his, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He lifted the candle with his other hand, and led her from the room, through the darkened hallways, and up to the next floor.
The door he finally opened let into a small parlour, with doors opening on both sides of it.
The room was beautiful, even though it was small, its walls painted a simple cream, and the chairs upholstered in a blue as dark as his eyes, which was also matched by a fine carpet on the floor.
“This is lovely!”
“I think so – I am glad that you agree. Come,” he tugged her gently to the left-hand door, “the rooms on this side are yours – there is a dressing room over there,” he had opened the door, and pointed across the room, “and beyond it is your maid’s room, which has a separate door into the servants’ hallway. And over here,” he turned her back the other way, “that door near the window opens directly into my rooms – that is why the little parlour has no window – it thereby allows this piece of wall to exist, and this door. You may, of course, redecorate this room as you wish – but I would ask that you not choose anything green, if you do so.”
Iris studied the space, which was also decorated in shades of blue and cream. It was a restful room, with a dresser, a large mirror, an escritoire, and two beautiful armchairs set before the fireplace. On the dresser, her own hairbrush and small personal belongings waited for her. The large window would, she thought, give a view to the back of the house – where there was most likely a garden.
“I have no wish to change it – it is beautiful as it is.”
Something very like relief flashed across his face.
“Now let me show you my rooms.”
He walked to the connecting door and opened it. The room they stepped into was twin to the one they had just been in, as far as colours and the position of everything, but the few items scattered about were obviously those of a gentleman.
“This room is also beautiful – you have fine taste in furnishings.”
“I had these rooms redecorated after my father’s death. Mother moved into another suite immediately, unable to face the memories that these rooms contained. Now, she spends the majority of her time at Greenleigh Park, anyway. So I had them redone to be as different as possible, and soothingly plain.” He hesitated a moment, then turned, pulling her to face him. “I leave it to you whether you choose to sleep in the bed in the other room, or to join me in this one – for just sleep, until such time as you wish more than that. I… I hope that you might join me, for the simple comfort of warmth, if nothing more.”
There was a catch in his voice, and a spark of hope caught within her – did he actually care, after all? Was that a need for her presence that she heard implied in his words? Or was that simply wishful thinking on her part?
The very idea of lying in a bed, right next to a man – and a man who had the intense effect on her that this man did – set her heart pounding. Yet they were married, and this should be an ordinary event – perhaps one day it would seem so, but at present, it seemed some strange admixture of scandalous and deliciously exciting. Could she? Could she actually do that, and… believe that they would do nothing more, at least for now?
And truly, would she actually object, if something more came of it? She was beginning to suspect that she would not…
>>>
Leon waited, almost quivering with the uncertainty of the moment. What would she say? And if she agreed to sleep in his bed, would he be able to hold to what he had offered, and do no more than gently kiss her goodnight? He would do his damnedest, for he wanted nothing between them but kindness, and hopefully love. The moment when she was told of Maggie’s existence, when she met his sister, would test that enough, without him doing anything to strain the situation first. But, he admitted to himself, he wanted to do more, far more, than kiss her.
That she was now his wife did not make him feel entitled to demand anything of her, even though the law gave him that right – asking her to cope with the existence of his sister, and to keep the family secrets was enough to demand.
She gazed at him with those sky-blue eyes, and expressions slipped across her face in quick succession – expressions which heated and chilled him with equal rapidity. He had to believe that, for a moment, he had seen desire there. She licked her lips, and he wanted to kiss her again, to trace the shape of her mouth with his tongue, to taste her.
“Yes. I… I will join you in your bed. I think that your company will make it easier for me to adjust to a house which is strange to me, yet which is now to be my home.”
His heart lifted at her words. Perhaps he was far luckier than he deserved, and she did truly care for him, at least a little, beyond the connection which music had wrought for them. He knew so little of her, but instinct said that she was kind, that she would treat the staff well, and that there was at least a chance that her kindness might be capable of extending to Maggie too.
He would find out soon enough – they were to go to Greenleigh Park in two days’ time, once she’d had a little time to adjust.
“Thank you.”
Despite his best intentions, he cupped her cheek, and brought his lips to hers. It was the briefest, fleeting kiss, but it contained all he was beginning to feel for her, and all of his hopes for the future. They drew apart again, and her eyes glittered, as if with unshed tears.
“We will find our way, Leon…”
