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She shook her head. The thought popped into her head far too often now. It wasn’t logical but it was not necessarily illogical either. Her husband was a busy man and a hardworking one at that. It was most likely the duties of this great estate were eating up his time. Yet Ivy was not ignorant to the many marriages in thetonthat were crowded with other people. When men and women married for status, money or business, they often sought comfort in the arms of others.
What if another woman was comforting Cillian? She had no idea what his life had been like before he’d swooped in to rescue her. For all she knew, he was in love with someone else and had perhaps even considered marrying another woman. At least the very least, a man like Cillian would have a lover surely?
“No.”
She couldn’t allow her mind to follow that path. Not again. It would do her no good.
Nor would it do her knitting any good apparently. She lifted it to the light of the window and scowled at the dropped stitch.
“Blast.”
“Something the matter?”
“Oh.” The knitting fell from her hands to the floor as Cillian appeared in the doorway.
He covered the distance between them in a few long strides and picked up the knitting before she could bend and grab it. As he handed it over, their bare hands brushed, and she noted the slight chill in his fingertips and the dirt under his nails. Whatever he’d been doing, surely he could not have been with a lover? No woman would want cold, muddy hands upon her.
Though the image that flew through her mind of his fingers upon her skin leaving little marks made her doubt that conclusion.
“I dropped a stich that’s all.”
Cillian cocked his head. “What are you making?”
“A blanket.”
“For the cats?”
“Yes,” she lied. They would only get their claws stuck in such a blanket, but she couldn’t explain she was knitting one to stop herself from having a good, hearty cry.
She couldn’t tell him how lonely she felt.
“How are they?”
“Perfectly well thankfully.”
If the cats had even ingested any of the garlic, her concoction had saved them from any ill effects. However, the fact that someone would wish to try to harm them left her feeling on edge. She checked their food every day now and would not leave until she had seen them eat it, untouched by anyone but her.
“Shah is convinced the culprit was not from the house.”
“Perhaps it was someone mischief making, but it’s a cruel trick indeed.”
“I’ve asked the footman and gardeners to keep a closer eye on the grounds.”
Ivy swallowed. Now was her chance. All she had to do was ask him to sit. Maybe even ring for tea. They could be most civilized indeed.
If only she was better at actually asking for what she wanted and standing up for herself. The words remained locked in her throat, slowly creating a tangle she feared she’d never unwind.
“I, uh...” Cillian shifted from one foot to the other. “I hope you don’t mind that I missed the morning meal.”
She stared at the knitting. “No, of course not.”
He leaned against the windowsill next to her and Ivy stilled and kept her gaze ahead. Exactly what was going on?
“I will make a better effort so we can spend more time together and, uh, get to know each other better.”
Her next breath shuddered out of her. Did he mean time together ortimetogether? He couldn’t be ignorant to the fact that they had yet to make this marriage official and while she appreciated his patience with her it was beginning to feel like utter rejection. Was she too plump? To inexperienced? Too something else?
“You are very busy,” she said vaguely.
