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“I shouldn’t.”
“You should,” her oldest sister said firmly. “You scarcely ate a thing this morning.”
Whilst she had been known to restrict her food until she got too hungry and dizzy and decided it was foolish as nothing changed anyway, her lack of appetite had more to do with her night with Cillian. Though he had left her to sleep in the end, he’d held her for some time. They barely spoke and scarcely even kissed. He simply held her, making her aware of his strong, long body that ensured she forgot all the foolish things like whether her thighs were too big or if she should or should not have an extra slice of cake.
She’d simply been too distracted to eat.
“She’s too in love,” Clementine stated as though she were telling everyone it was to rain tomorrow. “I remember not having an appetite either when I first fell for Roman.”
Lilly jumped from the windowsill and came to sit next to Ivy. “Is it true? Has it turned into love already?”
Aware of warmth flooding her cheeks and uncertain of the reason, Ivy looked to her empty plate and dabbed a crumb onto the end of her finger to put it in her mouth. She really wished she had her knitting instead. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the idea of loving her husband. Indeed, she’d vaguely hoped they might at the very least come to respect one another like the marriages of her grandparents and a few others she’d witnessed, but she’d scarcely allowed herself to believe it could turn into love.
Lilly cocked her head as though surveying a mental image of him. “He’s quite handsome in a sort of pirate way.”
“Are pirates handsome?” Violet asked. “I always thought they were rather smelly and full of scurvy.”
“And dangerous,” Clementine added.
“My point still stands.” Lilly lifted a finger. “He’s handsome.” She ticked it off and raised a second. “He’s respectful.” A third finger came up. “He invited Ivy’s awful goat to come and stay who will no doubt escape and eat all of the beautiful gardens here...”
Clementine’s hand shot up. “Do not forget he married her to save her from ruin too.”
“It’s certainly not what I expected for you, Ivy,” Violet confided from the seat opposite, “however, I shall concede he seems to be a good man.”
“He is,” Ivy agreed. “At least—”
Clementine rose swiftly. “At least?”
“At least I believe he is.” Ivy paused and shook her head. “No, Iknowhe is but there are these...troubling rumors.”
“Rumors?” Lilly echoed.
“Troubling?” Clementine said.
“What troubling rumors?” Violet demanded.
Ivy glanced between her sisters. She didn’t keep secrets from her sisters, not exactly, but she could never claim to have been as open with them as they were with her. It simply was not in her nature. For once, though, she needed to unburden herself and get their guidance.
“ Well…” She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “There’s talk of him being a murderer.”
***
Cillian stirred, not certain why he’d awoken but ready within an instant of realizing he’d heard a noise. He rose straight to sitting and lifted his fists. His heart pounded rapidly against his rib cage.
A light tap at his door.
He lowered his fists and shook his head at himself. Marshall hadn’t been spotted since the other week and nothing else had occurred. There was no danger. But waking at the slightest sound ready to fight was a habit he feared he’d never get out of.
The tap repeated.
“Enter,” he said finally after putting his eye patch on.
A slip of light entered the room slowly followed by Ivy. Her hair lay in a braid over one shoulder with a few curls tucked about her face, slightly wild and errant. He noted her bare feet and resisted the urge to leap up and tuck her straight into his bed. The evenings in the house were still cool thanks to thick stone walls and the last thing he wanted was her ailing.
She turned, candle in hand, and shut the door gently then faced him once more. He flexed his fingers into the soft bedding. Did she have any idea how damned beautiful she was? He suspected no. Ivy spent more time caring for others than thinking about her vanity. He’d witnessed as much when watching her with her family and even that awful goat.
He should be grateful not to have a vacuous wife, of course, however a large part of him wished she could see herself as he did all wide eyed and golden in the most perfect bundle of curves and soft skin.
