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“It’s my name.” He adjusted his eyepatch marginally as the ache from the strap kicked up a notch. “Well, it was. Before my inheritance. I am officially—”
“I know your full title.”
“We are husband and wife now. We should have some familiarity I think.”
Ivy’s eyes were wide when they met his. Her lips parted slightly. It made his mind turn to just how familiar they were to become. It was expected, after all, that they would consummate their marriage, even if they were practically strangers to one another. Given how damned pretty she was, it would be no difficulty on his behalf.
“Cillian,” she repeated softly, and he liked the way his name sounded on her lips too much.
He gave a little nod in return then gestured to the house. “Shall we?”
He grabbed one of the luggage trunks, ignoring the footman’s startled expression. Whilst he had working arms and legs, he couldn’t sit idle. Besides, it gave him something to do other than picture removing the fichu from his wife’s neck and pressing kisses down to her generous cleavage.
Ivy paused to bend and sniff a rose. The wind blew her bonnet from her head, leaving it hanging from its ribbons while her fair curls ruffled about pink cheeks.
His comment of needing a wife had been no lie. Someone sweet and lovely might make a difference when dealing with the frosty staff and tenants at Charington House and running such a house was a second job on its own. Once Ivy had it in hand, he could focus on ensuring the estate kept itself again.
He just never anticipated having someone quite so sweet and lovely as his bride.
Her dress fluttered about her legs, clinging to the generous curve of her rear.
Cillian groaned.
Chapter Four
Wind buffeted the window of the bedroom, making the glass rattle. If Ivy wasn’t careful, her teeth would rattle too. She clenched her teeth tightly together whilst the maid aided her in removing her gown and stays. A fire roared in the grate and though the house suffered from being so exposed to the coastal weather, she felt no draughts or whispers of a cold breeze slipping through the window edges or under doors.
The blame for her chattering teeth and shivering body lay entirely at the feet of this night.
Her first night with Cillian.
Cillian. She rolled the name around her mind experimentally. It felt so intimate, so informal. He was not wrong, she supposed. She could hardly keep thinking of him as The Viscount, however, she was not certain she was ready to think of him as anything else.
Of course, they were going to be more than intimate tonight. It was, after all, their first night as a married couple. To ensure the legality of their marriage, the deed would have to be done.
The trembling in her hands increased and she wound them tightly together then stared at the painting of a bouquet sitting above the fireplace. No doubt, she’d been put here because it was the most feminine of the rooms. She’d prefer paintings of horses galloping across the countryside or even a portrait of a little girl with kittens in her lap. She wrinkled her nose and tried to find something that was not flowers. Even the armoire had flowers carved into the wood.
It didn’t matter, though. She wasn’t even certain why she was fixating on such a thing. They were to stay in Devon for a week before returning to Bath and then she could create a room for herself with any luck. For now, she simply had to concentrate on getting through this night and doing her duty.
“My lady,” the young maid said softly, “I need to...” She gestured at the front of Ivy’s stays, clasped tightly to her belly by her clenched hands.
“Oh yes.” She released her hand and let them hang limply at her side. “Sorry.”
The maid tugged away the undergarment and retrieved the delicate point laced chemise her mother had insisted she pack. Ivy felt a fool for agreeing to such a thing when the maid shook it out. This was an item of clothing designed for some delicate waif of a woman. It would only cling to her breasts and tummy and make her feel all the more uncomfortable.
When the maid went to untie the neck of her shift, Ivy stepped back.
“Oh, forgive me, my lady.” The maid’s eyes widened, and she looked to the floor.
“No. It’s fine...it’s just...”
Ivy sighed. How she missed Anne. Anne knew to leave Ivy to finish undressing herself. Anne knew all about her lumps and bumps and didn’t care. If only Anne had been able to come with her but Ivy leaving the family home meant her lady’s maid could retire and Ivy had no intention of allowing her to work any more years than she had to. Ivy wasn’t certain she could stand this petite, extremely young woman seeing any of her, though.
“I’ll finish undressing,” Ivy said softly. “You can go now.”
“Of course, my lady.” The girl dipped and slipped out of the door, closing it softly behind her.
Wonderful. Ivy had offended her maid on her very first night. She sank onto the bed and smoothed her hands over the silken bedding. The girl had come from the nearby village and wouldn’t be looking after her for more than the week so maybe the lady’s maid at Charington would be better. The last thing Ivy needed was someone meek like herself. Between the two of them, they’d barely uttered four words.
