I didn’t trust easily, and I had a good reason. I couldn’t imagine finding someone who would assuage my doubt.
“You’re worrying,” Belle interrupted my thoughts, finally gliding across the water to the entrance steps. She climbed them slowly, her long fingers clinging to the railing carefully. Each stair brought more of her sumptuous body into view and pushed my concerns farther from my mind.
“Not anymore,” I promised, flicking my tongue across my lower lip. “Now, I’m just deciding what to do to you first.”
“I didn’t do as you told me,” she pointed out with a wicked glint in her blue eyes that told me I’d been right that she wanted to be punished.
I wrapped the towel around her shoulders and brought it to cover her.
“What am I going to do with you, beautiful?” I asked, tugging the terrycloth that trapped her until she was as close as her pregnant body would allow.
Belle’s head tipped back, her hair dripping across her shoulders, and smiled. “Anything you want.”
In that case, we wouldn’t be needing the towel. I rubbed it across her bare skin until she was dry. Pausing to study her for a moment. “Are you cold?”
“No.” But she shivered.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted.
I slid my hand down between her thighs, coaxing her stance a little wider in the process, so I could massage my palm against her slick skin. “I can warm you up.”
“But I disobeyed you,” she murmured, wriggling in an attempt to achieve more contact.
My palm twitched at the invitation. Leaning down, I drew my lips across hers, moving to trail them across her jawline until I reached her ear. “I never said I wasn’t going to punish you. You’ll find parts of you very warm soon.”
A hesitant cough broke the spell between us, and I whipped around, placing myself between my wife and the intruder.
“Begging your pardon.” Humphrey, our new butler, studiously looked away from us. His face, slightly crimson, was as sharp and angular as the tails he wore, their jet black fabric faded with age. “You have a guest. I saw her to the east drawing room. I assumed with the construction in the kitchen—”
“Thank you,” I cut him off. "We’ll be right up."
“I will have some tea delivered,” he suggested mildly, his eyes still glued to the floor.
After this, I was going to need whiskey. Humphrey bowed before turning to wind his way up the creaky stairs to the main floor of the house.
“We’re never going to have any bloody privacy,” I grumbled.
“Whose idea was it to leave London for the country?” Belle reminded me, stepping away while adjusting her towel to cover herself completely.
“I want a fresh start,” I said, reminding myself the same. Away from London. Away from the busy city. But, mostly, I wanted to leave our ghosts behind. After everything that had happened to us, Belle had agreed. She was more reluctant, but, fortunately, I had many methods of persuasion at my disposal—if only we could get a moment alone.
“Shall we go meet Mary Poppins?” Belle held out her hand, drawing me back to what this was really about: our future. Hers, mine, and our daughter’s.
I’d get used to the household staff, and they’d get used to finding us like this.
“Lead the way, beautiful.” I took her hand and guided her toward the lift. We stepped inside it, and I pressed the button for the second floor. “I’ll go down and say hello. Join us when you’re dressed.”
When we reached the second floor, Belle stepped into the hall before turning to place a hand to stop the lift doors from sliding closed. “We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we? Coming here?”
I only heard the question she was really asking: Can we leave the past behind?
I smiled, and then I did something I rarely felt the need to do with my wife, I lied. “Yes. Everything is going to be simpler here. You’ll see.”
She nodded as I leaned across the threshold to kiss her, but her body remained rigid. That’s when I realized two things: she knew it was a lie, but she’d been hoping she could believe it.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she promised.
She disappeared from sight as the doors slid closed. I’d promised to protect her, and I’d nearly given my life to do so. Nothing would change that, but soon I would have two of them to guard. It would be easier to do that here, away from the chaos that surrounded our Royal circle of friends.
I’d prove it to her. Or I’d make it my mission to keep her so distracted that she didn’t care. I was going to make this work. One way or the other.
2
Belle
The antique lift delivered me to the first floor of the house, or as I liked to think of it: sanctuary. As soon as I stepped from the confined compartment into the corridor, the sounds of construction greeted me. Hammering, sawing—and god knows what else—rose through the landing of the stairs from the work being down on the ground level. I padded down the hall, into the east wing and slammed the bedroom door closed behind me. For a moment, I sank against the wood, clutching the towel tightly around my body. It wasn’t as though living in a beautiful house on a large estate was a hardship. I’d grown up on one, save for the times I was away at boarding school. I knew what it took to run the grounds. I knew my husband’s insistence on hiring a butler, a cook, a groundskeeper, and a housekeeper were all wise decisions. He’d seen to everything—almost everything.
At the moment, it was hard to imagine how quiet this house would soon be. But once the foreman and his crews finished their work, it would just be the two of us and a bunch of strangers. The nearest neighbor was several kilometers away and the village was over a fifteen minute drive. I should have expected as much when Smith said he wanted somewhere peaceful to raise our daughter. I should have been ecstatic at the prospect of living here and raising a family. I’d wanted that: to have children with Smith. I still wanted it, but I couldn't help worrying about how much I was giving up in the process. I’d nearly suggested looking for a house closer to my mother, just to know I would be near someone I knew. Thankfully, the ongoing drama surrounding my own family estate had shown me enough to know that was a bad idea.
“Chin up, soldier,” I muttered to myself. Tossing the towel on the bed on my way to the master bath, I started the shower, reminding myself that it was one of the many reasons this house was going to be worth the sacrifice. The entire bathroom had been gutted, plumbing and fixtures updated, into a loo worthy of a five star resort. Smith insisted it be exactly to my standards, so that I would have a place to escape during the rest of the remodel as well as a quiet spot to relax after the baby was born. I’d opted for Carrara marble, knowing its simple sophistication would never go out of style. A two-person soaking tub overlooked the sweeping hills behind the house. His and her vessel sinks sat opposite one another on a long vanity, lit overhead by a matching set of chandeliers. The marble flooring extended to cover one wall entirely in the delicate white tile to make a massive, walk-in shower. A single pane of clear glass rose from the floor and other than two large, rainfall-style showerheads and a central drain, there was little else to the shower. It had been a trick to figure out where to put the soap so as not to spoil the effect. In the end, a small shelf had been built into the wall, allowing a place for us to stash our necessities. I’d designed the space so Smith and I could shower at the same time. Although, considering how regularly he joined me on my side of the shower, it could have been half the size.