That was, until it wasn’t.
“Why don’t we cook something together?”
Luke couldn’t help but think that sounded like a damn good idea.
He would wait for her. He would give her the comfort she needed but also the time society demanded. And then they’d make something together.
Chapter Eleven
Naomi read over the words she’d written on the familiar pages of her journal and then closed the book so she could prepare for bed. She’d written that woman’s name beside Arthur’s.
Bridget.
There would come a time when it would cease to have the ability to hurt her. Luke’s companionship was already dulling the stabbing sensation of betrayal.
It weighed as a great disappointment.
She had taken vows with Arthur. She’d given him her promise--to love him, to keep him, to honor him—and even though he hadn’t followed through with his, she’d had every intention of honoring hers.
And she would love their child—her child, regardless of what he’d done.
She drew her night rail out of the wardrobe and groaned. Some of her troubles would not be resolved for possibly years to come, but for now, she faced a far more pressing one. That of undressing herself.
If either of she or Ester had taken a moment to consider such a mundane matter, Naomi could have worn a gown that fastened up the front.
But in Ester’s concern for her niece, and Naomi’s reassurance that she’d be just fine alone, neither of them had considered such a dilemma.
She reached her hands behind her but, after less than a minute of fumbling, her arms already ached. The small stays she wore, along with the fact that her bodice fit more tightly than it had a few months before, would make sleep most uncomfortable.
Footsteps sounding in the corridor reminding her that Luke was here and she could ask him for assistance.
Not that she required reminding of his proximity. She was all too aware…
After cooking a simple stew together, they’d lingered at the table, sharing anecdotes of their childhoods as well as those of their siblings. Luke loved his family most ardently, and she’d admitted to the same. They’d lingered until long after dark, and while Naomi tended to the cleaning up, Luke had gone outside to check on the animals in the barn. He was just now returning.
She ought to feel strange, having him here. She ought to be concerned at how seamlessly he fit into her life.
He was the son of a duke, a major in the British Army. He had his own family. He’d be required to return to the conflict soon. Before that, he was going to want to go home to see his brother and sisters.
She reached over her head and then tried to reach around her back again. It seemed even more impossible on this attempt. Of all the ways she was going to have to become independent, she’d already failed at this.
Gah!
“Luke?” she cried out.
When he didn’t answer, she padded barefoot across the floor and opened her door. At the same time, he opened his from across the hall. Obviously, far more adept at undressing himself, he already wore only his breeches. The sight of smooth, silky-looking skin stretched across his chest and torso reminded her of the day he’d been working on the porch. How they’d flexed beneath his linen shirt when he lifted the hammer and strained when he’d twisted to catch her watching him.
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, leaving her speechless.
What kind of woman was she that she had an almost irresistible urge to lick that smooth skin?
To lick him? Oh, but wait, she’d already done that when she’d thrown herself at him earlier this afternoon.
“Did you need something, Naomi?” A smirk hovered on his lips. Lips that she’d tasted and that she knew could be both soft and firm.
It was almost as though he was reading her thoughts. He really was far too skilled at doing that. Not only did he seem to know what she was thinking, but what she was feeling as well. Or perhaps she was just abysmal at hiding anything from him.
“Um.” What had she needed him for? Aside from… “I can’t unfasten my gown.”
Blurting out the request sounded far more suggestive then when she’d practiced it in her mind.
Judging by the flare in those periwinkle eyes gazing back at her, her request sounded equally inappropriate to him.
“Ester usually…”
“Of course.” But his throat pulsed as he swallowed hard.
Perhaps having him stay here overnight wasn’t such a good idea after all.
She dropped her lashes and stared at his bare feet. Slim, elegant, masculine. Noticing the smattering of almost imperceptible hairs on his toes seemed oddly more intimate than staring at his chest.
She turned to present her back to him and lifted her hands to the nape of her neck in so she could first unpin the low knot, allowing him access to the top of her garment. As her hair came free, she lifted the heavy strands, assuring herself that she’d had no choice in this matter. Furthermore, this wasn’t nearly as inappropriate as if she’d asked him to assist her with this in her bedchamber.
She held herself steady, holding the hair higher on her head as the floorboards creaked behind her. Even if she hadn’t been able to hear him, she no doubt would have felt his approach. Whenever the distance closed between the two of them, her body came alive in a uniquely unnerving manner.
His fingers whispered at the back of her neck as he unfastened the top and she shivered. “Are you cold?” His hand settled onto her shoulder and the urge to curl herself into him nearly overpowered her.
“A little,” she answered. The weather had turned colder outside; in fact, at night now, the window in her chamber often rattled at night. Autumn would soon become winter, Christmas would be here, and before she realized, she’d be counting the twelve nights.
A new year.
She lowered one hand to the top of her swollen abdomen. A new life. Less than two months remained by her estimations.
Luke went back to work on her gown and the fabric loosened. She wore short stays over her chemise but her petticoats no longer fit over her belly. Still, Luke wouldn’t have even a glimpse of her skin.
What would he do if she dropped the gown? She chastised herself for considering it.
Which she wasn’t, really.
“Do you need help with this?” His fingertips grazed just above the thick fabric of the stays.
“It ties in the front.”
What there was of it. She’d refrained from wearing her normal stays right after Arthur disappeared. As in literally, the moment he was out of sight, she’d found Ester and declared that she couldn’t wear them one minute longer.
But she’d wanted to look her best to bid her husband farewell.
The thought that he’d spent his last night in England with another woman… Was that true as well? She would likely never know.
It didn’t matter. He was gone.
“Do you want me to build a fire for you?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. As she was coming to appreciate all too fondly, his touch felt heavenly. Naomi released the hair she’d been holding up and relaxed into him. Oh, but if she allowed him into her bedchamber, she doubted she’d let him out.
“I’ll be warm enough.” More than warm enough if the flush coursing through her lasted even a portion of the night.