“Hugh, I am falling asleep,” she murmured drowsily, her lashes fluttering closed.
He paused, and Phoebe smiled when he pressed a kiss atop her shoulders as if to say, Sleep, then. Then he resumed his ministrations, just a bit more tenderly this time, but just as relaxing and sublime.
Something indefinable turned over inside of her. Phoebe hoped she was not still that silly girl who longed for sweet sentiments. The old dreams of the forever kind of love she’d always hungered for, the one that would allow her to live a life of joy, was forever from her reach. This man did not believe in fate or love. The simple fact was their marriage was only built on the use they had of each other to save their family. Nothing more.
Do not be silly, Phoebe! she told herself fiercely. Do not go wishing for more than he will ever be able to give. The possibility of feeling more for him, only to never have those sentiments returned, sent a painful jolt of apprehension through her.
That way only led to heartache, pain, and disappointed expectations. And I am smarter than that. Dear God, please let me be smarter than to fall hopelessly in love with Hugh Winthrop.
Chapter Eleven
Phoebe slowly came awake, the warm rays of the sun heating her cheeks. Her lashes fluttered open, and she froze. Oh! Somehow, she was in the very center of the large bed, her head pillowed on a chest, and a gentle but unbreakable clasp on her shoulder. Hugh breathed deeply and evenly behind her.
The urgent need to tend to her morning ablutions had her wiggling against him as she sought to turn around. She managed to extricate herself from his hold and was about to shift and face him when he rose and came above her. Phoebe fell back against the pillow and peered up at him. It was when his lashes lowered and his gaze swept over her in a quick but very thorough glance that she recalled the scandalous way her clothes were arranged. And they were no longer swathed in darkness. Mortification swamped her senses, along with a most aggravating curl of desire.
“You…” she started to say and then with a horrified groan slapped a hand over her mouth.
She reached between them and tugged at the sheets to place it over her mouth, effectively covering her exposed breasts. His eyes widened, and she blushed. Surely married couples in the ton or anyone did not speak to each other before washing and cleaning their mouths!
Humor lit in his eyes, and he dipped his head.
“You must not kiss me!” she said, though the words sound muffled.
The dratted man ignored her alarm and kissed her firmly. Though the silken sheet was between their mouths, Phoebe felt the heated imprint of his lips, and her stomach flipped alarmingly. When he lifted his head, a wide smile curved his mouth, and he looked happy. The very notion of it had her staring at him with wide eyes. She lifted her fingers to his mouth, tracing the shape of his smile with her thumb.
Phoebe tugged the sheet from her mouth to her chin. “You have a beautiful smile, Hugh.”
He wrinkled his nose.
Phoebe glowered. “You started it! Now you’ll simply have to suffer my terrible breath!”
He grabbed her lingering fingers and pressed a kiss to them before leaning down and touching his lips to hers again.
Her belly rippled, and he broke their kiss to peer down. The baby moved, and Hugh jerked a bit. He glanced up briefly, a look of wonder on his face, and she did not protest when he pressed his palm against her stomach to feel the powerful kicks of the baby. They stayed like that for a bit, and she held on to the urge to demand the chamber pot so that he could have this moment.
He lowered himself even more and kissed her belly. She could feel the shape of his smile through the sheet and nightgown. Why are you so wonderful? A sob hitched in her throat, and she was embarrassed to feel her eyes smarting.
At that soft, distressed sound, he glanced up with a frown. Hugh shifted, coming back up to face her. He arched a brow, and she understood the silent question.
“I do not think you can possibly be real,” she said hoarsely. “Surely there must be something villainous you are hiding.”
With one hand he made a sign. “Why?”
Because some foolish part of me believes you are the husband I’ve always wanted. Yet she could not say it aloud. It felt too uncertain and frightful and intense. And silly. Do not forget silly.
“Because I greeted our baby?”
She stared at him for several moments before she lurched up and hugged him fiercely. There was a moment before he wrapped his arms around her. Phoebe distantly realized that she was sobbing as if her heart was breaking and that his arms had tightened around her, and his heartbeat at his throat where her face was buried jerked furiously.
“I am not sad,” she said, squeezing him even closer. “Far from it. My heart feels such peace and relief, a place I never thought I could be given this past year.”
He lowered his chin to her head and simply returned her embrace. Phoebe’s lids fluttered closed, and she drifted off into sleep, clasped in his arms.
…
A few days later, Phoebe sat in the drawing room on a plush sofa, her feet propped on a well-padded ottoman. At her request, Caroline had been joining her in this room after breaking her fast. Caroline had no precept to guide her, and Phoebe wanted to help her with all the knowledge she had gleaned as she’d prepare for her come-out. Did Caroline know how to dance, to hold court with the wittiest of them, how to remain unflappable when those who deem themselves superior turn up their noses and make cutting comments in accents of withering scorn? It was not an easy task they had set for themselves. This was their fifth day of meeting in the larger drawing room near the eastern gardens for lessons. Phoebe had taken the time to prepare Caroline on what to expect at her coming out next season and had also given a few lessons in the art of polite chitchat and even flirting.
They had spent several hours laughing at how ludicrous the lords and ladies of society could be; however, Caroline had eagerly soaked up every piece of advice from Phoebe, even though she admitted she was not an authority on ton life. Caroline had revealed herself to be charming, lively, full of wit, and utterly distracting. Phoebe suggested to Hugh that it was best to hire a dancing tutor to teach his sister the complicated dances.
Caroline’s face creased in a tight grimace of discomfort as she sat on the sofa in front of Phoebe. Resting a hand on her stomach, Phoebe considered the girl, who was only two years younger than herself, with some measure of amusement. “Is it that torturous to wear a pretty dress, Caroline?”
“Yes,” she muttered, gritting her teeth, tugging at the ribbon around her waist and the laces at her sleeves.
Phoebe laughed lightly. “For what my observation is worth, you are stunning.”
And she had drawn forth a gasp from Phoebe when she had entered the drawing room a few minutes earlier. The light blue dress with the new lower waist complimented her figure, and her ash blonde hair was caught up in a loose chignon with artful tendrils caressing her cheeks. Sarah had buffed the nails on her hands, so they no longer appeared cracked, and the maidservant had instructed Caroline to wash her face in rose water for several mornings. Not that it had been needed, for her beauty was fresh and unique.