“Henry or the duke?” Eliza couldn’t help herself.
Something about the possibilities of the day, the newness of everything around her, had her normally pithy tongue at an extreme advantage that morning.
Lucy laughed. “Both!”
Eliza dressed quickly in between sips of tea and before long, she’d made her way back down to where she’d come in from the carriage the night before. From there, she had entirely no idea where to go.
A footman took pity on her. “His Grace is in the east garden.” He gave a neat bow. “I’d be happy to escort you, Your Grace.”
She smiled. “Thank you…” She waited for the footman to introduce himself as she could not at all recollect any of the names she’d been given the previous night, and it was curious to find him blushing.
“It’s George, Your Grace. I’m here to serve in anything you might need.”
She followed helplessly as George wound his way through endless corridors and vexing turns. For a moment, she feared she’d never learn her way about the manor house, but then they passed an exquisitely carved grandfather clock in one of the many drawing rooms they passed through.
“It is truly after ten?” She turned a worried gaze on George who halted abruptly at her outburst.
“It is, Your Grace.”
She peered about them at the silent room and empty corridors.
“But where is everyone?”
George’s smile was assuring. “His Grace asked that the house remain quiet until you were about. After your long journey, he wanted you to rest.”
She warmed instantly at George’s words and had to turn away to hide her blush. It wasn’t the long journey that had exhausted her. Dax had kept her awake most of the night with his lovemaking.
She cleared her throat. “That was rather thoughtful. Thank you.”
George bowed. “Of course, Your Grace.”
He turned once more and continued their journey through drawing rooms and corridors. Finally when she was sure at any moment they would topple directly into the ocean, George indicated a final door with a bow.
“It’s straight through here, Your Grace. You shan’t miss the doors leading into the gardens.”
She thanked him and pressed on. She’d expected another drawing room but faltered when she came into a dark study with resplendent bookcases of warm wood and deep inviting furniture. Along the wall opposite were tall doors of glass panes, thrown wide to the morning sunshine. Salty air spilled in and shook the curtains into a whirl of soft fabric.
This was Dax’s study. She didn’t know how she knew, but she could sense it. The rest of the rooms had been so impersonal, but not this one. The furnishings were carefully chosen with an eye toward comfort rather than appearance. The morning papers lay scattered about the ponderous desk set to one side, and a half-finished game of chess lay abandoned on a table before the dormant fireplace.
Carefully, she proceeded, suddenly feeling as though she were invading Dax’s privacy. She’d traversed half of the room before coming upon a basket tucked against the side of a chair. It was filled with toys. Curiosity had her bending ever so slightly to take in the worn blocks and carved horses, scarred with age and use. She touched a single block with only her fingertips and realized how much she did not know about her husband, and yet she had never been more intimate with another in her life.
She straightened at a sound so familiar she moved toward it without hesitation. Parting the curtains, she stepped through to find Henry at full gallop through the gardens that greeted her.
And Dax, standing with his back to her as he watched Henry run. Her husband wore only trousers and a shirt, rolled to the elbows, and her chest tightened at the sight of him.
How had so much changed in a matter of days?
Last night had been a revelation. She had heard whispers that the sexual act could be pleasurable for women if the man was attentive, but she’d never thought she would experience such pleasure. She knew last night had been a fulfillment of her bargain with Dax, but she couldn’t help but think maybe it was something more. The way he’d touched her had been so deliberate, so invoking. Surely he hadn’t been simply playing along.
A finger of doubt scratched at the back of her neck even as she thought it. After all, he’d wanted an ugly wife. How did one inspire desire when one found the object of such so disappointing?
She squared her shoulders. He had asked for the chance to regain her trust, and she was going to do all she could to keep an open mind. That was the least she owed him.
She stepped up behind him, afraid to startle him, but he must have heard her because he turned, a boyish smile on his face.
“Did you know if you simply toss the bit of morsel into the grass he can find it from the mere scent?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.
“Have you never had a dog of your own?”
He scoffed and toyed with a piece of what might have been sausage between his fingers.
“My father had hunting hounds back when he did that sort of thing, but never something as extraordinary as Henry.” He held up a single finger of the hand without the sausage. “One does not dally with hunting dogs.”
She laughed again and meant to say more, but Henry had heard her at that point and zipped around to careen to a stop at her feet. She bent and scratched his shaggy head.
“And did you know,” she said, “that Henry is actually a failure at what he was bred to do?”
She looked up to meet Dax’s astonished gaze.
“Don’t call my dog a failure.”
Something dangerously warm flickered to life inside of her at his words, and she swallowed against it.
“Henry is a herder. The man I got him from had bred Henry to herd his sheep.” She straightened, keeping one hand on the dog’s head. “Unfortunately, it appears Henry is afraid of sheep.”
Dax’s expression grew serious as he studied Henry.
“It’s all right, chum. I’m afraid of cats. They always look at you like they’re planning your funeral. It’s rather unsettling.”
She laughed again. “Surely you can’t dislike a good barn cat. They’re rather useful at their work.”
His look was skeptical, and she laughed while Henry barked for more sausage. Dax tossed the last of the sausage over his shoulder, and Henry took off like a spring suddenly let loose. She watched him go so that’s why she didn’t see her husband move toward her. He pulled her into his arms before she was prepared, and his kiss was warm and spicy from his breakfast.
“Good morning, wife,” he murmured against her lips.
She couldn’t help it. The last of her defenses were overrun in that moment, standing in the gardens awash with the scent of the sea, her husband’s arms firmly around her. He pulled away reluctantly, lingering on her lips a moment longer.
“You must eat,” he said promptly and moved away so she could see the table laid out behind him.
There were all manner of dishes from eggs and sausages to kidneys and tomatoes. Uncharacteristically, her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to it.
He smirked as he said, “Did you sleep well?”
“When you let me.”
She didn’t miss the shock that registered on his face as she took a seat at the table, and she felt a measure of pride at her witty rejoinder.