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No, he’d wager every acre of his estate that Jane wasn’t cold, just uncertain and innocent. She needed careful handling, when so far, all he’d done was lumber around like a drunken yokel.

Despite his discomfort, a reminiscent smile tilted his lips. His wedding night might have proven a dismal failure, but he saw the promise of better things to come.

He just needed to overcome his wife’s fears and make her want him.

*

Much against expectations, Jane slept deeply and late. After all that turmoil, she’d been convinced that she’d see the dawn. But when she opened her eyes, the morning was well advanced. Sheer exhaustion had triumphed over turbulent emotions and a troubled spirit.

As one of the inn’s maids helped her dress, last night’s events took on a dreamlike quality. It was hard to believe that Hugh had kissed her to the verge of madness. But when she entered the sitting room and found her husband in his shirtsleeves, reading the London papers, her stomach lurched and her heart started to race. She couldn’t help remembering how he’d touched her.

Studying the man she’d married, she acknowledged that Caro Nash was right. Hugh was worth the effort.

He sat turned away from her, his armchair in a pool of winter sunshine. In profile like this, he looked like a knight in an old engraving.

Last night, he’d been a knight, too. In the light of day, she could appreciate his extraordinary chivalry. He hadn’t shouted at her. He’d even seemed to understand her uncertainty. And he’d left her to sleep alone.

He lowered the broadsheet and met her apprehensive regard. To her surprise, he smiled. A proper smile. She knew him well enough to recognize the difference.

“Good morning, Jane. How did you sleep?”

Not sure how to respond, she shifted from one foot to the other. She was as uncomfortable as she’d be if he’d used her body last night. “Good morning,” she said shakily.

She’d wondered whether he’d be angry, now he’d had time to stew on how she’d reneged on their arrangement. But he seemed just the same as always. Easygoing. Polite. Considerate.

He folded away the paper and rose to cross the floor toward her. He extended his hand and without thinking, she accepted it. More warmth and that inescapable ripple of awareness. Awareness deepened by her recollection of how she’d felt lashed tight in his arms.

Something that looked like masculine interest flickered in his dark eyes. She blushed.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world—which she supposed it was, given they were married—he brushed his lips across her cheek. “You’re looking lovely.”

It was a chaste salute. Not like last night’s hungry kisses. But her blush deepened, and her stomach gave that odd lurch again. Her knees wobbled, and she tightened her hold on his hand.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, and didn’t think to argue with his compliment. Although she’d changed into one of her plain, unfashionable gowns ready for travel, and her mirror had told her that the strain of the last days showed on her face.

In a daze, she let him lead her to a table set for breakfast. For two.

She cast him a curious glance under her lashes. “Did you wait for me?”

How pitiful that this seemed such a concession on his part. Nobody had ever adjusted their habits to fit in with her before.

“Naturally.” Still holding her hand, Hugh took the seat cornerwise. She was staring at him like a moonling, when a pair of servants, including the maid who had helped her dress, arrived with their meal.

When Mary bestowed a misty-eyed glance on the newlyweds holding hands over the breakfast table, Jane blushed again. Which must only make her look more bridal.

Once she and Hugh were alone again, she made herself face him. “I promise I’ll do better.”

He paused in serving her some breakfast and shot her a searching look that pierced her to her bones. “No, the fault was all mine.”

He slid a plate piled high with eggs and bacon and sausages in front of her, then he served himself. Jane stared glumly down at her breakfast. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. But I have a plan to fix things.”

Startled, she glanced up. “You have?”

“Once we’ve had breakfast, I’ll tell you about it.”

“Can’t you tell me now?”


Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance