She stepped back. “I imagined…”
More of those ravenous kisses from last night, he’d wager. But right now, his purpose was to gain her cooperation. Even if tasting her made him want to return again and again, until she forgot the very meaning of the word no. “You’re safe.”
When she looked disgruntled, he almost smiled.
“That’s very…good of you.” She didn’t sound particularly grateful either.
“Unless you’d like me to stay?”
“By stay, you mean…”
Garson nodded. “Oh, yes. I’ve chosen this path for your benefit. For myself, I’d be overjoyed to share your bed sooner rather than later.” Then a confession that had been unthinkable last week. Two days ago, even. “This delay is pure agony.”
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Astonishment widened her eyes further, although she must know by now that she put him in a fever. “Surely not.”
“Surely so,” he said with grim amusement. “Are you asking me to come to your bed?”
Her gaze dropped, and those slender hands began to fiddle with her skirt.
The silence was answer enough.
He was sleeping alone. Not that he was surprised. She’d ventured a long way toward him, but it was only a day since he’d made a mess of their wedding night. This wasn’t the outcome he preferred, but he was wise enough to accept it as the outcome that was inevitable. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jane. If it’s fine, we might take the carriage out to Stonehenge.”
“Very well,” she said half-heartedly. He was delighted—amidst his frustration—to notice her dismay that there was only one kiss.
His plan to lure her into his arms was succeeding, although God knew how he’d sleep. Even that one quick kiss made him as hard as a bloody truncheon. “Sleep well.”
“Good night.”
Garson bowed and left the room before he changed his mind. Once he was on the other side of the door, he slumped against the wall. A groan escaped as he bent his head. Keeping his hands off his lovely bride was excruciating. He hoped to hell that Jane didn’t intend to test his good intentions for long, or he feared for his sanity.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair. Hell, there had been a few moments tonight when he hadn’t been sure honor would outweigh desire. When he’d unlaced her. When he’d seen her lush breasts pressing against her thin shift. When he’d restricted himself to a single kiss.
He groaned again. He was so on edge, even a feather bed would torture him. Let alone his narrow cot in the dressing room.
But he’d survive.
And he had cause for hope. Oh, yes, the frost melted from lovely Jane. She’d soon be his.
For the sake of his mental health, she’d better be.
It was only as Garson lay with his feet dangling over the end of the bed and his eyes wide open staring at the dark ceiling that he realized the most astonishing fact about a day packed with revelations.
He hadn’t thought about Morwenna Nash once.
*
Chapter Fourteen
*
The promised excursion to Stonehenge had to wait an extra day. Unseasonably clement weather melted the snow, but turned the roads to impassable mud. Today the sun was shining, and it was dry enough to travel to the ancient monument. Jane and Hugh had spent a fascinating afternoon imagining ancient rites among the stones.
Now she and her puzzling, increasingly compelling husband headed back to Salisbury in their luxurious carriage. Hugh sat beside her and stared out the window. The way he held her hand and played with her fingers stirred her senses into a ferment.
Not that she needed encouragement.