The afternoon wind off the sea was so icy, even Gideon noticed its biting power. Unusual for this time of year, according to the porter at the hotel, who wished him and Charis well when they left on their walk.
Gideon wasn’t sure appearing in public was a good idea. Someone might recognize him. After the last days, he couldn’t bear fending off another crowd as he had in Portsmouth. More, there was a small but significant risk of word reaching Felix and Hubert that he and Charis were on Jersey.
But Gideon couldn’t bear being confined in their rooms any longer. The acrid memories of last night’s pain and disappointment weighted the air. Worse, that clumsy bedding had left a brooding sensual awareness in its wake. Living in close quarters with Charis and knowing he couldn’t touch her, would never touch her again, was slowly driving him out of his mind.
As the day progressed, he’d watched his own strain increasingly reflected in his wife’s pale face. The tension between them had stretched and stretched until it became intolerable. He’d heard her sigh of relief when he suggested going out.
Thankfully, it appeared the cold kept most people inside. The few hardy souls on the promenade paid Gideon and Charis no heed as they strolled a
long the seafront.
So far it had proven a mostly silent walk. As it had proven a mostly silent day.
Hell, what could he say after last night’s emotional storms? His gut clenched with humiliation at his behavior, both during and after their bleak coupling. How could he bear to revisit the black ocean of anguish? Or perhaps even more harrowing, how could he discuss his inept use of her body?
The silence was heavy as lead with what remained studiously unspoken.
Charis turned into the wind and paused to look across the gray rolling waves. The stiff breeze snatched at her bonnet, and she raised one gloved hand to hold it firm.
At least she was dressed suitably. He’d called in a modiste that morning and ordered a wardrobe for his bride. The charming yellow ensemble Charis wore had been hurriedly altered to fit. Other garments would arrive over the next week.
It was the only time Charis had smiled all day, when she saw the designs for her dresses.
Gideon came up beside her as she leaned on the stone parapet. Beneath the bonnet’s brim, her expression was pensive. Her lush, pink mouth drooped at the corners.
Ah, that soft mouth…
The continual low hum of desire made his head swim. Self-disgust followed fast.
Good God, he was a satyr of the vilest kind. After what he’d done last night, how could he think of touching her?
Turning, she caught his stare. From the color that invaded her pale cheeks, she guessed the heated direction of his thoughts.
She must despise him. She ought to despise him. He’d hurt her, then broken down and cried for the first time since his release from the Nawab’s dungeons.
Her eyes darkened to green with some emotion he couldn’t name. Although before last night’s debacle, he might have called it interest. Her lips parted on a soundless sigh.
He jerked back as if she reached for him. But her yellow-gloved hands remained safely on the seawall.
His heart thudded like a drum. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. To his surprise, she laughed softly. Surprise and chagrin.
That low musical sound slid along his veins like honey and made him want what he could never have. He should be inured to frustration, but somehow the damned torture never ended.
“You look almost bashful.” Her husky voice bubbled with warmth.
“Good God, Charis…” He struggled to express his shock. “You can’t find our predicament amusing.”
Her lips turned down. “I’d rather laugh than cry.” She turned away and gazed across the choppy water. “You can see what everyone thinks when they look at us. That waiter this morning leered.”
“We’re newlyweds,” he said somberly. “If your stepbrothers inquire, I want people to say we acted like any couple.”
“Then perhaps you should touch me,” she said softly but implacably. She still stared over the restless iron gray sea.
Silence fell. While the waves rolled and the gulls cried and traffic clattered along the street behind them.
“Charis…”
She turned and the humor had fled. “You touched me last night.”