“I think when I was about eight. I remember coming upon a litter of abandoned kittens in the hedgerow. They were so tiny and helpless, and my mother said I would have to stay awake with them for nights on end like a mother cat, but I insisted I could do it and had them sleep in my bedroom. I added a few more animals before my father insisted, I move them all to the stables.” Her smile wavered. “I miss them.”
Cillian didn’t know what to say. He had no idea she had left behind any animals. He pictured her in straw laden stables, morning light dripping in through high windows whilst surrounded by her animals.
And he’d given her this. A cold, luxurious home with servants who apparently loathed them both.
“Sometimes I am able to find homes for them when I have nursed them back to health,” she said. “That’s my favorite part. Seeing them go to a loving home. Even Greta found a good home.”
“Greta?”
“A sheep. She was quite ornery and constantly escaped. But she could still breed, and I think she just needed to find purpose.”
He knew that feeling. Since he and his mother had arrived from Ireland when he was but a boy, he’d needed purpose. Anything to distract from the odd looks he got and the muttered words. No one trusted this dark little Irish boy who never quite understood how to make friends with English boys.
It seemed his wife wanted purpose too. If anyone understood her desire to protect those less fortunate than himself, it was him. He knew all too well what it felt like to be vulnerable, to be at the mercy of others. If he could do anything to help her fulfill her purpose, he would.
He looked toward the slumbering creature then back at Ivy as she settled with her back against the seat of the nearby chair. “Would you like me to, uh, stay? To keep you company?”
A few interminable moments passed while his heart gave a vigorous thud against his chest.
Then her eyes crinkled, and Cillian’s heart threatened to explode from his ribs entirely. He feared he was getting to the point he’d do anything to make this woman smile.
“That would be pleasant, thank you.”
Something about the wordpleasantmade Cillian want to groan. Perhaps because it was far too close to the word pleasure. And the more time he spent with Ivy, the more and more he thought of pleasure and her—his wife—combined. The trouble was, he had little idea if she even liked him, let alone wanted him. After seeing his ghastly eye, he wasn’t certain how she could look at him. How could he expect her to want anything more?
Chapter Eight
The hiss and crackle of the fire offered a warm welcome as Ivy opened her eyes and blinked blearily at the clock. Long past midnight. She’d been asleep a good several hours.
Asleep on Cillian’s lap it seemed.
His firm leg offered a perfect pillow and she’d tucked a hand underneath the warmth of his thigh at some point. She wasn’t certain how he’d managed it whilst being held captive by her head, but he had also laid a blanket over her. She heard his steady breaths, the sound regular and comforting, and decided not to rush to sitting. The room was lit by the glow of the fireplace and nothing else, the hedgehog was silent, and she was warm and cozy.
Protected.
Cillian’s arm lay across her body. She glanced down, able to make out his large hand splayed upon her hip. She’d grown up in a large and busy family with sisters to protect her from all the nasty comments about her weight, yet she’d never felt so protected before, as though Cillian could shield her from anything in this world, even from the catty Lady Agnes’s of the world who used to follow her around at balls and make comments on every food choice she made.
She lay there, listening to the steady tick of time go by until she realized Cillian was awake. Warmth creeping into her cheeks, she pushed to sitting and shoved a wild curl behind her ear.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said with a glance toward the box.
He offered a slender smile, his lips tilting to one side in a way that made her heart squeeze. She seldom saw her husband smile and his features could be considered stern the majority of the time. Unfortunately, the eyepatch and his strong build did nothing to soften his appearance. Yet when he gave her such a boyish look, she was fairly certain he was the most handsome man in the world.
“Especially for so long,” she added when he said nothing.
“You needed the sleep I should imagine.”
She didn’t. Hadn’t. She’d slept perfectly well the night before and could only blame the warmth and comfort of being here, in this room, with Cillian.
“Did you sleep at all?” She shifted to sit upon her heels so she could straighten her skirts and feel at least a little less rumpled. Hopefully she hadn’t snored or done anything else embarrassing like dribble on his lap. “It’s late.” She looked at the clock. “I mean early.”
“I wanted to ensure the hedgehog was safe.”
For a moment, Ivy swore she spied a little color on Cillian’s cheeks but there was no chance such a man would blush surely?
“It seems I am not the only one with an affinity for animals.”
“I never considered I might have an affinity for hedgehogs. I tend to prefer those that don’t prick one’s finger.”