Emerging from behind the screen, she saw Tyler had stuck the flowers in china teapots and crystal vases and laid them in gravy bowls. He had unfastened his tie and thrown off his coat and waited in shirtsleeves with his hands characteristically shoved in his pockets as he leaned against the door. His gaze drifted over the loose linen of her long gown, then came back up to meet hers.
The disappointment she had first thought she'd seen in his eyes was carefully replaced now by a neutral expression.
"You're going to be warm in all that gear. I won't object if you want to make yourself a little more comfortable while I wash." Unfastening his shirt as he went, Tyler disappeared behind the screen.
He was good, too good. Without giving an order or voicing a protest, he had told her that he didn't want her wearing all these clothes. He had also shattered her brief illusion. Cheeks flushing, Evie stood in the middle of the braided rug and tried to decide what to do next. She didn't want to wear all this gear, either, but she remembered all too clearly what Tyler could do if she didn't. To take it off would make it seem as if she wanted him to do that again.
She didn't. What they had done had been dirty, painful, and embarrassing beyond recall. There had been blood and stickiness. They had behaved like animals. He needed to be reminded that she was a lady. And since she was already pregnant, what was the purpose of repeating the act? Perhaps she wouldn't have to.
Relieved by that thought, Evie climbed into bed. It wasn't exactly a romantic marriage bed. The iron bars had been painted a white that had yellowed with age. She had left her own linens on it, however, and she was grateful for that. It seemed more civilized to sleep on linens embroidered with her initials and edged in lace.
Her initials. Evie glanced worriedly at the EPH neatly scrolled in antique white embroidery thread on each pillowcase. What would she tell Tyler if he asked about the H?
Her stomach tensed again as she heard the unmistakable sounds of water splashing from behind the screen. Was Tyler standing there with all his clothes off? What if an intruder came in and she screamed right now?
That irrepressible thought sent Evie off into a fit of giggles she tried to muffle in her pillow. This was the most awful night of her life, and she was laughing at the thought of the grand Tyler Monteigne rushing into the room stark naked and carrying a six-gun. She must be losing her mind.
Stripping off his pants to bathe, Tyler heard her giggles and felt a sudden quenching of his ardor. The sound of giggles in the boudoir could have that effect on a man, he reflected as he scrubbed at his face and wished he had his razor. What in hell could the little witch find to laugh about at this hour? He half expected to walk out and find her waiting with a shotgun.
The thought of emerging from behind the screen presented certain other problems. Whatever else she might be, Evie was a lady who knew nothing of the physical side of men except what little he had forced on her. She would most likely go into shock should he walk out in his birthday suit as he was inclined to do. If she was already waxing hysterical, he couldn't afford to send her over the brink.
There was no doubt in Tyler's mind what he meant to do with his wedding night. A man had only one wedding night, and he was meant to enjoy it. He wasn't accustomed to the long drought from feminine companionship he had endured since being dragged here, and he was looking forward to a little relief. On the morrow he would be confronted with the responsibilities he had shackled himself to, but not tonight. Tonight he meant to teach one Evie Maryellen Peyton Monteigne what it meant to make love. With any luck, there would be a permanent end to that drought. Marriage had at least one advantage.
Remembering the glimpses he'd had of firm white breasts and slender curves and long legs, Tyler felt a surge of desire so strong that he stared at himself with incredulity. Evie would jump out of her skin if he entered their bed looking like this. Regretfully, he reached for the lamp and blew