Autumn's Wild Heart (Seasons #4) - Laura Landon Page 0,26

to a charmed beginning.

Nella undressed and climbed into bed. The first day was over. Patricia and Rosamonde had retired early to get enough rest to be ready for the events Nella had planned for the next day. James and his friends had remained in the card room to chat. Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day. Nella had it all planned.

After they rose and ate, they would go for a hike and picnic down by the stream Nella had discovered when she first came to Colworth Abbey. After that, they would lounge about. Then, Nella had board and card games planned for the evening.

What pleased her most was that her husband’s friends and Patricia and Rosamonde seemed to hit it off splendidly. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company. All through dinner there hadn’t been a lull in their conversation. The laughter had been genuine, ringing in the halls and bringing smiles that lasted through the evening. Nella was glad.

She lay in bed reliving their day, then struggled to keep her eyes open while she waited for her husband.

Perhaps he wouldn’t come to her tonight. It depended on how long he remained with his friends. But she hoped she might have a chance to speak with him before tomorrow. She was desperate to know how he got his bruises…and why.

She had almost fallen asleep when she heard him come up the stairs. He walked down the hall and stopped at her door. He hesitated for a bit, then opened her door.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“Yes. I was waiting for you.”

He entered, then closed the door behind himself. He removed his clothes, then slid into bed beside her.

James reached his hand to cup her cheek, then drew it gently through the tawny hair she’d brushed for one hundred strokes.

“I didn’t find an opportunity to tell you how lovely you looked today.”

His quiet, husky voice seemed on the edge of sleep, but his words wakened every nerve in her body. In truth, she had felt lovely. She would pen a note to her modiste in the morning, with effusive thanks for guiding her choices in the new gowns.

“I particularly like this new gown,” Nella whispered.

“I wasn’t speaking of the gown, although I quite agree.” His hand found its way out of her lush curls and trailed across her shoulder. “It was your face. Your smile. Everything was alight. So…so exuberant.”

“Exuberant?”

“Mm-hm,” he said drowsily. “Like your music. Alive. Exuberant. I felt like dancing.”

Nella tsk-tsked. “May I remind you, dearest husband. We do not dance.”

“We do not?” He raised his head to peer at her. “Still, I stand by what I said. Perhaps we didn’t move our feet, but tonight we definitely danced.”

Nella smiled and felt the warmth of it linger in her veins. James was right. Today had been perfect. Harmonious. Joyful. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was more than one way to dance.

But he was distracting her, and she couldn’t allow it just yet.

“Is there something else you wish to tell me?” she asked.

He rolled to his back and placed his forearm over his eyes. “I thought perhaps you might want to know about that,” he sighed. “If I pretended to be obtuse, I would ask what it is you want to talk about, but I know you well enough to know what it is you want to know.”

“Yes, I suppose you do.”

Nella turned on her side and gathered one of his hands in hers and touched his bruised knuckles. She pressed the palm of her other hand against the faint bruise on his cheekbone. “Who gave you these?”

James drew her hand away from his face and kissed her palm.

“It was just a little skirmish.”

“Over…?”

“It doesn’t matter, Nella.”

“I see,” she answered, then shifted to her back. “I’m sorry.” Her heart ached with such pain she could barely breathe.

“You have no blame in this,” he said almost angrily as he came over her. “And we will not speak of it again. Wife.”

He pressed angry kisses about her shoulders until at last his mood turned tender.

Nella held him, wishing for words that would make the need for words vanish. She wrapped her arms around him and gathered him to her, trying to keep the tears at bay, though she could not.

It was her fault his dear face was battered, his gentle hands scraped.

She should have allowed him to be discovered compromising Lady Blanche. At least he would not have to defend her honor every time he went to Town. Nor would he