Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,93

can.

Trust me,

Dexter

She threw a log on the fire, which flared and crackled. Summer was over. Yesterday, as she’d walked Titan in the park, Meggie had felt the crunch of the first frosts underfoot.

Now, with a mug of coca on the table beside her and the little dog snoring in a basket at her feet, her thoughts turned once more to her husband.

Where was he?

When he’d sent her to the country, she’d relished the solitude and dreaded his arrival. But now, she found herself craving him. His silent, brooding presence gave her reassurance; his strong hands made her feel protected. And at night…

At night, his body gave her pleasure.

She glanced at the wall clock—almost time for supper. The smell of ragout had been permeating throughout the house all day. It seemed odd, eating on her own at a table big enough for twenty, in a room bigger than the house she grew up in, but she maintained the ritual. She was a lady now.

A door opened and shut below. Most likely Charles on an errand for Mrs. Draper. He’d said something about needing more logs for the fire, and the basket in the parlor was almost empty.

She heard three sharp knocks on the door.

“Come in!”

The door swung open. A man filled the doorway. His jacket was rumpled as if he’d been traveling for hours. Hair tousled, brow creased, he looked exhausted. But those intense blue eyes focused on her with their clear gaze.

“Dexter!” She jumped to her feet, almost tripping over Titan’s basket.

He held his hand up. Tempered by the expression on his face, she stopped.

“What’s the matter?”

He moved toward her and took her face in his hands, then brushed his lips against hers. She tasted salt on his skin and breathed in his aroma—woody spices mingled with the scent of dust from the road.

“I have something for you,” he said.

“A gift?”

“If you like.” He hesitated. “I trust I’ve done the right thing.”

He held out his hand, and she took it. His fingers curled round hers in a tight, desperate grip, as if seeking reassurance. If she didn’t know him better, she’d have thought he looked afraid—like a child, uncertain whether he was about to be punished.

He called out. “You can come in now.”

A woman appeared in the doorway. She wore a plain dress of black wool and a simple cap on her head where gray curls peeked out. Beside her, gripping her hand, was a young boy with a head of thick, brown hair. He stared at Meggie out of wide, expressive brown eyes, and Meggie felt a shock of familiarity. In his free hand, he held a small posy of flowers. They looked the worse for wear—withered and drooping as if he’d been clutching them for hours.

The woman dipped into a curtsey.

“Dexter, who are these people?” Meggie asked.

Dexter nodded to the woman. “Go on.”

“My name is Mrs. Goode, ma’am.” The woman nudged the child. “Introduce yourself, lad, as I told you.”

The child bowed. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. My name is William Goode.”

Dexter drew in a sharp breath.

“Did I do it right, sir?” he asked. “Isn’t that my name?”

He looked up at Dexter, fear and awe in his expression. Dexter must look terrifying to a small child with his powerful physique, dark features, and arresting blue eyes. Meggie pulled her hand free of her husband’s grasp and beckoned to the child.

“Come here,” she said. The boy glanced at the woman, who nodded.

“Go on, lad. You must do as she says now.”

Meggie crouched until she was at the child’s eye-level and held out her hand.

The boy moved forward and took it.

“How cold you are, sweetheart!” she cried. “How long have you been on the road?”

“We left this morning, missus. Just after sunrise.”

“That was hours ago!” Meggie said. “Would you like some hot chocolate? It’s perfect for warming you up when you’ve been outside.” She nodded to Titan, who slept in his basket. “I took my dog for a walk today, and it was so cold, I couldn’t feel my hands! But after a cup of chocolate, they’re as warm as toast, now. What do you think?”

“You’ve got nice hands,” the boy said.

Meggie laughed. “You’re a gallant little gentleman!”

The boy held out the posy of flowers. “These are for you.”

“Why, thank you,” Meggie said, taking them. “They’re beautiful. You know how to woo a lady.”

She looked up and saw Dexter and the woman—Mrs. Goode—both staring at her. Dexter’s eyes shone with pride, but Mrs. Goode’s eyes were wet with tears, and