When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal #4) - Stacy Reid Page 0,73

that he’d turned into this marble effigy.

She could feel his heartbeat against her breasts, which she had pressed so firmly against his chest. A wave of heat overwhelmed Phoebe, and she was unexpectedly mortified and intensely aware that she could feel every imprint of her lord’s body against hers. Her fingers tightened reflexively on his shoulder, and his lashes closed briefly, as if he savoured the sting of her nails that penetrated through the layers of his jacket and shirt.

“I’ve been improper,” she whispered, painfully aware of how close his lips were.

Phoebe placed the note close to her cheek. “Please take it back.”

“Read it.”

“I…no, you did not want me to, and I should not have acted with such wanton disregard for your privacy—”

He pressed a finger to her parted lips. Then he lifted those fingers and signed, “Phoebe?”

“Yes?”

“Read it.”

Painfully aware that she was still clasped intimately against him, she turned her head and lowered her gaze to the letter.

Dear Phoebe,

I like you.

I have started out wrong. I am happy that you are my wife. I listen to you sing to our daughter, and her chortles of joy make my heart hurt. I’ve never felt such an emotion before, but I’ve gathered it is a good thing, because I also want to smile whenever I see Franny and you together. Whenever you laugh, her legs kick, and her smile is comparable to the beauty of yours. How I wish she could hear my voice, even if once. How I wish I could sing for you…laugh with you.

I’ve learned the beauty and power in the sweet sounds of laughter since I met you, and I regret, I deeply regret that I might never do the same for you. I now wonder if you would come to dislike my silence and the bareness it can offer. Permit me to give you something I’ve only ever played for myself in the dark of the night when I am alone and wistful. I learned to play the flute on my travels around the world, and it is the only sound my lips can make. Allow me to sing to you, laugh with you, and speak with you with those sounds.

The paper wavered in her hands, and a splat of water dropped on it. With a sense of alarm, she realized silent tears ran down her cheek. She lifted her gaze to him. “I am being silly. I do not know why I am crying.”

He lowered her down, and she was so very aware of the slide of his body against hers.

“Would you…would you play for me now?”

He regarded her silently for a long minute, and she desperately wished she knew his innermost thoughts. He stepped away from her and went to the bookshelves, where he retrieved a rectangular-shaped box with an exquisitely carved design on the surface. Hugh opened it and lifted out a strange flute.

Phoebe gasped at the beauty of it and padded over to his side. It was unlike any she’d ever seen, the colour a pale green, almost like jade. He lifted it to his lips, and she grabbed his wrist, halting him. Phoebe grabbed his hand, tugging him to go with her. She smiled when he followed her to the open window.

“Let’s sneak out here to the gardens.”

He glanced behind them to the door.

“I know we can go outside and exit through the drawing room, but this seems more…exciting.”

His lips curved slightly, and she collected that to mean he approved. She quickly toed off her slippers and swung one of her feet over the window while gripping his shoulder for balance. The day dress rode up her shins to reveal her stocking-clad legs. Feeling his stare on her limbs, she turned away, hiding her smile.

Quickly he helped her through the windows before following. Once he was fully out, she hurried ahead on the stone path to the side gardens. Phoebe gasped when he tugged her arm, and when she whirled around, he glanced pointedly at her stocking-clad feet on the cold ground. Her husband held out the jade flute to her, which she grasped, then he dipped and swept her into his arms. With a squeak, she hurriedly wound her arms around his neck and held on, careful to ensure she did not drop the flute.

A dangerous sensation thrilled in her heart. A hint of a smile hovered about his mouth, but he did not look down at her, just continued toward the gardens with long, powerful strides. Phoebe sensed he