he’s right, we could save all those people’s lives. What do you think?”
He whirled her around in a mad, improvised waltz. She twined her arms around his neck and held on tight. Maybe before she told him, they could make love one more time. One last time.
“I think you make the world a better place,” she said, and kissed him.
It was only meant to be a simple kiss but he turned it into something longer, and when they broke it off, she was breathless. He smiled against her lips.
“I like it when you kiss me first,” he said.
“I like it when you leap through windows.”
“I’d leap through any window in the world if it got me one of your kisses.”
Then she was smiling too. He did care for her. She was important to him. He enjoyed himself here. He had sought her out. He was learning to see Sunne Park as his home, and her as his wife.
She was worrying unnecessarily. Everything was going to be all right.
“Do you remember that first day we met—I mean, that day in Hyde Park,” Cassandra said. “Do you know what I thought of you?”
“That I was unutterably rude and needed to shave?”
“That too. But you had so much energy, I imagined you had been hit by lightning and the lightning was still bouncing around inside you. And the best part is that when I am with you, that lightning slides inside me too.”
He stilled, for too many beats of her racing heart, and then he cupped her bottom and pulled her against him. “Well, Cassandra, if you want me inside you…”
“Oh! You!”
He feigned innocence. “What? Why do I get the blame when you’re the one saying shocking things?”
His touch and teasing ignited her desire, the potency surprising her given that she was already with child. Yet that desire was maddening too, because she knew what he was doing: He was using it to hide.
He was already running away.
“I have something to show you,” she whispered, reluctantly dragging herself from his arms.
“Mrs. DeWitt! And us in broad daylight too.”
“Hush!”
She led him to the table, where she had left the house plans. Her hands were clumsy as she smoothed them out, and her mouth was dry and confused. To think that when they first met, she did not care what he thought and said whatever she pleased!
Somehow, she untangled her tongue to speak.
“I am proposing a few changes to the house to reflect the changes to the family.” She pointed with one finger and hoped he did not notice it shaking. “This wing here; we don’t use it much. I thought to convert a few of the rooms into an apartment for Mama. It is near the kitchen garden and her distillery, so she can grow herbs and have a patch of garden all of her own. We have no dower house, but this way she can have her own privacy and space, but also be part of us.”
He said nothing, studying the paper, his lips pursed in thought.
“And here, well, I’m doing less with the estate now, so Papa’s study—I mean, the main study—it’s not being used, I mean, except…So…”
No need to say it. He could read the label she had written: “Mr. DeWitt’s study,” with the room next to it designated “Mrs. DeWitt’s workroom,” and she liked the idea that they would be working side by side.
She glanced at him.
He said nothing.
She slid away the top page to reveal the plans for the bedchambers on the first floor.
“With Mama in her own apartments, we can move into the main suites.”
She smoothed her hand over the plans: “Mr. DeWitt’s bedchamber,” and, next to it, “Mrs. DeWitt’s bedchamber.” Not that they ever slept apart now; he used his own room for washing and dressing only. She curled her fingers into her skirts. Still he said nothing. He had gone horribly still.
“Of course, I shall redecorate them extensively, to make them our own, so you must let me know what colors you prefer, or let me choose and…”
Her words trailed away as he touched a finger to the ink.
“Why?” he said, so quietly she barely heard. “Why did you do this?”
She could not understand his question, and his profile gave no clues. “You said I should claim the space, so this is what I’m doing. But our marriage gave you this house too, whatever you say, and you should feel comfortable. ”