The Ugly Duckling Debutante (House of Renwick #1)(46)

“Is this mine?” she asked breathlessly. She paced around the room excitedly, gazing through the large window and picking up delicate flowers off the bed.

“It’s all yours. I wanted you to have a room of your own, where you felt special.” He was mentally patting himself on the back until he saw the glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. He panicked. “But, if you follow me you’ll see what else I have in store for you.”

He sounded like a bloody tour guide; he wanted to throw a drink in his own face for his obvious display of nerves.

“The rooms adjoin, so mine is just through here.” He led her into his masculine bed chamber. While her chamber was filled with beautiful earth tone colors which he hoped would remind her of the country, his chamber was arrayed in blues and blacks, enough to make any bachelor want to set up camp and never leave again.

She smiled. “It suits you.”

“I’m assuming you mean that as a compliment?” He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed.

She shrugged her shoulders, leaving him in more suspense than he would have liked to admit.

“Are you hungry, Sara?”

Sara bit her lip and avoided his eyes. “I’m embarrassed to say yes, but so many people were talking to me during the breakfast I hardly had time to eat anything at all.”

He had figured as much. Granted, Nicholas hadn’t eaten for entirely different reasons. He was so busy lusting after his wife, he actually paid no heed to anyone, which Lady Fenton had proudly pointed out. “I’ve packed us a picnic,” he said, taking her hand.

“Really?” She brightened up immediately. Heavens above, if that was all it took, he would pack a picnic every day.

“Really,” he confirmed, kissing her hand. “If you’ll just follow me, Lady Renwick, we’ll see if all is ready for us outside.”

“Outside?” she asked warily.

“Would you rather stay indoors?” He stopped in his tracks. Why was this woman, whom he had thought he knew, suddenly such a stranger?

“Um no, no. That’s quite fine. Let’s go outside.” She brushed past him, leaving him staring after her as if someone he didn’t recognize as being his wife. Marriage must do some odd things to women’s nerves.

Normally conversation flowed easily between the two of them, but now it was like pulling teeth. Was she that reserved? He thought she accepted him for what and who he was; now he wasn’t so sure. Why was it that once he was committed to someone, the doubt multiplied rather than diminished? Nicholas shook his head and led her outside to his lavish garden; remembering her love of wildflowers he took her to the field where a basket was already set up.

She ran to it, which was so incredibly like her that it made him chuckle. In seconds, her shoes were off and flying through the air. Her hair, once done in ornate fashion, was hanging all the way down to her shoulders. She looked like a magical fairy princess. And for some reason he didn’t feel like the savior in the story, but the one being saved. He was the black knight stealing the young innocent bride. He needed to restrain himself; he must restrain himself.

Reminding himself of the many reasons for restraint, the walk to meet up with Sara was slow and steady. It was difficult to wipe the silly grin off his face as he watched his personal fairy princess dance in the wildflowers. What would it feel like to be so free? Sitting on the blanket covering the long flowers, he sighed. The colors of white, pink, and purple made Sara’s dress look even more spectacular. He waited a few minutes until she joined him, breathless.

She pulled a flower out of her hair. “This is perfect.”

“I thought you might like it,” he said warmly. “Why don’t we have some lunch and take a nap? I know it’s been a long day for you already.”

Disappointment flashed in her eyes again, but she quickly turned away and lifted a loaf of bread from the basket. What had he done wrong? If she only knew how challenging it was for him just to stay on his side of the blanket. He would never understand women.

They broke the bread and dipped it in oil. “I was half-starved,” Sara murmured. She lay across the blanket seductively. The curve of hips glistened in the afternoon sun. Nicholas tried to speak, but the bread felt solid in his throat. He choked and reached for something to drink.

“Are you all right?” She sat up suddenly.

“Perfect,” he answered, voice raspy. “Something just caught in my throat.” His gaze burned into the inviting angle of her body. God was surely punishing him.





Chapter Eighteen



Sara could do nothing more except throw herself at her new husband. What more did he want? Weren’t they to be married like a real married couple? Did he no longer desire her in that way? She had been so excited about the carriage ride because he kissed her so passionately, now he seemed to be paying more attention to his wine than to her. If he didn’t slow down he would pass out on her before the sun even went down, unless that was his goal all along.

She took her hair down, knowing he loved to see it flow freely around her shoulders She had even done her best to lie across the blanket in a way that brought special attention to the curve of her body; instead he looked away as if angry.

“Nicholas?” she asked coyly.

His gaze was brooding at best; he actually looked upset rather than excited to be sharing a picnic with her.