Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(15)

Mouth dry, she rose to her feet. He'd had enough wine so that he would sleep soundly, and she should be able to slip away. "Being kidnapped is fatiguing. I think I'll retire now."

"I'll help you make up the bed." He stood and led the way into the cottage's only bedroom. It was a cozy chamber, with a broad four-poster bed, a washstand, and a pile of expensive baggage along one wall.

Dominick opened the blanket chest at the foot of the bed to reveal worn but clean bedding. After the two of them had tucked sheets and blankets and stuffed pillows into cases, he said, "I'll join you in ten minutes or so."

Her heart jerked like a terrified rabbit. "I beg your pardon?" she said in freezing accents.

"Don't worry, I'll sleep on the floor, unless you invite me to share the bed," he said mildly. "But I really can't allow you to stay in the room alone. You might decide it's your duty to try to escape."

The beastly man could read her mind. She glared at him. "So even though you claim to love me, I am your prisoner. Have you no shame?"

"I'm ashamed of many things, but not this. You aren't a prisoner. Merely a bride suffering a few qualms."

To her regret, she found that she had a lamentable desire to giggle. Schooling her expression, she said, "Be sure to give me enough time to prepare. Though it shouldn't take long, since I'll have to sleep in my shift."

"If you like, I'll give you one of my nightgowns, though you'll look like a snake about to shed its skin." After digging out a nightgown, he bowed politely, then left.

She undressed and washed, then donned the garment. He was right about the size; it was enormous on her. But the fine lawn fabric was soft against her skin, making her think wicked thoughts.

Everything made her think wicked thoughts.

She dropped a pillow on the floor, then added a couple of blankets from the chest. The pine planks didn't look particularly comfortable, but that was his problem.

After braiding her hair into a long plait, she slid into the bed and pulled the covers over her head. In the darkness, the unreality of her situation washed over her and her happiness leached away. The handsome, dashing man she loved wanted to marry her. It was a romantic dream come true.

Who would have thought that fulfillment of a dream could make one feel so wretched?



*

Dominick allowed Roxanne time to settle herself, then quietly entered the bedroom. She was only a gentle mound beneath the bedcovers with not so much as a single auburn curl showing. He guessed that she was only pretending to sleep, but he didn't challenge that. After a lifetime of maidenly modesty, she was entitled to be nervous at having him so near.

Certainly her proximity unsettled him. How much would she protest if he joined her in the bed? His blood quickened. Though her mind might be doubtful, her body had welcomed his touch. It might take only a few kisses to persuade her to give him what he had dreamed of for a decade.

He was halfway to the bed before he managed to stop himself. It was bad enough that he was abducting her. He could not coerce her into an intimacy for which she was not yet ready.

Suppressing a sigh, he made up a pallet on the floor. He was unlikely to sleep much, so there was no chance she could sneak out without his knowledge.

In deference to his roommate's innocence, he donned one of his seldom-worn nightshirts. Then he blew out the candle, wrapped himself in the blankets, and tried to find a comfortable position. He would rather be in the bed ... but it was still heaven to doze off to the sound of Roxanne's gentle breathing.





Chapter 8





Dominick came awake with a start and lay still for a moment, wondering what had disturbed him. The moon had risen and cool, silvery light illuminated the room. But there was something wrong with the sounds.

After a moment he realized that Roxanne's breathing had changed. No longer smooth, it had become a series of faint sobs.

Stricken, he got to his feet and perched on the edge of the bed. Softly he asked, "What's wrong, my darling vixen?"

"Nothing." She made a choked sound. "Everything!"

He lay down on the bed and gathered her into his arms. Her small, curving body trembled as she hid her face against his shoulder.

"Why did you have to come back?" she said through her tears. "My life wasn't very interesting, but I wasn't miserable. Now I feel like a child pressing my nose to the window of a candy shop, yearning for something I can never have."

"What do you yearn for?"

"F-for love, for happiness, for laughter." She swallowed convulsively. "For you."

"Since you already have me, why are you crying?" he murmured as he smoothed back loosened tendrils of her hair. "I love you. I want to marry you and devote the rest of my life to pleasing you. Why is that such a terrible prospect?"

She began to cry harder. "How can I trust you?" she said haltingly. "You left me once. I'm a very ordinary woman. Once you realize that, you'll leave me again."

He winced. No matter how noble his reasons, he had left her. And once trust was gone, how could it be regained?

Perhaps if she understood why he loved her, she might start to believe in him. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

She gave a small hiccup. "Of course. I was out riding. You were looking for the ruined Roman villa near Maybourne and became lost and wandered onto our land. On that black horse of yours, I thought you looked like a magical druid prince."