To Seduce a Sinner (Legend of the Four Soldiers #2)(27)

“Oh, Sir Mouse,” she murmured to the dog. She stroked the tip of his nose, and his tongue darted out to lick her fingers. “You are my most loyal cavalier.”

Suchlike returned, carrying the hot brick wrapped in flannel. “There, my lady,” she said, shoving the brick beneath the bedcovers. “See if that helps at all.”

“Thank you.” Melisande hugged the brick against her belly. Another wave crested and she bit her lip.

“Can I get you something else?” Suchlike still stood beside the bed, her eyes worried, her hands twisted together. “Some hot tea and honey? Or another blanket?”

“No.” Melisande softened her voice. The little maid really was a dear. “Thank you. That will be all.”

Suchlike bobbed a curtsy and shut the door quietly.

Melisande closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pains. Behind her, she felt Mouse creep beneath the covers and settle his warm little body against her hips. He sighed and then there was silence in the room. Hhern the rer mind drifted a bit, and she shifted a little, groaning under her breath as her belly fisted.

A knock came on the connecting door and then it opened. Lord Vale strolled in.

For a second, Melisande closed her eyes. Why had he chosen tonight to resume his marital duties? He’d kept his distance since their wedding night, presumably to let her heal, and now here he came when she was entirely unable to entertain him. And how exactly was she to tell him that without sinking through the floor in mortification?

“Ah, already abed?” he started to say.

But he was interrupted by Mouse bursting from the covers, leaping atop her hip and barking furiously.

Lord Vale started back, Mouse lost his balance and skidded off her hip, and Melisande groaned as she was jostled by the terrier.

“Has he hurt you?” Lord Vale came toward her, his brows knit, which caused Mouse to bark so hard that all four paws left the bed at once.

“Hush, Mouse,” Melisande moaned.

Lord Vale looked at Mouse with cold blue eyes. Then, in a move so sudden and fast she didn’t have time to protest, he grabbed the dog by its ruff, picked him up off the bed, and tossed him into the dressing room. He shut the door firmly and returned to the bed to frown down at her.

“What is the matter?”

She swallowed, a bit put out that he’d taken Mouse away. “Nothing.”

Her answer caused him to frown more sternly. “Do not lie to me. Your dog has hurt you somehow. Now tell me—”

“It wasn’t Mouse.” She closed her eyes, because she couldn’t look at him and say this. “I have my . . . my courses.”

The room was so quiet, she wondered if he was holding his breath. She opened her eyes.

Lord Vale was staring at her as if she’d metamorphosed into a salted herring. “Your . . . ah . . . quite.”

He glanced about the room as if for inspiration.

Melisande wished she could vanish. Simply disappear into the air.

“Do you . . . ah.” Lord Vale cleared his throat. “Do you require anything?”

“Nothing. Thank you.” She tucked the comforter under her nose.

“Good. Well, then—”

“Actually—”

Her words collided with his. He stopped and looked at her, then gracefully waved a large-knuckled hand for her to speak.

Melisande cleared her throat. “Actually, could you let Mouse out again?”

“Yes, of course.” He strode to the dressing room door and cracked it open.

Mouse immediately da>

Lord Vale arched an eyebrow at Melisande. “Your pardon, but it’s best if we work this out now.”

Once again he moved with startling speed, but this time he reached out and closed his hand about the dog’s muzzle. Mouse must’ve been surprised as well, for he squeaked.

Melisande opened her mouth in instinctive protest, but Vale shot her a glance, and she closed it again. It was his house, and he was her husband, after all.

Still holding Mouse’s muzzle, Lord Vale leaned down and looked the dog in the eye. “No.”

Man and dog stared a moment more, and man gave the dog a firm shake. Then he released him. Mouse sat down against Melisande and licked his muzzle.

Lord Vale’s gaze returned to her. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she murmured.

And he left the room.

Mouse came and pressed his nose against her cheek.

She stroked his head. “Well, you really did deserve that, you know.”

Mouse exhaled gustily and then pawed the edge of the coverlet. She held it up so he could creep beneath and resume his place against her back.

Then she closed her eyes. Men. How was it possible that Vale had had a parade of paramours in the last several years and still didn’t seem to know what to do with his own wife? Even insulated as she was by society, she’d heard whispers each time he’d taken a new mistress or formed a liaison. Each time it was like a tiny bit of glass pressed into the softness of her heart, grinding, grinding, oh so silently, until she no longer noticed when she bled. And now she had him—finally had him—all to herself, and it turned out that he had the sensitivity of . . . an ox.

Melisande turned and thumped her pillow, causing Mouse to grumble as he resettled himself. Oh, this was a great cosmic joke! To have the man of her dreams and find he was made of lead. But he couldn’t be a universally bad lover and have the reputation he had with the ladies of the ton. Some of them had stayed with him for months, and most were sophisticated creatures, the type who could have their pick of paramours. The type who had dozens of men.