A Momentary Marriage(83)

James collapsed against her, holding her tightly. He knew he was probably crushing her, should release her, but he could not move, could not let her go. Laura made no effort to pull away, only curled her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. There was no reason for that to make him feel so . . . well, he wasn’t even sure what it was he felt. Fierce, somehow, and strong, as if he could do anything, defeat anyone.

It was, he decided, the rush of life in him, the strength and health returning to him after so long. He was himself again. It had been days since a headache or a tremor. He no longer had to brace himself to go up or down the stairs, didn’t have to assume a mantle of ease. He’d returned to riding, and just the other day he had walked all the way down to the castle and back, not even thinking about it.

Tonight had been more evidence of that. The explosion of joy and release. Pleasure that he had thought he would never have again. The bone-deep satisfaction. Of course, he could not remember ever having felt quite this way before. It doubtless would not continue.

But he wasn’t about to give it up now. James rolled to his side, his arms tight around Laura, taking her with him. She nestled into his shoulder as he pressed a kiss into her hair. Closing his eyes, he drifted into sleep.





chapter 31


Laura lay listening to the quiet sound of James’s breathing, aware of the rise and fall of his chest against her back. She didn’t want to sleep yet; it was much too nice to drift in languid contentment, hugging her happiness to her.

She had taken a gamble tonight, knowing her hopes could crumble into dust with one harsh comment from James. But she had had to try it. And she had received more than she had expected or hoped. It had been worth the risk, the embarrassment, even the flash of pain. She had never realized that she could feel so much, want so much. Certainly she hadn’t imagined the paroxysm of pleasure that had rocked her.

It had been more than pleasure. It had been—she searched for a word that would adequately express what she had felt. Fulfillment. That was it. She had felt a wholeness, a completion—even though before now she had never noticed there was something missing.

James’s hold had loosened in his sleep. One arm lay thrown across her. She stroked her finger across his hand, tracing the underlying framework of bone and sinew. He was still too thin. Of course, the taut, honed look suited him—all sharp edges and cold intensity.

He had always borne the look of something coiled and waiting. Years ago, that had been all she saw. Those qualities were still there; James would never be cuddly. But now she saw beneath them to the man inside.

Or maybe it was just that she had been admitted to the small circle of those he cared for. Would he ever come to love her? Laura had no idea. It wasn’t something he believed in. Perhaps her heart would bruise over the years, banging up against the solid wall of his self-containment.

But Laura had no interest in wasting her time thinking about what might or might not happen. The future would take care of itself. Right here, right now, she had everything she wanted. And Laura planned to enjoy it.

When she awakened the next morning, Laura was alone in James’s bed, which was a little disappointing. Still, she could hardly expect him to loll about, waiting for her to wake up. It felt peculiar being in his room all by herself.

Laura rolled over, her face against his pillow. In some small, indefinable way it smelled like him. She nestled there, looking around the room. It brought back memories of those dark, fearful days when James had been so ill. But there were other things about it—his shaving soap and mug on the high shaving stand, the silver-backed masculine brush and comb on the dresser, the flat teak box, standing open to reveal cuff links and tie pins—that were all such reminders of James that they made her smile.

She slipped out of bed. Her dressing gown and night shift were folded neatly on the chair. It made Laura blush a little, wondering if Owen, now James’s valet, had picked them up and placed them there. Or had it been James’s fingers straightening and folding them? That made her blush a little, too, but in a better way.

Pulling on the shift, she belted the dressing gown around her and started toward the door. There, sitting on the dresser, was a tray with covered plates and a pot and cup. Picking up the covers, she found the plates filled with a sampling of the foods usually on the buffet downstairs. She smiled to herself as she poured a cup of tea. She was certain this tray had been sent by James. He was certainly thoughtful for a man who claimed to lack sensitivity.

There was too much food here, even as hungry as she felt this morning. She made a dent in it, though, before she left the room. Fortunately, she did not run into anyone as she slipped down the hall to her room. She wished there was a connecting door between their chambers.