A Soldier’s Heart(18)
“I promise.” At this moment she would promise to tether him the moon if he wished it.
In response, his lips scorched the tender skin on the side of her neck. Her hands clung weakly to him as his lips worked their way gently from her ear, down her jawline, until at last they touched her mouth. She drank in his deep kiss to store this sweetness within so it would always be a part of her.
He lifted his lips to taste her salty, tear-brimmed lashes. “Don’t open your eyes,” he commanded. With gentle hands he eased her back down upon the pillows and she felt him brush a curl off her face. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart, and dream of my return.”
She did as she was bid, clutching at the top of the sheet with trembling fingers and swallowing down sobs. She felt the bed lift with the removal of his weight, and heard the door click shut behind him. Even then she didn’t open her eyes. Her new happiness had been so short-lived, now replaced by a curious sense of impending tragedy. At the back of her mind she’d known Blackwood would return to war, but it had seemed a distant separation. For the whirlwind days of their courtship, so full of romance and burgeoning emotion, it had been easily disregarded. Now the sheer weight of loss—of something so new and so slightly explored, when she instinctively knew its depths held delight and fulfillment-caused her saddened mind to seek solace in the oblivion of slumber.
She awakened to sunlight streaming through narrow breaks in the heavy curtains. For two deep breaths she was disoriented. The crimson velvet draping the large bed was so vastly different from her narrow cot at home in the rectory. Now this opulent room with the rich hues of an oriental carpet and the fine carved wooden furniture was home. Her home with Blackwood. It seemed but a dream, all of it, but her body told her differently. Last night in Blackwood’s arms had been real.
Hugging herself, she sat up, her eyes feeling puffy and weighted from her bout of weeping. Tears would wash nothing away. Blackwood had returned to his duty as a soldier, and in truth, she must accept it, for she valued his honor as much as his love. She must now, alone, take up her duty as his wife.
A soft knock sounded at the door before it was opened. Instead of a maid, Cecily entered carrying a silver tray with a pot, two cups, and a rack of toast.
“Good morning, Serena. I hope you don’t mind I’ve come to share your breakfast of chocolate and toast.”
Placing the tray carefully on the bed, Cecily eased down beside it. The deep brown eyes were so like Blackwood’s, fresh pain tightened Serena’s throat.
“Thank you, Cecily. I’m afraid I’m not fit company this morning.”
“I understand.” A small hand patted Serena’s bare arm. “It’s of all things unfair. That stupid War Office! Tearing a groom from the bosom of his bride on their wedding night. It’s monstrous!”
This being Serena’s first glimpse of Cecily’s flair for the dramatic, she couldn’t help smiling in spite of her sadness. “I appreciate your sentiments. But Blackwood must do his duty.”
“Matt always does his duty. He’s the most honorable of men. And quite dashing and handsome. Both my brothers are brilliant catches, I’m told. I’ll confess my friends all either have a tendre for Matt or Long.”
Serena’s only contact with the marquess had been at official social engagements, where he seemed to do nothing but glare at her through hooded eyes weighed down by heavy black lashes. She suspected he might hold a certain appeal for some women since his rakish appearance did bear strong resemblance to the heroes in the novels she’d read, but he frightened her.
“I probably shouldn’t be confessing such things to you,” Cecily laughed, pouring them each a cup of steaming hot chocolate. “But you have no need for concern. Matt fell in love with you at first sight and swept you off your feet. It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen! Gossip says you’re the envy of the Season. Never before has anyone had a come-out ball one month and a wedding the next. I plan to do the same, of course.” With a smug smile, Cecily bit into a piece of toast.
The warm, soothing chocolate eased Serena’s tight throat. “Your come-out isn’t until next Season, is it not? It’s difficult to predict how one will react. I could never have predicted what has transpired between Blackwood and me.” Although there was barely a year difference in age, after last night, Serena felt much older and wiser.
“I know exactly how it will be.” Cecily nodded, her dark eyes sparkling above rose-flushed cheeks. “I’ve known since I was fourteen. I’m going to wed Lord Kendall.”