While Lady Sinclair was not among one of Regina's favorite people, she admired the way Edward had remained an "always friend" to Lord Sinclair. Never once had he been cruel in his discussion of the man; frank, perhaps, but not cruel. And, he was always quick to take up Lord Sinclair's defense or explain his actions and how they helped Lord Sinclair to understand his duty.
What an admirable man she'd married.
What was there that was admirable about her father? He had money? That wasn't admirable, especially when he used it only to benefit himself. It was sickening.
"I hope you don't mind brown trout," Edward said, banishing all thoughts of her father.
She smiled up at him. "I think I'll manage."
~Chapter Twenty-Five~
A coil of desire twisted in Edward's gut. How did she not know what she did to him?
The rabbit was not a good idea, but the way she smiled at him when he'd come back to the fire holding the fish made him feel as if he were some Crusader who'd just returned from war alive.
He tried not to stare at her, but her sitting position with her skirt spread like a giant fan around her, her brown hair slipping from its pins, and her relaxed face as she leaned her head against the tree was so seductive, he couldn't help himself.
He took his eyes off her just long enough to skewer the fish he'd caught. He held them over the fire, but not too close-he didn't wish to burn their only source of dinner.
"Here," he said, handing one of the fish to Regina when it was done.
"Thank you."
In the morning, he'd be able to catch more fish or pick berries for them before they walked home. Likely, she'd never wish to go on another adventure with him after this one. Even so, this one had been well worth it. Even for as uncomfortable as it was to walk in soaked breeches with splintered feet, he'd enjoyed the second part of their adventure far better than the first; and if he could relive it all over again, he'd have done everything the same.
"I think I'll retire," Regina said after she'd finished her trout.
Edward stood and helped her to her unsteady feet. "Would you like to sleep in my shirt?" As soon as the words were out, he wished he could swallow them again. But he couldn't, they'd already been spoken.
"Will you think less of me if I do?" Her words barely more than an uneven whisper.
"Why would you think that?" She tried to pull free, but he wouldn't let her. "Regina, why would I think less of you?"
"Because I won't be-" she waved her hand through the air- "completely covered."
"You mean because you won't be wearing enough fabric to clothe the both of us while in my presence?"
She nodded.
"No, Regina." Still supporting her with his left arm, he reached his right arm around to her back and undid the first button on her gown. Then the second. The more he undid, the more she relaxed in his hold. "I thought I suggested you not wear stays," he murmured against her ear when he'd released the last button and ran his hand along her back only to find another row of laces.
"You said paniers. There's a difference."
He loosed the top knot. "Which is?"
"When you said paniers, I thought you meant one of my gowns that requires iron hoop stays. I didn't realize you meant I couldn't wear stays at all. Not that it'd matter. I don't have a single gown I could wear without stays."
He tugged another knot loose. How fortunate he was to be born a man. When he'd freed the last knot, he separated the fabric, noting how the chemise she wore under her gown was wet like he'd thought it might be when he offered her his shirt.
Edward stepped behind her, placing one hand just inside each of her capped sleeves. Slowly, he began peeling her sodden gown from her clammy body. Nervous excitement, similar to how he'd felt on their wedding night, coursed through him. He'd never undressed a lady before. His lips longed to kiss the slope of her neck. His fingers wanted to touch her bare flesh and explore her everywhere.
He took a deep breath through his nose, but the scent of her hair so close only excited him more. He swallowed. He had to control himself. She'd come so far since those first few nights he'd visited her after she'd learned the truth. If he went too fast, he'd shatter all the trust he'd built between them.
His hands stilled. When had he come to care so much what someone else thought about him? Normally, he did or said whatever he wanted, heedless of anyone's opinion of him. Why was it different with Regina?
A shiver racked Regina's body, reminding him of his task. "Almost there."
She shivered again.
He moved the top of her gown down past her waist and released his grip, letting it fall into a large pool at her feet. The glow of the fire in front of Regina illuminated her form under her damp chemise. Blood pounded in his ears.
Too excited at the sight of her to trust his voice not to betray him, he slipped away and went to the rope he'd hung to dry their clothes. He pulled his shirt down. Good, it was dry. He carried it to her.
"If you'll step out of your gown, I'll go hang it up while you change into this."
Trembling, whether from cold or nerves, he didn't know, Regina stepped out of the puddle of fabric that surrounded her feet and took the shirt from him.
Trying his damnedest not to peek at her again now that he could see the front of her, he swooped up her discarded clothes and took them over to the rope.
He'd just finished throwing her stays over the line when Regina came up to him and shoved her balled up chemise against his bare chest, walking off as soon as he touched the fabric.
He frowned. "Regina?" He turned in time to see her dashing toward the shelter as fast as her stockinged legs could carry her, the bottom of his shirt barely covering her bare derriere. He tossed her chemise over the rope and started after her. "Regina."
"Urp." She misstepped and almost fell to the ground.
His hands landed on her shoulders to stay her. "Are you hurt?"
"N-"
"Remember, you're only allowed one falsehood per year. You wouldn't want to waste it on something so trivial, would you?"
She sighed. "It's my feet. They started to hurt when we were walking. So I took off my slippers while you were out chopping wood for the fire. But they hurt too much when I tried to put them back on, so I left them off. And now, I seem to have stepped on something sharp."
"A sticker, most likely." He reached down and picked up the box he'd left out that held miscellaneous supplies, then handed it to her. "Hold this. I'll carry you." As soon as her fingers closed around it, he lifted her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees.
Instead of protesting or turning as rigid as a statue at his touch as he'd feared she might, she wrapped her left arm around his neck and leaned her head against his chest as she'd done when they first married.
He carried her to a little spot of smooth, soft grass and set her down on the edge. He wasn't as close to the fire as he'd have liked to be in order to see what was wrong with her foot, but it'd have to do. The tails on the shirt she wore wouldn't be enough protection for her delicate areas were he to place her on a log.
"Is it on the bottom?" he asked, slowly running the pads of his fingers along the bottom of her foot.
"Yes, right there."
He stopped, his fingernail catching on the edge of something hard. He moved his thumbnail to the other side and pulled. "As I suspected, it was a sticker." He threw it behind her. "Any others?" he asked, placing his left hand on her ankle.
She gave a startled scream and kicked him with her heel. "Please, forgive me," she gushed. "I didn't mean to kick you."
"Is something wrong with your ankle?"
"The skin is just sensitive, I think. The slippers I wore today were not made for walking such distances."
"I'd wager you have quite a nasty blister under that stocking." He repositioned them so both of her feet were resting in his lap. "What of the other?"
"It hurts, too."
"Can I have my box, please?"
She handed it to him. "What do you need from in there?"
He flipped the lid on the box. "Salve."
"Salve? Why on earth do you have a jar of salve out here?"
Edward shook his head ruefully. "Have you learned nothing of my brother John during our marriage? On more than one occasion he hurt himself while trying to be devious and found himself in need." He blindly rummaged around until he found the little jar of salve. "Though he was always finding himself in need of saving, he never had a problem saying anything when he was in pain." He glanced over to her face. "I don't know why you feel the need to hide when you're in pain." Actually, that wasn't true; he knew why she did it as well as she did: nobody had ever cared enough about her for her to feel important enough to say anything. He set the box down with a sigh. It wasn't his place to give her a lecture about such matters; as her husband, it was his place to show her she was important and make her believe it.