With a swallow, he ran his left hand up her calf, then past her knee to the top of her stocking. "I'll try to be gentle." He slipped his thumb inside the edge of her stocking and slowly slid it down her leg until her foot was free of its confines. Then he reached over and removed her other stocking.
Edward placed her stockings beside him then picked up the jar of salve and uncorked it. The smell of the herbs from the ointment filled his nostrils. He dipped two fingers into the jar, coating his fingertips with the thick liquid. Careful not to touch her where it might hurt, he lifted her foot and began to rub the oil along her heel.
"Edward?"
"Yes?"
"Why don't I ever hear you talk about astronomy?"
He finished with her first foot and reached for the second. "I don't know. I never took an interest in it, I suppose."
"So then you don't know which stars' patterns these are?"
He glanced up to the sky. "I know some of the constellations, but not all. Do you like astronomy?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything about it."
"Would you care to learn?" He finished with her second foot and put both of her feet down on the ground so he could lie next to her.
"Do you have a telescope?"
He reached for her hand. "No, but I can buy one. I'll even have a little building set up for it, if you'd like."
Was it his imagination or had she just inched closer to him? "I'm surprised you don't already have such a building."
"That's because I never really formed an interest in astronomy." With his free hand, he plucked up a small patch of grass and then let it go. "My father was vastly fascinated by the mechanics of things such as clocks and automatons. He taught me the scientific formulas that most boys never care to learn. It was what we did together. After Mother died, he all but gave up on life. He didn't care to learn of the mechanics of things any longer." He took a deep breath. "It was like I'd lost him, too."
"Perhaps that's the real reason you started mucking around in the conservatory. It wasn't to discover some herbal cure for Timothy, but to replace your father."
He blew out a deep breath. How was it she had the ability to see in him what others couldn't? "You're right. That was exactly my reason. I wanted an interest of my own. Something I alone understood and didn't have to share with anyone else with the fear that they'd lose interest one day and destroy any enjoyment I'd had in the pursuit right along with the automatons I'd built."
Regina's gasp was like a balm to his aching heart. "He didn't?"
"He did." He twisted his lips at the memory of his father smashing all the automatons Edward had worked so hard to build. "It was far worse at fourteen than it is now. Then, I didn't understand his frustrations hadn't anything to do with me. Now, I know the difference, which is why I still enjoy taking things apart and putting them back together, but not building my own."
"Ever?"
"I wouldn't say never, just not yet. If the son we may one day have found them of interest, I'd teach him how; but, as of now, I haven't had the desire to tinker with them since then."
"Because you prefer your solo pursuits?"
He sighed. "Were he-or anyone else who might live around here-to take a fancy to any of my scientific pursuits, I'd gladly share my knowledge. You should know that." At first, he might have invited her to join him in the conservatory because he felt compelled to entertain her on their wedding trip, but he'd grown fond of having her there. Had she been unwanted or a nuisance, he'd have found something else for her to do after that first day. But he hadn't; he'd enjoyed having her around. And though he'd rather not tell her such and make her feel as if she were nothing but a muse for him and his discoveries, he'd hardly given two thoughts to his flowers and experiments since she'd stopped joining him each day. Odd that.
The crackle of the fire and the quiet noise of the crickets chirping in the distance filled the air. Above them, more stars came out to join the moon in the sky, reminding him of his promise to her about learning more about astronomy together. An idea for the building he'd have to build to house the telescope came to mind. Tall and thin with an interior ladder she could climb to look through the telescope while he stood close behind her, his body pressing hers... Yes, he'd have to order one erected, post haste.
"Edward?"
"Yes, Regina?"
"Thank you for my adventure." Then, before he could form a response, she shocked him to the toes by brushing a sweet kiss on his cheek and then curled up beside him, her body pressed against his, her head lying on his chest that could hardly contain his wildly beating heart.
~Chapter Twenty-Six~
As the cloak of darkness evaporated, so did Regina's boldness. Perhaps it was the way he'd never once lost his temper with her during the day, or the way he'd carried her and gently rubbed salve on her blisters, or even all the personal things he'd revealed about himself. Or, most likely, it was a combination of all three. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. She'd just wanted to be close to him; to feel him and smell him; to hear his heart beating near her ear as she fell asleep.
But now that the sun had returned, so had her modesty.
"I'll go get your clothes," Edward offered. He gained his bare feet and walked to the rope he'd hung.
Shamelessly, Regina watched him. Until last night, she'd never seen him without a shirt. He'd always come to her room with his dressing robe over his nightshirt. When they'd first married, she'd tried to catch glimpses of his arms or shoulders as he'd shrugged out of his dressing robe before joining her in bed.
Edward pulled down her chemise and gown and turned to walk back toward her. The way he held the clothes in front of him blocked her view of the muscled chest she'd rested her cheek against last night, but still gave her a generous view of his broad shoulders, built from years of paddling a small boat full of boys down the river. A smile took her lips. He'd make a great father. A wave of sadness washed over her. He wouldn't get to be a father if they didn't resume marital activities though. Perhaps tonight when he came to her she should meet him standing in front of her bed as she'd done when they'd first married and he came to her room.
Edward approached then and handed her her chemise. "If you'd like to put this on, I'll help you with your gown."
Regina pulled her chemise from his grip, her face suddenly flaming. Did he know what she'd just been thinking? "Thank you."
"You're welcome." With her gown draped over his left arm, he walked over to the shelter where she'd abandoned her slippers.
Quickly, she pulled his shirt over her head and then pulled on her chemise. It didn't offer a lot more covering, but it offered enough. The hem of the shirt barely covered her intimate parts; at least the chemise went down to her knees. "I'm ready," she called.
"I'll be there in a moment," Edward called from inside the shelter. A few seconds later, he emerged with her slippers in his left hand and her gown over his arm, and something she couldn't make out in his right hand.
"What is that?"
Edward walked over to her and held it where she could see his find.
"A turtle?" she said with a squeak, stepping away from the dark green circular object that had six moving parts coming out in every direction, wiggling.
He grinned. "I went in there to see if I could find the pocket watch Jarred left out here and found this. Would you care to touch him?" He lifted the turtle so close to her she could actually see all the little scales that covered his legs.
"You rascal." He'd only asked her that because she'd said she hadn't touched the one she'd seen before.
He held it closer to her. "I should hate for this opportunity to pass you by. You never know when you'll have the opportunity to see another."
"I imagine there are quite a few back at Watson Estate I could pet," she reminded him. Not only had he invited her to do so once before, but last night, he couldn't have been any more clear in his meaning had he shouted it from the mountaintops: anything that was his, he'd gladly share. Whether it was his pet turtles or his love for biological sciences, he'd share. And while she might not have an overwhelming interest in either, she knew his real meaning: nothing he'd invited her to do with him had been done begrudgingly.