“If my mother and family are to think we are married, then it is more than proper.”
“What would de Lohr say?”
“He would congratulate me for my ingenuity. Now, are you going to argue with me all night?”
Truth was, she wanted to. She should have. But his body radiated more heat than a roaring fire and already she could feel it seeping through the coverlet, warming her chilly flesh. She should demand he remove himself immediately, but the warmer she became, the more her protests died on her lips.
“Is that what I can expect every night while we stay here?”
“That would be a fair assessment.”
She sighed sharply, hating herself for giving in to the warmth of his body but enjoying it just the same. But it was more than that; she was enjoying the sheer comfort of his closeness.
“Then let me make something perfectly clear, Rhys du Bois,” she sounded very much as if she was threatening him. “If you so much as touch me or handle me in a way that I deem even remotely suggestive or improper, I swear to you that you will walk from this place missing an eye, and I’ll tell de Lohr every horrible detail and hope he punishes you greatly for it. Is that clear?”
Rhys shifted so her stiff elbow wasn’t jabbing him in the gut and somehow in the process pulled her tighter. “Perfectly, my lady.”
“Good.” Satisfied he wouldn’t try something improper, she allowed herself to relax within his enormous embrace. “Now, I am a light sleeper, so do not move around too much. It will keep me awake all night.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“And do not snore.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“Rhys?”
“My lady?”
“Good night.”
He was staring into the back of her golden red head, smelling the soft scent of lilac and struggling to ignore it. “Good night, Lady Elizabeau.”
It was the best night’s sleep either one of them had ever had.
CHAPTER SIX
It was an oddly sunny morning for November, Elizabeau thought as she strolled through the courtyard of Whitebrook. The sun had been up for some time, evidenced by its position in the sky, and the landscape was lush from the recent heavy rains. All in all, it was a beautiful day and a beautiful land, much different from the filth of London that she had known most of her life.
She had awoken alone in the small bed that she and Rhys had occupied. A fire burned brightly in the hearth and a platter of cold bread and cheese sat on the table near the bed. Someone had put it there for her and she suspected it was Rhys, but he was nowhere to be found so she had eaten all of the food and dressed in the pale green broadcloth that was magnificent with her coloring. The leather girdle had cinched up the surcoat, emphasizing her long torso and slender waist, and she had used a few of the pins to secure her considerable mane at the nape of her neck. Some of the red lip ointment from the tiny alabaster pot went onto her full lips and she dared to use some of the perfumed oil that Rhys had bought her. One smelled like lilac, the other smelled of tuberose. She chose the lilac.
During the entire time when she had eaten and dressed, no one had come to her door. She had been quite alone. Dressed and fed, she decided to go and find Rhys. She was coming to feel a little lost without him around, his massive presence something she had grown accustomed to over the past several days. She would not admit she had become attached to him, too, as a protector and companion. Anything more than that she would once again refuse to entertain. But the fact that he had insisted on sleeping next to her last night was making that increasingly difficult.
So she found herself in the weak November sunshine, gazing up into the clear sky and inspecting her surroundings. She could hear dogs barking and chickens clucking somewhere. Just as she rounded the northwest corner of the manor, young Dylan nearly ran her down.
The lad was chagrinned as she stumbled back, out of his way. His big, dark eyes were wide at her.
“F—forgive me, my lady,” he squeaked; his voice was verging on manhood with that funny squawk to it that young men had when going through the change into maturity. “I did not mean to startle you.”
She smiled at the boy. “You did not overly,” she said. “But you must be in a great hurry this morning.”
He nodded, his nearly-black hair shaggy. “Carys is feeding the fowl, but the geese have come early this year and they are gobbling up everything.” He indicated the barn back to the south side of the manor. “I was going to the stores to get more or else the geese might pick the flesh from her bones.”
Shielding her eyes from the sun, Elizabeau looked over her shoulder at the barn. “I see,” she said. “Best of luck to you, then.”