They’d arrived in the wee, dark hours of that morning. Since, he’d given her a tour of the grounds he and Althea had stomped over, so damn relieved when joyful memories bombarded him from around every corner, every tree they’d climbed, every stall in the stable one of them had traipsed across or hidden in. The house had been fully prepared for their arrival, elderly but still faithful servants greeting him like the long, lost son he was, rejoicing in his homecoming in ways that told him he could have returned sooner.
Ah, but Nicholas knew his timing was perfect. As was his lady wife, now staring uncertainly toward the ceiling. “I…ahm…”
She was adorable in her anxiety. But he’d rather she be at ease.
“You…ahm…what?” he asked in a coaxing, calm manner completely at odds with the riotous burden of carnal desires storming his every cell. Now that they were this close to that final consummation, it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to pounce on her like a rabid dog in heat.
When she persisted in finding the ceiling worthy of all her attention, he cupped her elbows and sought to soothe her with the—nearly—platonic touch through the layers of her robe and night rail beneath. “Isa…bel…la?” he sang softly.
Finally she left off gazing overhead and gripped the lapels of the dressing gown he’d donned after his bath moments earlier.
Her fingers moved reflexively, nervously. “I… It’s rather chilly in here, isn’t it?”
Time to banish her anxious fidgets once and for all. He bent down and swept her into his arms.
“Nicholas!” Her hands fluttered before she fisted one in her lap and curved the other around his nape. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she said breathlessly. “Do warn me next time.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She instantly huddled into his warmth. “Oh, but you feel nice. Where…where are we heading? The…ah…bed?”
Smiling broadly, because she was finally against his body where he planned on keeping her for the foreseeable future, Nicholas walked right on past the bed where his mother had slept. He’d have the servants burn it tomorrow. Her picture might hang in the portrait gallery, but he wasn’t about to let the rest of her things hang around. Everything else had already been boxed up and shared with his tenants. But that bed had to go.
“My chambers,” Nicholas told his wife, carefully reaching beneath her posterior to turn the knob of the connecting door. “My bed, where I hope you’ll consent to stay and sleep always.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” She sounded suspiciously cool. “I think I’ll have to decide whether it suits me first.”
“Minx.” He secured the door, locking them into their own romantic haven for two. As romantic as he could make it.
Fruit and cheese and bread resided under domed trays (for later he hoped, much later), mulled wine waited in goblets, and the fire had heated the room to perfection. He even had several washcloths at the ready and a basin of warm water waiting near the hearth—for afterward.
He wanted this time to be special for Isabella. As special as she was to him.
When he stood her on her feet, she turned toward the glow, holding her hands out—but still trembling, he saw. “Now this is lovely. All right, I think I’ll stay.”
“Will you now? But you’ve yet to test the bed. How can you be certain?”
“What?” she asked overly brightly, swinging toward his voice. “Shall I jump on it? Test how springy it is? See whether I can touch the ceiling and decide if it will suffice?”
He loved her spirit. Her courage. The way she made him laugh.
“I love you.” The words rumbled from him and he stepped closer. “And I want to love your body. I’ve been holding back, waiting—” Not anticipating their vows, no matter how tempting, because he’d never do anything to dishonor this precious woman.
“Finally!” She gained her position by patting his lapels then she slid her fingers down until she encountered the tie at his waist. Which she immediately proceeded to knot further in her attempts to undo it. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to do your husbandly duty!”
“We only married yesterday”—at Redford Manor, so Anne and Ed, Harriet and her honking goose could be present (he’d yet to figure out the chit’s attachment to it)—“and traveled promptly here—”
“Where I’ve been anticipating this all dratted day.”
Nicholas grinned at the complaint in her voice and helped her with the tie. But she was shuddering now, despite her brave words.