"Are you quite finished with your examination of my person?" he inquired with the sort of dry courtesy that concealed the tumult of emotions her unexpected reaction had stirred within him. "Or would you prefer a more thorough inventory ofthe damage that war has inflicted upon your husband's formerly acceptable appearance?"
The teasing note in his voice seemed to break the spell that had held her motionless, and he watched with amusement as a blush spread across her cheeks with becoming rapidity. Yet she did not immediately retreat from his presence, nor did she offer the sort of stammered apologies that proper feminine sensibility would have demanded under such circumstances.
"Pray, forgive me," she said with obvious embarrassment, though her voice carried none of the horror he had expected to detect. "I have not previously had occasion to observe a gentleman in such a state of undress. Most particularly not at such close proximity."
Her admission of inexperience with the masculine form struck him as both endearing and shocking in ways that he had not anticipated, reminding him that despite her practical competence in most matters, she remained essentially innocent of the intimate realities that marriage might eventually encompass. The knowledge that he was quite possibly the first man she had seen in such circumstances filled him with a possessive satisfaction that had no place in their carefully maintained arrangement.
"Indeed," he replied with gravity that did not entirely mask his amusement at her obvious discomfiture. "And what conclusions has your examination led you to draw regarding the masculine form in general and mine in particular?"
Instead of fleeing from such an improper question, as any properly bred young lady should have done, Evangeline surprised him by stepping closer with the sort of deliberate movement that suggested genuine curiosity had overcome social propriety. Her approach brought her within arm's reach of his position, close enough that he could detect the faint scent of lavender that seemed to cling to her hair and the quick rhythm ofher breathing that spoke of emotional agitation.
"Your scars," she said quietly, her voice carrying none of the pity or revulsion he had learned to expect from such observations. "They must have caused you considerable pain."
"They did indeed. Though the physical discomfort proved temporary compared to the other consequences of such injuries."
Her gaze moved from his face to his torso, studying the network of damaged flesh with the sort of clinical interest that might have been displayed by a physician rather than a gently bred female encountering evidence of violence for the first time. Yet there was nothing cold or detached about her scrutiny—rather, she seemed to be absorbing the reality of what he had endured with a sympathy that bordered on the maternal.
"This one," she murmured, extending her hand toward a particularly prominent scar that curved from his shoulder toward his bicep, "it appears to have been quite severe."
Before he could respond to her observation or warn her against such dangerous intimacy, her fingertips made contact with his damaged skin with a touch so gentle that it might have been the brush of butterfly wings. The sensation of her exploring the ridge of scar tissue with careful delicacy sent such an intense shock through his system that he was forced to draw a sharp breath to maintain his composure.
"Evangeline," he managed through a throat that seemed to have constricted without warning, though whether his utterance was meant as encouragement or caution remained unclear even to himself.
She continued looking at her scars, not realising the difficult position he was put in.
"Does it still pain you?" she asked with genuine concern, her hand stilling against his shoulder while her dark eyes sought his face for evidence of discomfort.
"Not in the manner you might expect," he replied with complete honesty, though he suspected she would not immediately comprehend the full implications of his response.
The realization that they were standing together in his private chambers, with her hand resting against his bare skin while she wore nothing more formal than an evening dress that emphasized her feminine curves, struck him with sudden force. The impropriety of their situation was exceeded only by his complete lack of desire to bring it to an immediate conclusion, despite the obvious dangers such intimacy presented to his peace of mind.
"I believe dinner awaits our attendance," he said finally, though his voice lacked the conviction that such a statement should have carried. "And you should perhaps withdraw to allow me to complete my toilette in appropriate privacy."
Yet even as he spoke the words that propriety demanded, he made no move to step away from her touch or to insist upon the proper distance that their circumstances should have maintained. Instead, he found himself studying her face with the sort of intense attention that was becoming habitual whenever she was within his vicinity, searching for signs of the revulsion or discomfort that he had learned to expect from such intimate encounters.
"Of course," she agreed with obvious reluctance, though her hand remained where it was for several moments longer than it should. "Though I confess myself curious about the circumstances that resulted in such injuries. Perhaps you might enlighten me regarding your military experiences during some future conversation?"
The suggestion that she wished to hear details about his service and the injuries that had nearly claimed his life struck him as remarkable evidence of her continued interest in his welfare and character. Most women of his acquaintance hadshown no desire to discuss such unpleasant realities, preferring to maintain the comfortable fiction that war was a glorious adventure rather than a brutal trial that left permanent marks upon both body and spirit.
"If such knowledge would not prove distressing to your sensibilities," he replied carefully. "Though I fear the realities of warfare are considerably less romantic than popular literature would suggest."
"I am not seeking romance, merely understanding," she said with the sort of direct honesty that had marked their best conversations. "You are my husband, and these experiences have shaped the man you have become. How can I hope to know you properly without comprehending what you have endured?"
Her desire to understand rather than simply accept his damaged condition filled him with an emotion too complex to analyze clearly. Here was a woman who sought knowledge of his most painful experiences not from morbid curiosity but from genuine desire to comprehend the forces that had shaped his character—a level of interest in his welfare that exceeded anything he had dared to hope for from their practical arrangement.
"Then we shall discuss such matters when circumstances permit more appropriate conversation," he promised, acutely conscious that their current situation was rapidly approaching the boundaries of what even the most liberal interpretation of marital propriety could accommodate.
"I should very much like that," she replied with obvious sincerity, finally withdrawing her hand from his shoulder with what appeared to be reluctance. "And I should apologise for my intrusion into your private chambers. Wellington's enthusiasm for games of pursuit apparently extends to areas of the house that should be considered off-limits to such activities."
"No apology is necessary," he assured her with completehonesty. "Though perhaps in future we might arrange such conversations in circumstances that do not require you to encounter your husband in such informal attire."
The reference to his state of undress brought fresh color to her cheeks, though she met his gaze with the sort of steady directness that suggested she was not entirely displeased by what their accidental encounter had revealed.
"Indeed," she agreed with a smile that transformed her already beautiful features into something approaching radiance. "Though I confess myself not entirely sorry for the education this afternoon has provided regarding certain previously mysterious aspects of the masculine anatomy."
Her bold admission, delivered with the sort of frank honesty that had marked their relationship from its beginning, sent another jolt of sensation through him. The knowledge that she found his scarred form interesting rather than repulsive, that her examination had been motivated by curiosity rather than horrified fascination, filled him with hope he had not dared to entertain since their marriage began.
"You are remarkably accepting of circumstances that have caused other ladies considerable distress," he observed with careful neutrality, though his voice carried undertones of gratitude that she could not have missed.
