“I suppose so. My father believed women deserved spaces of their own, property, opportunities for education. I will have all that with Hawthorne.” And so would others.
That none of his business, though. She could turn the conversation away from unwelcome subjects as well as he could. “Thank you. Realizing I was the bride you won must have been… shocking. But thank you for going through with it. I am… confident that you will not overstep the terms of the marriage settlement. And I will not be a burden on you, I swear it.”
“You never could be, Caro.” The smallest hitch of his lips, popping a dimple into existence on his cheek.
She pressed the back of her hand to her neck. It was only March. Yet it felt as if the sun had come down from the heavens to pay a call. He possessed the sun in his dimple, only explanation.
They rumbled toward the abbey in companionable silence, and she watched him as he stared off into the distance, his big body spread out, taking up all the space. Even so, she felt comfortable with him, eager to sit in such silence or chatter away. She’d not felt the same around any other man except her father.
Papa.
The gulf of grief in Caroline’s chest had never quite lessened. The waters only became less choppy with time. Her father had lived each day like a new adventure, towing his family along intoevery new current he encountered. But he’d loved her, respected her mind as no one else ever had.
Except, perhaps, Felix. At least once upon a time.
Now, he was disaffected, dangerous, and—still—beautiful. His silence a choice, his distance a symptom of his status—better than everyone else. And desired by everyone, too. Her husband was a man women wanted, and he knew it. Any woman would agree to let him into her bed.
But he’d never want to enter hers.
Which was… perfect.
“I intend to live at Hawthorne,” she said, the words coming out all in a rush.
“Oh?” Slowly, his sharp, blue-eyed attention swung her way.
“So do not worry about me. You may continue as you ever have in London. Do not restrict your activities because you are now married.”
“Activities?” Oh God, she’d never known a man’s lips could be so wicked, carved around a grin. “Which are those?”
No time to be shy. Communication of the utmost importance between a husband and wife, even in a relationship like theirs.
She met his gaze and held steady. “Carnal relations. With women other than me.”
He coughed. “Hell, Caro.” He couldn’t look at her and the sun had got to him, too. Red cheeks, sweat-dappled temples. A crack in his calm.
No, an explosion.
She persevered. “I do not mind. I’m of a modern mind on the subject of marriage. If two people marry for convenience, they should not be required to keep one another as bed partners.”
His gaze burned into hers. “Will you take bed partners other than your husband?”
She blinked away the sun-bright challenge in his eyes, turning away. “I… I had not considered it. No. I do not think thatwould be wise. But… perhaps I will change my mind later.” She peered at him from the corners of her eyes.
He studied the dusty road ahead.
She reached across the space between them and patted his knee, her fingers tapping the edge of his impossibly hard thigh and turning her throat into a desert. Yes, he’d changed in every way over the last decade. She began to understand why women pursued him as they did.
Not that she would. Pursue him.
She took a deep breath. “It’s perfect, Felix. You remain in London, and I at Hawthorne. I will not bother you in the city, and you will not bother me in the country.” She tried to pull her hand away from his knee, but his hand slapped atop hers, pinning it in place. Warm and solid. He possessed the kind of hand that could hold a woman up. Or lay her down upon a bed and—Oh God. The heat pooling in her belly would travel to her cheeks, would give away the wanton way that wicked hand had led her. “What are you doing?”
Lifting her hand now, that’s what he was doing. Not only refusing to give it back, but dragging it toward his face. When he set his lips on her knuckles, she quite forgot how to breathe. “I am man who likes a challenge,” he purred against her skin.
“Yes.” Breathy. Ridiculous. “I’ve gathered.”
“They make me feel alive. And you seem…”
“Irritating?” she offered.
