And what about her? What did she feel?
She liked her husband, yes. Flirted with him also. She even admired him in many ways. He’d said he would woo her, and he’d set out to do just that. So just who was peeling back the layers of whom?
Did it even matter anymore?
Her only initial requirement for this marriage had been to fulfill the promise she had made to her mother, that she would marry a man that would fight for her. A man worthy of being called her husband. She hadn’t believed Leeds to be such a man at first, but he had proven himself worthy of her vow. After that, she had simply wanted to get to the bottom of his motive for their rushed marriage.
She hadn’t had all that many expectations, really.
Did that still hold true?
No.
Day by day, moment by moment, she expected a bit more. A bit more laughter. A bit more affection. A bit more hope. Rohan had said dreams were not unyielding objects, that they could reshape and were never lost. So perhaps all her dreams for her future weren’t as lost or out of her reach as she’d thought.
But what if . . . just what if . . .
They had just begun?
*
Could he doit?
No, you can’t do it.
But what if he did do it? He’d done it once before, carried her off over his shoulder. But there were too many people here.They’d cause a scandal. Not that he cared about any of that. But Harriet might.
He couldn’t do it.
I really want to.
She blushed so prettily. He wanted to whisk her off home where they could be alone. Perhaps he could wash her back. Make her blush some more. Chatter over a nightcap.
Will’s eyes shifted back to his wife where she conversed with Graves, flitted over the ribbon in her hair. It had come from the package she had brought back after her outing with Graves. It annoyed him. A little bit. But only because he hadn’t bought her a ribbon yet. He’d only been sending flowers and notes. Should he purchase some ribbons?
No.
Not ribbons.
Friends bought ribbons.
Husbands bought... other things. He’d put a list of ideas together.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Calstone interjected into his thoughts.
Not this again. “How am I smiling?”
“I don’t know. It looks part wolfish, part smug. A wolfish, smug smile.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Me neither,” Harriet said. “What’s this about smug, wolf smiles?” She winked at him, and Will’s entire body went rigid, a certain morning springing to mind.
He inwardly groaned.
“I’d like to see this smile. Do it again—it sounds rather intriguing.” She laughed and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Perhaps I shall be entertained in the morning again.”
That’s it. He was dragging her off.
