Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
When they parted, he searched her gaze to see if she understood. She looked back at him with an unexpected expression. Was it…pity?
“I understand about Felicity,” she said. “I’ll understand if you always love her, as long as you also love me.”
“Why…” He shook his head, kicked from pleasant afterglow into a nightmare. “Why would you say that?”
She only kept looking at him.
“Are you reading my mind?” He’d been thinking about Felicity, and now Elizabeth brought up her name. “I don’t want you to read my mind, if that’s what you’re doing.”
“I’m not. I don’t—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“How does it work? My thoughts are my own. Especially here, now.” Not that he had anything to hide. He hadn’t been pondering his love for Felicity, only his love for the woman in his arms. His kiss had been for her. Elizabeth. Not Felicity.
“I’m sorry, August.” Her face fell as he turned away. “I’m not reading your mind, honestly. I don’t mean to. I don’t know why I said that. Perhaps because Rosalind told me this afternoon that Felicity was coming to England. They’re visiting in the spring.”
“As if I care.” He stood and went for his robe. “It’s embarrassing, that people still go on about me and Felicity, only because I wore my heart on my sleeve when I was young and foolish.”
She watched as he fastened the robe’s belt over his still-apparent arousal. “And now you have put your heart away?”
“No. Why would you say that?” He couldn’t govern his irritation. “I don’t care if she’s visiting this spring or ever again.”
He meant it, at the same time he knew it wasn’t true. Was Elizabeth still reading his mind, hearing his disordered thoughts? She’s invading my privacy. Why did I marry a woman with these kinds of abilities? It made him anxious. Self-conscious. By God, he must take care she didn’t glean the unkind thoughts in his head now.
Of all the women in England, my wife had to be a mind reader. Someone with “gifts.” Irresistible, and unbearable.
He felt strongly, suddenly, that he must get away. He loved her, but he felt too vulnerable to her probing gaze. Bad form to leave her tonight of all nights, but he must teach her she could not use her gifts on him without consequence.
“I’ll leave you to your rest,” he said as kindly as he was able. “Forgive me, but I’d rather sleep in my own room.”
“I understand.” Her wide green eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t cry, darling.”
“I can’t help it. You’re angry with me.” She hugged herself, entreating him from the bed. “I’m so sorry, August. I’ve ruined the entire night, this special night. I promise, I can’t read your mind, your thoughts. I can’t!”
“Oh, but you can.” He leaned down to kiss her, this time on her forehead. “Felicity was in my thoughts when I kissed you, but not for the reasons you think.”
“I don’t think anything. I’m so stupid. I don’t know why I said anything about her, why I felt it was necessary…” She reached out to him. “Please don’t go. I’ll feel bereft if you go. I’ll fall right to sleep if you hold me. I won’t perceive anything more, I promise.”
Anything more. She’d as much as admitted to reading his thoughts.
Still, he could not leave her when she pleaded so. He might be angry and unsettled, but he was not a monster. He relented and took off his robe, returning to lie beside her under the covers. She cuddled against him, needing comfort, which he gave to her.
But not to himself. He felt no comfort, not anymore. He felt guilt. He had been thinking about Felicity.
It was such a difficult habit to break.
Chapter Fourteen
Between Us
August was gone when she woke the next morning. She reached to touch him but found only emptiness.
“He’s gotten up early to work in his study,” she told herself, but it was Sunday, and he was not likely to be at weekday tasks.
She felt achy, both in her body and her heart. They’d been so close last night when they’d made love for the first time. They’d seemed magically connected for precious moments, then she had to open her mouth and say the F word.
She’d only meant to reassure August she understood. She hadn’t read his thoughts, at least not intentionally, but she’d felt a push-pull emanating from him and guessed what it was about. It was hard to love someone, then change course and love another, especially when that person had been thrust upon him in an emergency marriage.
A marriage of convenience, truly.
Now she’d mucked up everything. She could always be counted upon to do that. If they hadn’t already been married, she’d have found herself jilted again, she was sure of it. That thought made her glum, so she stayed in bed longer than she was used to, until the maid tapped on the door and asked if she wished for a luncheon tray.