Page 26 of A Seaside Scandal (Change of Heart #2)

If given the opportunity, I would surely gulp it all down by the end of the night.

I forced myself to move farther into the room, overly aware of Jonathan’s rigid stance by the hearth. Eliza trailed behind me, eager to assist with my usual evening preparations. But how could I wear my nightdress, or take my hair down, with Jonathan sharing these small quarters?

He is your husband, I reminded myself.

But that didn’t help.

Suddenly, he spoke in a curt voice. “You shall have the bed. I will make do in the chair.”

I scoffed, shaking my head fast. “That is unnecessary. You are taller—you should take the bed, and I shall have the chair.”

“No. You shall have the bed.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “I don’t want it.”

He turned fast. “You are my wife, Alice. Whatever else may be between us, I will not put you from the bed in favor of my own comfort.” His eyes were dark, but the intensity was born of something different than the anger I had seen before.

I had wanted to win whatever this argument was, but at the words my wife, my throat dried up like a leaf. All day I had been thinking of him as my husband. I had not paused to consider his view of me.

Being Jonathan’s anything was more than I could bear at the moment.

I swallowed, a prickle of heat on my cheeks as I walked toward the washstand, beckoning Eliza to follow me.

My reflection in the spotted mirror showed my flushed face, damp curls clinging to my brow.

Drat it all. I hadn’t realized how vibrant my blush could be.

I took a deep breath, willing the color to fade from my cheeks as I dipped my hands in the warm water.

I heard Jonathan’s footfalls as he retreated from the room, and then the thud of the door as it closed behind him. The tension in my shoulders slackened. I would savor my few moments of privacy.

With the mud scrubbed from my hands and my face cleaned, Eliza pulled out the pins in my hair and brushed it smooth. I left it hanging loose, the copper ends reaching halfway down my back. Eliza helped me into my nightdress before taking her leave to the servants’ quarters for the night.

Would she send Jonathan into the room now?

My heart pounded fast as I sat on the edge of the bed.

I would feel like a child if I tucked myself under the blankets to await his arrival but sitting upright in my nightdress also felt strange.

I ran my fingers through my hair, willing my pulse to slow.

Jonathan had seen me looking much worse than this—in the sea, and in the rain and mud.

Surely he wouldn’t even blink twice at my state of undress.

The chair by the fire looked miserably hard, and I regretted not agreeing with his suggestion to sleep in the carriage. He would have been more comfortable there, to be sure.

I had just begun debating crawling under the covers again when the door creaked open just a few inches.

“Alice?”

My heart stalled. I would never grow accustomed to his use of my Christian name. “Yes?”

“May I enter?”

I barely choked out my reply. “Yes.”

Jonathan stepped through the doorway, his tall frame barely fitting under the low ceiling.

He looked much the same as before, but perhaps a little cleaner.

He must have found a washbasin at another area of the inn.

His gaze settled on me, lingering for several seconds.

I tried to read his expression, but it was doing strange things to my insides.

Was he appalled by my loose hair and shapeless nightdress?

Well, what did he expect? My heart continued thudding fast as his eyes took me in.

Then, in an instant, he tore his gaze away, striding toward the chair. “Are you comfortable?” he asked in a stiff voice. After such an intent study of me, he now seemed determined not to look in my direction again. He lifted the poker, shifting a log in the fireplace.

“Yes.” I realized that it was the only word I had uttered since he first opened the door. I swallowed. “But that chair does not look comfortable at all.”

He poked at the fire again. “I slept for part of the journey. I’m not tired.”

I studied the back of his head and his broad shoulders. He had turned away from me so quickly. A pang of embarrassment made my cheeks warm. Either he hated looking upon me, or he was trying to give me privacy. Perhaps both.

I stood. I would have to walk in the narrow space behind him in order to reach the side of the bed that wasn’t wedged against the wall. I brushed past the back of his chair, catching a glimpse of his profile in the firelight. The muscles in his jaw were tight.

“If you do become tired, the bed is quite large,” I said in an offhand voice. “All I require is a small edge.”

“Thank you for the offer.”

I paused as I pulled back the blankets, scowling at the back of his head. How was I to sleep without knowing if he would accept my offer or not? If I awoke from a deep sleep with a man beside me, I could very well scream at the top of my lungs.

Just in case, I moved as close to the wall as possible, leaving the open side available—and the vast majority of the bed. I buried my head in my pillow, facing the wall where Jonathan couldn’t see my face. The fire would keep the room warm and well lit, which was certain to make sleep difficult.

“Goodnight,” I muttered, half-hoping he wouldn’t hear me.

But then his voice came, deep and quiet. “Goodnight, Alice.”