Page 14 of Marquess of Winter (The Wild Brides #3)

CHAPTER 14

" D o you want to talk about it?" Matthew asked when it had been quiet for several minutes.

He didn't want to force her. He knew how difficult it could be to face one's fears and anxieties. But he also knew that this might be a very important conversation for the two of them to have. If this was going to be a regular occurrence—if she was always going to become frightened in storms—he needed to know about it so that he could make a plan for how to best take care of her. And if it was something specific that had triggered her fear tonight, maybe he could do something to alleviate that moving forward.

Cressida blushed. "I really am sorry about this," she told him.

"You don't need to apologize," he assured her. "Don't worry about that. I don't think any less of you because you were afraid, and I don't mind that you were in the library."

"I think you were angry when you first found me there."

He wouldn't deny it and make her feel unsure of her own memories. "I was angry for a moment, but that wasn't because of anything you'd done," he said. "I thought you had come to the library for some other reason. I saw you there and thought you were sneaking around in the night, making changes to the house again."

"I told you that I wouldn't do that anymore."

"Yes, you did. And I should have taken you at your word. I'm the one who ought to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

She closed her eyes briefly. "This has been embarrassing," she said. "I wish you hadn't seen me that way."

"You're my wife. I imagine you and I are going to get to know a great deal about one another," he pointed out.

It made him feel a bit awkward to say that, since he knew there were secrets he was keeping from her. But that was different, he told himself firmly. The things she didn't know about him were things nobody knew, things it was important to keep secret. Not minor things like a fear of thunderstorms.

"Have you always been afraid of storms?" he asked her.

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Since I was a child," she said. "It was storming the night my mother died."

"I see," he said softly. "It makes perfect sense that you would have developed a fear, in that case."

"I feel foolish."

"That's not foolish at all."

"I know the storm wasn't what killed her," Cressida said. "She was ill. And I was old enough to understand that when—when it happened."

"How old were you?" Matthew asked gently.

"I was twelve years old."

"That's very young," he murmured. "Old enough to understand, yes, but not so old that I would expect it not to hurt you."

He ached for her. He knew very well what it was like to lose a parent, of course, having lost his father not so very long ago. But to go through that loss when you were only a child—that was difficult to imagine.

It did make sense of the way she acted toward her sister. She must have felt responsible for Lady Victoria after their mother's death. "You were left to care for your sister," he speculated aloud.

She nodded. "We had our father, of course, but…well, there's no substitute for a mother's care. I tried to be a mother to Victoria as much as I could. I don't know how well I did."

"You married me to protect her from a marriage you didn't think would make her happy. I have the impression you would have done anything for her."

Cressida nodded. "That's true. I would have. Always."

"And who was a mother to you?"

"I was the eldest."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that it was no one's job to care for me," she said. "Or rather—it was my father's job, I suppose, to ensure that I was provided for, and he always did. But it was no one's duty to care for my emotions the way a mother might have done."

"So you had no one to do that for you?" A weight settled on his heart at the thought of her fending for herself from such a young age. "That doesn't seem right."

"I wasn't alone," she said. "I did have Victoria. She was younger than I was, and she relied on me for most things, but she did care for me—perhaps more than anyone else in my life did. It was she who always held my hand during storms. They never affected her the same way they did me. I think it's because she was just young enough when our mother died that she doesn't really remember it. Not the way I do. She didn't quite understand what was happening at the time, that long night when we sat there holding one another, so she doesn't associate the sound of thunder with fear and loss in the same way as I do. And I'm glad for that."

Matthew nodded. "So she was able to be a comfort to you during storms?"

"That's right."

"They haven't been as bad for you in the past as this one was tonight, then?"

"Not in recent years. Victoria has known how to keep me from getting lost in my fear."

"What does she do?"

Cressida looked at him curiously.

"Well, I ought to know," he said. "Someday there will be another storm, and I'll be responsible for taking care of you. We got through it all right tonight, but I'd like to make sure that I'm able to give you the best assistance I possibly can."

"That's…very thoughtful of you," she murmured.

"There's no need to look so surprised. You're my wife, and besides, I do care about you. I don't want you to be unhappy or in pain. If there's something I can do to make all this easier, I'd like to know about it."

Cressida nodded. "You made it easier tonight," she said. "Having tea brought in—that helped. That was a good distraction. And talking to me. Victoria used to tell stories from our childhood, and what you did was a version of that. And…" Her cheeks turned pink. "You let me hold onto you. You didn't have to do that…but that was probably what helped most of all."

"I never want you to feel as if you can't hold on to me, if that's something that will help you," Matthew said, though he was surprised to find himself making the offer. He hadn't intended to share any sort of intimacy with her, and there was no denying that tonight had been intimate. "You're always welcome to seek me out, and if I can provide you comfort, I'll always want to do that."

"I'm surprised to hear you say it. I thought you didn't want to be close to me."

"I want you to be comfortable," he said. "What you said about my responsibility to you, as your husband, was true. I take that seriously. I wouldn't like to think that my sister's husbands were leaving them alone to be frightened in a situation like this one, so what kind of man would I be if I behaved any differently toward my own wife?"

She looked down, her cheeks still pink. "Well," she said softly, "that's very kind of you. And it does make me feel…more at home. Thank you."

He nodded. "If you're feeling better, perhaps you ought to return to your room?" he suggested. He had no desire to rush her away, but at the same time, it was the middle of the night. "We need to be up early tomorrow so that we can go downtown and buy things we need for Lady Gunderson's ball, and you don't want to be too tired to do that because you were up all night."

"No." She rose quickly to her feet. "And I don't wish to keep you up either. I'm sorry. I should have returned to my room as soon as the storm ended."

"You did nothing wrong," he assured her. "I wanted you to stay and discuss what had happened and what we could do to make you feel safest in the future. But now that we have, I think rest is in order."

"Yes," Cressida agreed. "Thank you, Matthew."

She lingered for a moment, her hand still touching his, and bit her lip.

Matthew was seized by a sudden and inexplicable urge to pull her into an embrace, to let her know that he cared for her more than she was apparently able to see right now and that he would be here to provide for any needs she might have. She had had a dreadful childhood, and he could see that, but things would be different for her now that she had come to live in his house. He would see to it that she was always provided for.

Realizing that Cressida feeling that kind of security was a priority for him was alarming, for he was forced to realize that he had developed feelings he hadn't expected to have for her. He hadn't expected that he would feel anything at all for her. She was meant to be an asset to his business success, nothing more. Instead, he found himself thinking of her much more personally—considering her needs and her feelings.

That certainly hadn't been the plan. She was supposed to be his wife in name only—not on the level of one of his household servants, of course, but not far above that, for her responsibility would be to do as he commanded her to do and never to question his authority.

She had done nothing but question his authority. And in spite of that, he felt more concern for her well-being than he did irritation with her behavior.

The moment passed and she pulled away from him. Now Matthew felt a twinge of regret, as if he should have done something different to take advantage of the time when she had been so close to him. Physically, he found himself missing her, aching for her return, and that was a strange sensation indeed.

She was lovely, of course. He was responding as a gentleman responded to a lady, that was all. It didn't mean anything.

He held himself back and let her depart the room. Then he turned to the maid in the corner. "Take these things out," he said, indicating the tea things. She hurried forward to comply.

Matthew knew that he ought to go to bed. Cressida wasn't the only one who would need to be awake and alert tomorrow. In fact, he should be even more rested than she, for it was he who would be responsible for organizing their affairs tomorrow.

But he didn't get up.

He knew that if he went to bed now, he would not be able to sleep. He would only be able to think about Cressida, and about what had happened between the two of them tonight.

It was the last thing in the world he had expected.

And now he was forced to think how he was going to deal with it. What he was going to say the next time he saw her. What he was going to do the next time it stormed.

He wanted to make her comfortable, yes, but how far did that go? Would he seek her out in a storm in the future? Would he visit her in her quarters to ensure that she was happy and safe? Put his arms around her, even if she didn't reach for him?

Why did that prospect make him feel so eager and excited? Why did he find himself actually hoping that it would rain again soon so that he would be able to reach out for her and give her comfort?

The way she had sought shelter in his arms…no one had ever wanted that from him before. Not like that. It felt powerful. He felt strong.

Was this what it was to be a husband?