Page 6

Chapter six

Alexander

Alexander opened the door to his study just in time to watch his new wife descend the staircase. She was absolutely stunning, dressed in the blue gown his mother had worn so often, her chestnut hair tumbling down around her face in waves that looked absolutely effortless.

The word “wife” felt strange, and yet, also completely normal.

“Hello,” he said as she approached, smiling at him.

She was shorter than he’d realized. He’d never been so close to her, except for their wedding ceremony, and he’d been rather distracted then. “I don’t suppose you would like to go for a walk with me?” he said.

She glanced at the window, then back at him.

“I know it’s cold out,” he added, “but I enjoy getting a little fresh air in the evenings before I retire, and I thought perhaps you would like to see a little more of your new home.”

Beatrice smiled at him. “That would be lovely, my lord.”

“It’s Alexander,” he reminded her.

“That would be lovely, Lord Alexander,” she said, with an impish grin.

He could acknowledge the effort she was making, even if he would rather her be more comfortable with him. “I will accept that for now,” he warned, “but I hope that you will soon consider using my name, Lady Beatrice.”

“We shall see,” she responded.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm. “Let us see if your cloak is still around here somewhere.”

Before he could even call, Jenkins had appeared with his coat and Beatrice’s cloak in hand.

“That is what you came in?” he asked, staring at the lightweight cloak, the shame of not sending a carriage for her once again rushing through him. “I cannot apologize enough, my lady.”

“It is perfectly all right,” Beatrice said, as Jenkins helped her with her cloak. “I am used to the cold, my lord.”

“Be that as it may,” he responded, “I should know better than to expect a lady to walk miles through the snow.”

“But this morning, I was not a lady,” Beatrice teased, her eyes bright. “So it is not your fault, and you should not blame yourself.”

Alexander nodded toward her. “I will accept your grace,” he said, “and promise to do better in the future.”

She smiled widely, and he offered his arm as Jenkins opened the front door for them.

He hadn't yet been outside today, and the cold whipped right through him with the northern wind howling around the corner of the building. “Was it this bitter this morning?” he asked, turning to her with wide eyes.

“No more shame, my lord,” she reminded him, clutching his arm tighter. “I survived, and you were more than generous in helping me to warm myself by the fire when I did arrive. And I dare say that I should not expect to be that cold again for quite a long time, maybe even the rest of my life.”

Alexander agreed. Not if he had his way.

As Jenkins closed the door behind them, a blur of orange shot out and settled between Alexander’s feet.

“Who is this?” Beatrice exclaimed in a bright voice as she crouched down to pet Rose.

She was still in her kitten form. She must not be ready to trust Beatrice with her true form yet.

“This is Rose,” Alexander said. “I named her after the rose bushes I found her under.” He had been more surprised than anyone to find the tiny dragon in his garden, and his surprise had only grown when the tiny hatchling transformed into an orange striped kitten in front of his eyes. But transformation or not, leaving her outside hadn’t seemed smart.

And as much as he wanted to share both of his secrets with Beatrice, he could not.

Rose’s identity wasn’t his to share, and even if he wanted to share the details of his curse, it wouldn’t let him.

He waited for a moment until Beatrice stood, smiling down at Rose, and took his arm again. Though they both wore multiple layers, the warm pressure of her hand on his arm was reassuring.

Even if she didn’t know everything, he was no longer alone.

He had always had Jenkins and his wife, but they had kept themselves apart, and he had become very lonely. To have a wife of his own filled a hole inside him that he hadn’t realized existed.

“One moment,” he said, kneeling down and letting Rose climb up onto his shoulder.

“Is your kitten riding on your shoulder?” Beatrice asked, raising her eyebrows at him. “Is that normal for her?”

“It is,” Alexander said, reaching up to scratch Rose under the chin. She purred and rubbed her head against his, digging her claws into his shoulder to hold on. “She’s a strange one.”

“I can see that.” Beatrice’s grip on his arm tightened as the wind began to blow harder.

“Let me show you the gardens,” he said, leading her forward.

“Isn’t it winter?” Beatrice asked with a smile.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But we have a greenhouse, and I think one of our gardeners must have a magic thumb, because our garden tends to remain beautiful for uncommonly long. I believe we even have a few rose bushes still blooming.”

As he spoke, the words filled him with a sense of doubt. Did he have someone on his staff who could use magic? And if he did, would they be able to help him at all? The thought had never occurred to him, but maybe Rose was in his garden for a reason. Maybe she had been drawn there by magic. It had seemed the rose bushes should have long since faded for the year when he had found her curled up underneath them.

As they turned the corner of the manor house and came into view of the greenhouse, a young woman backed out of it with a bucket of dirt in her hands, the door closing behind her. When she saw them, she bobbed a small curtsy, despite her full hands.

“Hello, my lord,” she said.

Alexander nodded. “Hello. May I introduce to you Lady Beatrice Dunham, my wife?” The words felt foreign, and yet they filled him with a warm glow that battled the wind.

“Congratulations, my lord, my lady,” the gardener said, curtsying again. “I believe I am to be Lady Dunham’s maid for the time being,” she said. “I was just finishing in the greenhouse before I ventured inside to clean up.”

Beside him, Beatrice perked up. “You must be Guinevere,” she said, her smile wide enough to brighten her whole face.

“That’s me, my lady,” Guinevere said with an echoing smile, her gaze settling upon the cat perched on his shoulder before looking at him again.

“Is the greenhouse presentable?” he asked.

“Yes, it is, my lord,” Guinevere said, before scurrying out of the way. “I hope you enjoy it.”

Beatrice waited until Guinevere had retreated down the path and turned the corner before turning to him. “You could smile at them,” she said, her eyes dancing merrily. “I think you may have scared her half to death.”

“What do you mean?” he protested. “I just asked if the greenhouse was presentable.”

“In a tone that implied it was her fault if it wasn’t,” Beatrice said, tsking at him. “Now, let me see this greenhouse. I do love flowers.”

Despite the scolding, it felt as if the warmth of her smile should have melted the snow that surrounded them.

“Of course, my lady,” he said, opening the door for her.

Beatrice stepped inside and sighed dreamily as she took in the sights of the greenhouse. It was full of beautiful flowers, blooming long past when they should have due to the warm air, and it was perhaps his favorite place on his estate. He reached out and plucked a rose, offering it to his new wife with a slight bow.

“For you, my lady,” he said.

“Thank you, kind sir,” his wife said, bringing the flower to her nose and taking a deep breath. “It smells wonderful. I’ve never been in a greenhouse before—I can’t believe you have this many flowers still in bloom.”

“I told you,” he said. “It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?”

“I think I could stay in this greenhouse for the rest of my life,” Beatrice said as she turned in a circle to take in the full effect.

He could spend the rest of his life here, too—with her and the flowers and the warmth from the sunshine, and the hope that maybe his wife would be exactly what he needed.

The fact that he had a wife felt odd, and yet somehow, so right.

“I think we should go in,” he said. She was probably growing cold, even in the warmer environment of the greenhouse. He’d have to see about getting warmer clothing for her. “We can explore more tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“I would like that,” Beatrice said with a smile as he opened the greenhouse door for her. “I am looking forward to learning more about the estate.”

“And I look forward to showing it to you,” he said, offering his arm.

Why did the world feel brighter when she accepted?

He’d never considered what it would be like to have a wife that he wanted to spend time with, but he didn’t want to say good night to Beatrice. Perhaps it was because she had always seemed to see the real him, or perhaps it was the way she always smiled at him, but it was confusing.

Why did she change everything?

But he didn’t have time to puzzle through it all tonight. His wife was shivering, and the light was beginning to fade, and he ought to return to his study and get a little more work done before bed. He should send a few things to Riyel with the messenger who was bringing their marriage license to the king, but that was work he didn’t particularly feel like doing when he could instead spend time with Beatrice—which was odd, because he shouldn’t have wanted to spend this much time with her. And yet...

She was beginning to shake, and he should have noticed sooner. He was freezing her for the second time today—he needed to be more considerate of his wife’s comfort, even if she did enjoy being outdoors.

He led her through the hedges and pulled her closer to his side when the path narrowed. It made for a convenient excuse, when really, he just wanted her to share some of his warmth. He almost expected her to lean away from him but instead, she moved closer, her side pressing up against him as they walked.

It was more connection than Alexander had felt with another human since his parents had passed away. It was almost too much, a flood of emotion roaring through his body.

His head urged him to pull away, to avoid the connection, to avoid being hurt again.

But his heart urged him to pull her ever closer.

Beatrice was shorter than him, though not by too much. In fact, she fit against his side like she’d been made to do so.

He would dream about this moment tonight.

Not only because it was the first time he’d had a wife, but because his new wife felt so right.

Alexander opened the front door and ushered his wife into the warmth of the foyer, his hand resting on her lower back. Rose jumped off his shoulder as they entered the house, landing on her feet and launching into a run.

Beatrice laughed as she watched the kitten run away before turning to him with a smile as he helped take off her cloak.

“Thank you for showing me the greenhouse,” she said, her eyes warm and bright.

Not for the first time, Alexander wondered why she had said yes to him. Surely, he was not the only person who had noticed Beatrice Montgomery and been interested in her…and for some strange reason, she had chosen him, of all people.

He was the luckiest fellow in the world.

“I hope you have a good night,” he said, awkwardly. What did you say to a woman who, less than twelve hours ago had no idea that she was going to marry you, and was now your wife? “I must work, but Mrs. Jenkins will see to your needs tonight, and Guinevere will assist you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Beatrice said with a smile.

Alexander gave her a slight bow, surprising himself—but it felt like the right thing to do. “Good night, my lady,” he said.

“Good night, my lord,” she responded with a sweet smile before he turned and walked away.

Did she ever stop smiling?

She was dangerous, and he should keep his distance.

It would be far too easy to fall in love with his wife, and the future was far too unknown. Perhaps if he was not afraid of a sorcerer coming back, he could let himself enjoy her company. But until his birthday, it was better to keep his distance. Until he knew, for better or for worse, what would happen.

Falling for his wife was an unnecessary distraction, and he would avoid it entirely.