Page 43

F reddie settled them in front of the fire, tugging a blanket around them both.

Emily’s eyes were already half-closed. She always slept after they made love, but he found it gave him energy; perhaps it was the surge of protectiveness he experienced afterwards.

The one that made him want to turn into more beast than human, that made him want to patrol the perimeter and not let another male near her.

It was an odd primal sensation that he did not seem to shake off no matter how much time they spent in the marriage bed, or out of it.

He began to draw circles on her stomach with his finger and thumb, knowing that his touch often soothed her, sending her into a deeper sleep.

He was rewarded for his efforts with a soft snore and he bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud.

He didn’t stop touching her; he couldn’t.

It was almost instinctual now, part of him that he did not think he would ever lose.

Whenever they were together, he wanted his hands on her, not to bind her to him but to reassure himself that she was still there, that she hadn’t realised what a terrible misfortune had befallen her by marrying him.

He knew his wife was not perfect for everyone.

The more nervous she became, the more prim and standoffish she appeared.

But now he knew that, he could always find some way to make her smile and relax and then she would show her true self to the world.

She sometimes became so lost in a book, it was difficult to get her attention, but if they were alone in their rooms, he would take off his shirt and that seemed to pull her attention from the written word onto other, more pleasurable things.

In other words, she was perfect for him and it worried him that he was not perfect for her.

He could not share her passion for reading, no matter how much he might try.

He could not be a serious intellectual, the type of husband who might suit her better.

He was scared that, once her initial fascination with his body wore off, she would realise what a bad deal she had made.

He wasn’t sure how he would live with her once she came to that realisation.

He was in love with her.

There was no denying it to himself. He’d known it would happen, known that as soon as they were close, that the minute her smile was directed at him there would be no hope for his heart.

Perhaps there never had been. She’d always been the one who had held his attention and now they were married, his obsession was becoming stronger, not weakening.

He was fairly sure she was coming to care for him.

There was no sign of their previous acrimonious relationship.

She took great pains to read things for him as if she just so happened to be saying the words out loud because she wanted to.

It made his heart swell every time she did it; the gesture was sweetly caring when it could have been patronising.

That he loved listening to her speak helped soothe any previous embarrassment he may have experienced at his illiteracy.

With her help, he’d waded through correspondence to do with the entailed properties as well as his own new one.

Most days he went to the site to oversee the work being done to prepare the area for his design.

Emily would come with him. At first he feared she would be bored, but either she walked alongside him or she read beneath a large oak tree.

A few times, he had taken her back to the hollow he would always think of as theirs and reminded her of their glorious wedding day.

Life was perfect and he had never been so terrified.

If someone or something broke this fragile, blossoming thing between him and Emily, it would destroy him.