A suitable arrangement, p.20
A Suitable Arrangement, page 20
When the time came to retire for the evening, I did as I had done the night before: gave her time to prepare for bed before coming in to do so myself. Gillies often helped me undress in the evenings, but I had given him the night off, just as I had the night prior. I was anxious for the time alone with Juliana—and I intended to put my plan into play.
She was seated at the dressing table on her side of the bed, wearing her dressing gown, the plait of brown hair hanging down her back. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. She had been so relaxed at dinner, but there was a tightness in her bearing now that made me wonder if I was a fool to even consider kissing her.
I had a feeling, though, that the longer I waited, the harder it would become. We were still in the infancy of our marriage, which meant we had not yet established patterns and habits. If I did not make kissing her one of those, it would make it more significant and riskier when I did.
I sat on the edge of the bed to remove my boots, my heart hammering far more quickly than was natural for such an innocuous activity.
“How are things with the tenants?” she asked.
I chuckled wryly and stood. “In a state. But we will come about, thanks to you.” I wanted her to know how much I appreciated what she had made possible by marrying me. “What of your plans for improvements to the castle?”
“Tomorrow we should have paint for the great hall, though the plaster must be seen to before some of the painting can happen.”
I tugged on the sleeve of my tailcoat, cursing my choice to wear my most tightly fitting one when I didn’t have Gillies to assist me out of it. It had been quite a chore to put it on this morning. Perhaps that was why his eye twinkled when I gave him the evening off—he knew what a task I would have peeling it from my body.
Glancing at the mirror to ensure Juliana was not looking, I turned my back to her and yanked on my left sleeve. The fabric was unyielding, as though it had been sewn to the fabric of the shirt beneath. I tried the other one, to no avail. Rolling my shoulders back, I shook them subtly, hoping to dislodge the coat.
A sound from Juliana’s direction made me still. I turned enough to glance over at her. She was trying and failing to mask a smile as she watched me in the mirror.
“Would you care for some assistance?” she asked.
My mouth twitched at the corner. “If you would not mind, that would be very helpful.”
She rose and came over to me. “Perhaps I should have waited. It would have been fascinating to see what other methods you attempted.”
“Thank you for not prolonging my torture,” I said as she stood in front of me.
She slid her hands up into the coat and over my shoulders, pushing on the fabric. My heart thumped, and I wondered if perhaps I should dismiss Gillies and instead ask Juliana for help every day. The coat resisted her efforts, though.
“I quite see the problem now,” she said, pushing more forcefully. “If only your shoulders were not so broad . . . you must roll them back.”
I did as instructed, forcing my mind away from noticing how close she was to me or the feeling of her palms on my shoulders.
Little by little, the coat yielded, finally slipping over my shoulders. She pulled at the edge of one coat sleeve, then the other, until I was free from my cage.
“There,” she said, slightly breathless as she laid the coat over a nearby chair.
I shook out my shoulders. “I think it is time I gave that coat to Blair or Iain.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” she said, smoothing its fabric. “It looks so well on you.”
My eyes flicked to hers, but her focus was on the coat. I put my hands to my cravat and worked at its knot. It was not the usual one, however, and my fingers struggled to find their way.
Juliana looked over at me, watching me for a time, a growing smile on her face. She raised her brows.
I dropped my hands and sighed. “Evidently, I made the wrong choice to give Gillies the night off.”
She walked over, and I lifted my chin to give her the space to work. Each brush of her skin on my neck made my lungs constrict.
“Good heavens,” she said. “Is your valet a sailor? Wherever did he learn to tie such a complicated knot?”
I chuckled as I felt the fabric finally give way and reached my hands to finish the job. They tangled with Juliana’s, and our eyes caught and held.
This. This was the time to kiss her. I felt it in my bones. I could almost hear Iain whispering in my ear, “Don’t be a coward. Kiss your wife, Sandy. Kiss her properly.” I looked into Juliana’s eyes, which gazed up at me, wide and questioning. What was the question, though? Was it, “What are you waiting for?” or “Why are you looking at me that way?”
Perhaps I should ask her which it was.
Her gaze suddenly broke from mine, and her hands dropped. “That should be enough to help you get the rest undone.” She walked toward the bed and pulled her covers back.
Unmoving, I watched her for a moment. I had missed my chance, but I wasn’t certain whether it was because I had taken too long or because she hadn’t wanted what she had seen coming.
There was no veering of her gaze in my direction as there had been last night while I finished undressing, and I sighed as I set everything on the chair for Gillies to see to in the morning.
I blew out my candle and climbed into bed beside her. The only bit of reassurance I found was in the way she didn’t move when our bodies came in contact. Maybe tomorrow. I would not be such a coward tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JULIANA
Papa’s letter arrived the next day. As Augusta showed no signs of improving, he agreed she should leave Lochlarren and join him in Edinburgh, where he would be spending a week on business matters before returning to Newcastle. His letter made me smile, for he was full of good news about investors and buyers. My marriage to Sandy was doing precisely as we had hoped it would do.
And yet, I wanted more. I had thought Sandy might kiss me last night. I could have sworn he was considering it. And yet, the moment had stretched on so long—too long for a man who wanted to do such a thing.
“Papa shall arrive in a few days,” I said to Augusta as we walked on the lawn outside. We never came outdoors without Augusta’s symptoms worsening, but she had insisted, and I couldn’t blame her. She had been cooped up far too long. “He wishes for you to join him in Edinburgh and then back in Newcastle.”
She stopped walking, and I followed suit. There was a crease to her brow as she looked at me. “But . . . but what of you? How can I leave you?”
I lifted my shoulders and looked up at the towering castle. “I shall remain here. This is my new home.”
She swallowed, and there was a pause.
I pulled her hands into mine. “I wish for you to feel well again, cousin. It has been terribly selfish of me to keep you here even this long.”
She looked down at our hands. “I should remain here, Juliana. Perhaps you will wish for someone at your side when the time comes for your confinement. You may need care even before then—perhaps quite soon.”
The heat rose in my cheeks like a fiery sunset, and I looked down. She took it for granted there would be a pregnancy—and soon. Of course she did, because that was what normally occurred. It was the prescribed course of events.
“I do not anticipate such a thing will be necessary,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
I felt her eyes on me as she replied, “You cannot know that, Juliana. Many women feel gravely ill in the early months.”
“I do know it.” I looked up at her, and her eyes searched mine.
“What do you mean, my dear?”
I hesitated before responding. Augusta had never been married. She had no experience in this, and yet I craved for someone to reassure me, to tell me there was nothing wrong with me. “Lord Lismore is not in haste to produce an heir.”
Her brows furrowed, and silence took over yet again. “I do not understand. Do you mean to say . . . you have not . . .?”
I shook my head and looked out toward the loch, forcing a smile. “It is his title, so he must decide how to go about securing its future.”
“But, Juliana,” she said, leaving the thought unfinished as a sneeze took over.
I began walking again. “Let us talk of something else. And perhaps return indoors. Your eyes are looking puffier than ever.”
She stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Juliana, have you any idea why the earl wishes to delay securing an heir to the title?”
I shook my head. Far from reassuring me, this conversation was making me feel my inadequacy even more fully. “To tell you the truth, I have wondered if perhaps his heart is still engaged to Miss Cochrane. This all happened so suddenly, Augusta, and they were intended for one another from a young age. I cannot imagine it has been easy for him to accept so many changes to his future, all at the same time.”
She sighed, and we continued our walk. “No, I am sure it has not been easy. But . . . well, we must hope his sense of duty will prevail.”
I said nothing, for duty was the last thing I wished to motivate Sandy toward me.
Augusta returned to her bedchamber, while I asked one of the maids to take tea to her. I felt restless, needing something to occupy my mind to keep it from avenues I didn’t dare let it explore. It seemed to veer toward a melancholy sort of despair on the one hand or a vibrant, overenthusiastic hope on the other.
Work was the best solution—I had seen it carry Papa through his grief over my mother’s death. I sometimes wondered if that was why he still worked so hard. My plans for the great hall were in my bedchamber, and I hurried up the stairs to retrieve them. Today, I hoped to discover who we could employ to see to the plasterwork on the ceiling.
“Juliana.”
I stopped in the stairwell at the sound of Sandy’s voice coming from below.
I descended a few steps, meeting him near the bottom. He had on a riding coat and boots, and he held his top hat in one hand. Perhaps it would have been simpler to keep my mind on a reasonable path if he didn’t manage to look so very handsome all the time.
“I only thought I would ask if you are in need of anything,” he said, standing on the step just below mine. It made us nearly the same height, giving me a perspective into his eyes I hadn’t before enjoyed. And I did enjoy it, even in the dim light of the stairwell. “I am on my way out with Cairnie for more surveying.”
“It is kind of you to ask,” I said. Part of me wished to invent a need if only to keep him here with me. But he had his own matters to see to, and I did not wish to force him. I wanted him to seek me out of his own accord. “I think things are well in hand, though.”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on me in a strange way, as though he had something more to say. His eyes searched mine for a moment. “Then I shall see you later.”
I smiled softly at him, and he hesitated still. He took one of my hands in his, then leaned in to press his lips against mine.
I sucked in a surprised breath as our mouths met. The kiss was gentle and soft, our lips pressed together while my heart pounded hard and fast.
He pulled back, my hand still clasped between his fingers. “Until this afternoon.”
“Until this afternoon,” I managed to croak out as his hand dropped mine, and he turned and left.
I stayed in the stairwell long after the large wooden door had closed behind him, trying to understand what had just occurred.
Sandy had kissed me goodbye. That was all. We were husband and wife, and he had said farewell for the day in a way natural to two married people. And then he had rushed off.
I tried to convince myself that the kiss meant little. Yet, my mind insisted on traversing the glittering path of hope, demanding I relive every second—all two of them—and look for any hint or sign that it might have been motivated by more.
By the time dinner arrived, I had worked myself up into an embarrassing state, looking through the windows of the great hall every five minutes for sign of his return. Would he kiss me then, as well? It seemed only fitting that a departure kiss would be met with a return one. It was a matter of reason and sense, really. My feelings for Sandy had nothing to do with it.
A visit from Augusta to see my renovation progress, however, must have made me miss his arrival. Dolly informed me Gillies was already assisting his lord in dressing for dinner. I told her I wished to do the same, swallowing the disappointment I felt at the lost kiss.
By the time we went upstairs, Sandy was already in his tailcoat—the same one I had helped him out of last night. My gaze tripped to his cravat, and I noted with a flutter of hope that it was the same knot as last night’s. Would he need my assistance this evening, as well?
He smiled at me. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” I replied as Dolly went to retrieve a dress for me. I glanced at Gillies, who was taking care of the clothing Sandy had been wearing earlier. I could not kiss my husband in front of his valet and my maid.
Could I?
I hesitated, as Sandy fiddled with his collar.
“Here, my lady,” Dolly said, laying a yellow dress on the bed.
“I must speak with Iain for a moment,” Sandy said. “I shall see you at dinner, though.”
“Of course,” I said, smiling.
He nodded, sending me one more glance before Gillies opened the door for him and he disappeared.
I suppressed a sigh and turned to look at the dress Dolly had taken out for me. I had only worn it once before, but I remembered the line of buttons up the back. What would happen if I gave Dolly the evening off?
My insides warmed at the thought of Sandy undoing the buttons for me, and I shut my eyes tightly. What woman in her right mind schemed to force her husband to be close to her? And yet . . .
Had Sandy not worn the impossibly tight tailcoat again? And adopted the same complicated knot in his cravat?
“Dolly,” I said as she helped me shed my day dress, “would you like to take this evening off?”
She paused draping the dress over her arm to look at me. “My lady?”
“You have been working so hard, and I would like you to have an evening to yourself.”
She smiled gratefully. “’Tis too kind of ye, my lady!”
“Nonsense. It is well-deserved.” The look of hesitation on her face gave me pause. “What is it?”
“’Tis only . . . well, if it suits ye, of course, my lady, perhaps I could have tomorrow evenin’ instead? There’s a wee party at my uncle’s house and . . .”
“Of course, of course,” I said. “That suits me quite well.”
She grinned widely, and I stifled a sigh. My scheming would have to wait.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SANDY
As it turned out, kissing one’s wife goodbye was a different matter than kissing her good night. There was note of finality and the safety of departure in the first, while the second was rife with possibility and uncertainty. What would happen after I kissed her good night?
I considered telling Juliana I wished to discuss the matter of an heir, but it had only been a few days since the wedding. Besides, it wasn’t the truth. An heir was not on my mind. Juliana was on my mind. It was our marriage I wished to discuss, but just as Iain had said, I was a coward. I was too afraid to tell Juliana I had begun to desire more from our marriage than simple convenience or a business arrangement. It seemed the height of presumption to do so. What if she did not share my feelings? It would create an unbearable awkwardness, possibly ruining the terms we were now upon.
And how could I expect her to share my feelings? I had explicitly assured her I would not be a demanding husband. Telling her I wanted not just her money and her hand in marriage but her heart also was surely as much as it was possible to demand of a woman.
So, instead, I watched her, looking for signs my wishes were shared to some degree or another—or might be shared in the future. I could wait if that was all that was required. I had kissed her earlier today, an act of selfish bravery immediately followed by a cowardly retreat. She had pulled away the slightest bit at first, enough to make me wonder whether it was surprise or distaste which had caused it. But then she had seemed to settle into it, perhaps even kissing me back?
Cairnie had been obliged to repeat himself on five different occasions due to my head being in the clouds afterward. I didn’t miss the irony of the situation. After so many weeks of preoccupation with my inability to see to all the problems facing the estate, now that I had the capital to do so, I could not focus on them.
Juliana had a restless energy about her as she helped me out of my tailcoat and cravat, and I wondered whether it was due to our kiss earlier. Was I moving too quickly, making her uneasy? I wanted to kiss her again and again, but I reigned in my selfish instincts and merely thanked her for her assistance, hoping the fact that I had allowed her to help me when Gillies might have done so would send her the message that I craved her near me.
When I woke in the middle of the night to find her arm draped across my chest and her face turned toward me, I barely breathed for fear she might wake and pull it away. I prayed it was a sign of things to come. I could be patient until then. I would not rush her or assume she felt the way I did.
“Are you going out again? To the tenant farms?”
I stopped with my fingers around the handle of the front door, turning to see Juliana at the bottom of the main staircase.
“I am,” I said. And I was late doing so, for I had spent no less than twenty minutes pacing in the study, trying to decide whether to kiss Juliana goodbye again. My steward, Cairnie, would already be there, waiting. “Do you need something?” The hope in my voice was so obvious, it was embarrassing.
