Page 106 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

His forehead creased. “If you prefer another night in your own chambers⁠—”

“No, you’re my husband.” She held his hand. “Show me the way.”

Forty-two

Her husband led her upstairs, past his study where they had deciphered her uncle’s journal, and stopped at the next door. After turning the latch, he lifted her into his arms and carried her across the threshold.

Three amber glass lanterns hung from the rafter, bathing the room in golden light. The bed was simple with a smooth headboard and cream linen bedding. The bedchamber wasn’t much different from the one she had been using downstairs, except for his frame drums propped against the walls.

She pecked a kiss on his lips and urged him to set her down. A plush carpet cushioned her steps from the stone underneath. She approached one of the smaller drums to glide her fingers over the stretched hide.

“I like when you talk about your studies,” she said. “I must confess, your skill level impressed me. Is drumming difficult to learn?”

He closed the door. “Would you like a lesson after your lady’s maid helps you dress for bed?”

She tipped her head. Did husbands and wives wear night clothes on their wedding nights? Regina had led her to believe otherwise.

“You needn’t send for Joy, unless helping with my gown is too daunting. Ladies’ undergarments are quite the puzzle sometimes.”

He chuckled. “I imagine we can solve it together.”

“Indeed.” She nibbled her bottom lip, glancing past him to the door.

“If you’re having second thoughts⁠—”

“I’m not, but could we turn the lock?”

His smile was soft, affectionate, as he returned to the door. The tumble and click melted some of the tension in her shoulders, but her breath caught when he began untying his cravat.

She crossed her arms, then dropped them at her sides. What was she supposed to do with her hands now, and why did they feel like foreign appendages?

His eyes appeared darker in the lamplight. “You didn’t answer my question, love. Do you want a drumming lesson?”

Regina had reassured her it was common to be nervous on the wedding night, but Evangeline had always felt at ease with Jonathan. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Should we remove your gown first? The skirts will get in your way.”

“Oh, yes. That makes sense.” She reached behind her back to loosen the sash before turning away. She glanced over her shoulder. “If you can reach the fastener in back…”

He approached her slowly, giving her time to change her mind if she wished. But she didn’t wish it. When he grazed the backs of his fingers up her bare arms, she closed her eyes and leaned against his chest. His warmth wrapped around her, and she was back in the mountains with him—secure and cherished.

As his fingers worked the hook loose, his breath caressed her nape, spreading lovely tingles through her.

“Lift your arms,” he whispered and dragged her gown over her head.

She untied her petticoat while he loosened the laces of her stays. Her light cotton shift did little to hide her figure, but it felt good to be free of so many layers.

“Choose your drum.” Jonathan carried her gown to the wardrobe to hang it on a peg and removed his jacket and waistcoat. When he untucked his shirt tail, she smiled. They were on equal footing again.

“Should I choose a large or small one?”

“The one that calls to you.”

She glanced his way to see if he was teasing, but he appeared earnest. “Very well.”

When she reached the drums, she skipped the smaller one to skim her fingers over the frame of the one next to it. The skin was paler than the rest, stretched taut and secured with grayed nailheads around the rim.

“I recently had that one repaired,” Jonathan said.