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Chapter Fifteen
Patricia slowly opened her eyes. She was being held in a bear-like grip. She turned over cautiously. Jackson was in the bed beside her wearing his white nightshirt. He was deeply asleep. Bright sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the curtains.
Frowning slightly, she gazed down at herself. She was still wearing her nightgown. What had happened between them the night before?
She strained to remember. She knew she had been very tired at the theatre, almost falling asleep in the chair, despite the quality of the production. At times, she had to dig her nails into her arms to stop herself from drifting away. It would have been so very mortifying to do so. She was the Duchess of Merriweather now, and they had their own private box. People had been glancing up at them all evening from the stalls. Patricia had almost felt like royalty.
She remembered the carriage ride back to St. James, and Sally undressing her. The maid had delivered a warm milk drink, fresh from the kitchen, claiming it would help her rest for the night. It had tasted a little funny, but she had drunk it all down and climbed into bed. Her last thought had been that she hoped Jackson would join her…
“Good morning…wife.”
She jolted. His eyes were open, and he was staring at her, a half-smile playing around his lips. She blushed. She still wasn’t used to having a man in her bed. It just seemed a little odd.
Her blush deepened. “Good morning.” She hesitated, before continuing. “Jackson…did we have –relationslast night?”
His green eyes sparkled. “Do you mean…intimate relations?”
She squirmed slightly. “Yes. That is exactly what I mean.”
His mouth twitched. “You do not remember much after coming back from the theatre, do you?”
Patricia shook her head slowly. It was all rather mortifying, but she truly could not remember falling asleep or him joining her in the bed. She had passed out as heavily as if she had been intoxicated, but she only had one wine with dinner. It was most puzzling.
The strangest part about it was the fact that her head felt heavy, as if it were stuffed with linen. She felt as if she were swimming through murky water.
“So,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Did we, or did we not?”
His smile widened. “What makes you think that we did?”
Her face burnt. “Well, there is the fact that you are in my bed,” she said slowly. “And…and…that is what happens between a husband and a wife, when they are in bed together…”
He reached out a hand, playing with the top of her nightgown, peeking at her breasts beneath. “That is true, Patricia. Husbands and wivesdohave marital relations.”
“So,” she said again, feeling flummoxed. “Did we?”
He laughed, pushing her back onto the bed. “You would remember if we did, my dear,” he said, grinning wolfishly. “I do not make it a habit of having relations with comatose women. If I make love to you, you are going to remember it.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Lord.”
He laughed again. “You truly remember nothing of going to bed?”
She shook her head slowly. “It is most puzzling. I know that I was tired at the theatre, but not quite that tired.” She frowned. “Sally undressed me and gave me a warm milk drink, and that is the last that I recall, I am afraid.”
He sat up a little, gazing down at her. “Wait a moment. You had one of Sally’s milk drinks?”
She nodded. “Yes. Why?”
He laughed again. “Sally can be rather heavy-handed with the rum in her warm milk drinks, Patricia. A tot too many, as Mrs. Clark says. I always make sure I do not ask her for a drink at night if I am having trouble sleeping.” He paused, his mouth twitching again. “Mrs. Clark says that Sally’s drinks could fell a bull.”
Patricia smiled slowly. “You are telling me that I was…in my cups because of one drink from Sally’s hands?”
He nodded, pulling her towards him. “No wonder you do not remember anything, my dear. You probably passed out like a light.” He stared at her intently. “You were sleeping like a baby when I came in here. I did not have the heart to wake you.”
Her heart quickened. The feel of his arms around her. The ardent gaze in his green eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You decided to sleep in my bed rather than go back to your own chambers?” she whispered. “Why?”
He trailed a finger down the side of her face. She felt as if her skin was on fire.
