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Chapter Seventeen
Jackson poured himself a brandy and swirled the amber liquid around in the glass. Something was wrong with Patricia, and for the life of him he couldn’t work out what it was.
He sighed deeply, staring down at the glass in his hand. Her mood had switched so suddenly that it had taken him completely by surprise. The ride within Hyde Park had been all he had hoped for and much more. They had sat down beside the Serpentine River and spoken intimately and easily. He did not think he had ever felt as close to another person as he had with her in those moments.
He took a deep sip of the brandy while trying to work it out. Had speaking about how he had gotten the scar upon his face rattled her? She had been the one to bring up the subject. His instinctive reaction had been to brush it aside and not talk about it with her. She was a lady, after all, as well as his wife. Apart from the fact he had never spoken openly of that terrible time with anyone, it had been drilled into him that one never spoke about the battlefield with ladies. Their sensibilities were just too delicate to endure such plain talk about the horrors of war.
But all of that had been swept aside by her question. He had seen the sympathy upon her face. And she had looked like she sincerely wanted to know. And so he had spoken about it with her. It had been strangely cathartic, as if he was finally unburdening his soul. As if a heavy weight had finally been lifted. He had not told her the whole truth, of course, but it had been enough.
They had shared a passionate kiss afterwards, neither of them caring about being in such a public place. And then, they had ridden back to the townhouse. On that ride his soul had expanded further. They had grown closer still by spending that time together. If it was this good after two days of marriage, how much better could it get between them?
He gulped the brandy, pouring himself another. He could not forget what she had said to him about his scar. About how it was a part of him and she desired him more because of it. He had never thought he would ever hear a woman say such a thing to him. He simply had never believed that any lady could hold him in such regard.
It was as if she had fully healed him within that moment.
He sighed, sitting down in his chair behind his desk. He had been intending to quickly take her up to her chambers as soon as they got home and make love to her quite thoroughly, sealing all that had just occurred between them. His blood had been running like fire through his veins the entire ride just thinking about what he was going to do to her. But as soon as they had dismounted she had claimed she felt ill and fled from him. She wouldn’t even look him in the eye as she had spoken.
His heart lurched. Patricia had not come down for dinner. And when he had knocked upon her chamber door, she had not responded. He had hesitated, not knowing what to do. Sally had bustled towards him in that moment saying that Her Grace was lying down with a bad headache. He had had no choice but to walk away, retreating to his study.
He frowned, sipping his brandy pensively, before placing the glass on his desk. Of course, it could be true. Patricia might just be suffering from a bad headache and needed solitude and rest. But a deep instinct told him there was more to it than that. Still, if she locked her door and refused to speak to him about it, how could he know?
Patience,he told himself. Just let her rest. You do not have to tear down her door like a bull at a gate, demanding to know what is wrong.
Abruptly, he got up and began pacing the floor. His deeply ingrained insecurity was playing up again now. He had opened himself up to her and made himself vulnerable by speaking of his time at war. It had seemed the most natural thing to do in the moment but now he was so unsure. Perhaps he should have deflected her question. It would have been easy enough to do. Had he scared her away just when he thought they were growing closer?
It didn’t help that he wanted her so badly it hurt. It had been haunting him all afternoon and into the evening, even as he worried about her. He just wanted to lay with her again to feel her in his arms once more and brush his lips over that sweet skin and inhale the magic scent of her. The urge was so strong it was taking all his strength not to march up that staircase and kick down the door.
He colored, as shame swept over him. He wasn’t a brute; he would never force himself upon a woman no matter how much he wanted her. It was just that the desire for her was growing as well as his regard. He couldn’t stop thinking about her at all.
He stopped suddenly, staring at the wall.Wasthis love?
He had thought so before when he had beheld her sleeping last night. And now the thought gathered momentum.
He knew that he greatly desired her, and that he admired her as a person as well. But it was so much more than that. He felt as if he was free to express himself with her, more than any other person he had ever known. That she somehow understood him. And he wanted to know more about her. There was an insatiable curiosity growing within him to discover who she was. He almost felt like one lifetime would never be enough to find out everything about her.
His very soul shuddered. His heart expanded. Itwaslove. He was suddenly sure of it.
The urge to run up the staircase again and pound on her door overtook him. It wasn’t the thought of ravishing her this time, though, or finding out if she truly was ill. It was the urge to tell her how he felt about her. To utter the words to her face and see if her own expression mirrored his own. If she might one day come to love him the way that he loved her.
He gave a strangled breath. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything in this life. He knew that she liked him, even desired him. All that had been a wonderful surprise and he would never stop feeling grateful for it. But could she go that one step further and fall in love with him as well?
He was suddenly suffused with a wild hope. Itwaspossible. He had seen it today.
He walked back to the desk, taking a deep gulp of his brandy. Patience. He would leave her alone tonight. She obviously needed rest; whether if she was truly ill or not.
But tomorrow…well, tomorrow was alive with possibility. And he simply could not wait to see her and discover if all his dreams could suddenly come true.
* * *
Patricia awoke the next day abruptly. Her head felt groggy. She couldn’t remember falling asleep again, but this time she knew it had nothing to do with Sally’s bedtime draught. She had refused it outright when the maid had asked her.
Her hand groped the bed sheet. A wave of disappointment swept over her. Jackson wasn’t beside her and judging by the coldness of the sheet, he had never been. She didn’t know why this fact bothered her. She had explicitly shown that she wasn’t receptive to company. She had locked the main door to her chamberandthe adjoining door connecting her room to his as well. He would have had to pick the lock or break it down.
Her heart thudded painfully. What must he be thinking of her? Would he chastise her when she saw him at breakfast?
She rolled over in the bed. Already, she felt tears threatening. She hadn’t wanted to take such drastic action to bar him entry, but neither could she bear the thought of seeing him in her present emotional state. He would be kind to her and try to make love to her and she simply could not stand it. She had to get Eleanor’s advice, and then perhaps they could finally move forward without this shadow looming over them.
She rolled to the other side of the bed, her mind feverish. Perhaps she might resolve matters without even involving him.
