Beth, he would be able to see the truth himself.
"Yes," he murmured. "She is that."
Marissa gripped her reins tighter and hoped she'd done the right thing. But now she had another secret to keep from Beth.
Strangely enough, she found herself yearning to get Jude alone and tell him her troubles. A very odd feeling to have about a man, wanting to talk with him. Very odd indeed.
Chapter 10
Marissa hadn't come down to luncheon, and Jude was growing worried. The woman loved to eat, though she took such ladylike bites, people didn't notice that her last bite was often from a third serving. How she managed to stay so thin was beyond Jude's understanding.
He frowned down at the carpet as he paced along the hallway.
He'd sent Aidan to find out what the matter was, and her brother had come back to report she was taking a nap. Aidan had gone on his happy way, but Jude couldn't stop worrying.
Was she sick? Or was she regretting the betrothal? He didn't care to see the woman tortured. He truly believed they were compatible or he'd never have volunteered. Did she understand that?
Impatient with his maudlin mood, Jude decided to simply ask her the question himself and headed toward the second floor and Marissa's chambers.
She didn't answer the first soft knock, so he tried again, then wondered if waking her from a nap was counterintuitive to his goal. He had the feeling that Marissa York would not trip lightly from sleep.
"What is it?" she called just as he was turning away.
He tensed in surprise. "It's Jude."
Silence.
"I wanted to check on you."
She murmured something.
Leaning close to the door, Jude thought he caught the word "men," but he couldn't make out much more.
"Just a moment," she said more loudly.
And so Jude found himself standing in the corridor like a child awaiting punishment. A few eternal minutes later, Marissa opened the door and pulled him into her room.
And Jude gawked like a naughty boy.
She looked beautiful. Her normally styled-to-perfection hair was still braided, but the strawberry-blond braid hung down to curve over her shoulder. Her checks and lips were rosy as if she'd been curled beneath warm covers. Her eyes were heavy lidded with sleep. He'd see her like this every morning if they married.
"Would you care for tea?" she asked.
"You're beautiful."
Her brow furrowed with skepticism as she touched the end of her braid with a snort. "You're either mad or a liar. I've been napping."
"Are you ill?"
Her hand went to her stomach, drawing his eve to the soft white peignoir she wore. "No. I only had trouble sleeping last night."
"The announcement?"
Gaze falling to his shoes, she shook her head.
"Not really. I can't tell Beth the truth. I don't want to avoid her, but I don't know what to say."
"Tell her that I kissed you and you couldn't refuse me. Those things are true, after all, if not in that order."
She snuck a tiny smile at that. "You want me to convince her that I love you?"
"Would she believe you?"
"I don't think so. I wrote to her a week ago, after all, and somehow forgot to mention you."
"A tragic oversight." Unable to resist the lovely picture she presented, he stroked the backs of his fingers over her rosy cheek. "Then why don't you tell her that I make you feel things you've never felt before. Would she believe that?" Her cheek grew warmer against his knuckles, and he was sure she leaned her face more fully into his touch.
Her gaze rose to meet his, eyes flashing green heat. "She might."
He couldn't kiss her. Not now. Not in her chambers when she wore that flowing white gown and nothing else. She'd be soft right now if he touched her. Soft and.... He dropped his hand and stepped back.
"I finished your book. You were right. The handsome gentleman did save the day."
Her eyes narrowed with irritation. "Mm. Who is that woman to you?"
"What woman?" He wondered if his face looked as dumbfounded as he felt.
"Patience Wellingsly. Is she your lover?"
"What?" His mind spun with
"Yes," he murmured. "She is that."
Marissa gripped her reins tighter and hoped she'd done the right thing. But now she had another secret to keep from Beth.
Strangely enough, she found herself yearning to get Jude alone and tell him her troubles. A very odd feeling to have about a man, wanting to talk with him. Very odd indeed.
Chapter 10
Marissa hadn't come down to luncheon, and Jude was growing worried. The woman loved to eat, though she took such ladylike bites, people didn't notice that her last bite was often from a third serving. How she managed to stay so thin was beyond Jude's understanding.
He frowned down at the carpet as he paced along the hallway.
He'd sent Aidan to find out what the matter was, and her brother had come back to report she was taking a nap. Aidan had gone on his happy way, but Jude couldn't stop worrying.
Was she sick? Or was she regretting the betrothal? He didn't care to see the woman tortured. He truly believed they were compatible or he'd never have volunteered. Did she understand that?
Impatient with his maudlin mood, Jude decided to simply ask her the question himself and headed toward the second floor and Marissa's chambers.
She didn't answer the first soft knock, so he tried again, then wondered if waking her from a nap was counterintuitive to his goal. He had the feeling that Marissa York would not trip lightly from sleep.
"What is it?" she called just as he was turning away.
He tensed in surprise. "It's Jude."
Silence.
"I wanted to check on you."
She murmured something.
Leaning close to the door, Jude thought he caught the word "men," but he couldn't make out much more.
"Just a moment," she said more loudly.
And so Jude found himself standing in the corridor like a child awaiting punishment. A few eternal minutes later, Marissa opened the door and pulled him into her room.
And Jude gawked like a naughty boy.
She looked beautiful. Her normally styled-to-perfection hair was still braided, but the strawberry-blond braid hung down to curve over her shoulder. Her checks and lips were rosy as if she'd been curled beneath warm covers. Her eyes were heavy lidded with sleep. He'd see her like this every morning if they married.
"Would you care for tea?" she asked.
"You're beautiful."
Her brow furrowed with skepticism as she touched the end of her braid with a snort. "You're either mad or a liar. I've been napping."
"Are you ill?"
Her hand went to her stomach, drawing his eve to the soft white peignoir she wore. "No. I only had trouble sleeping last night."
"The announcement?"
Gaze falling to his shoes, she shook her head.
"Not really. I can't tell Beth the truth. I don't want to avoid her, but I don't know what to say."
"Tell her that I kissed you and you couldn't refuse me. Those things are true, after all, if not in that order."
She snuck a tiny smile at that. "You want me to convince her that I love you?"
"Would she believe you?"
"I don't think so. I wrote to her a week ago, after all, and somehow forgot to mention you."
"A tragic oversight." Unable to resist the lovely picture she presented, he stroked the backs of his fingers over her rosy cheek. "Then why don't you tell her that I make you feel things you've never felt before. Would she believe that?" Her cheek grew warmer against his knuckles, and he was sure she leaned her face more fully into his touch.
Her gaze rose to meet his, eyes flashing green heat. "She might."
He couldn't kiss her. Not now. Not in her chambers when she wore that flowing white gown and nothing else. She'd be soft right now if he touched her. Soft and.... He dropped his hand and stepped back.
"I finished your book. You were right. The handsome gentleman did save the day."
Her eyes narrowed with irritation. "Mm. Who is that woman to you?"
"What woman?" He wondered if his face looked as dumbfounded as he felt.
"Patience Wellingsly. Is she your lover?"
"What?" His mind spun with
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