April Kihlstrom by The Dutiful Wife Page B

anything unseemly and still his instincts warned him there was trouble ahead. He could not imagine what it might be, but that was how he felt nonetheless. Still, taking her to London really was a simple enough way to please her and if she was happy, their wedding night would be that much better. Wouldn’t it?
    Aloud he said, “When we stop to change horses, I shall tell the coachman we are going to London instead of my estate.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.”
    The delight on her face was more than enough to make Edmund glad he had decided to change his plans. Indeed, when she smiled at him in such a way, he felt as though he could do anything. She made him want to be the perfect husband and make her happy. He even found himself thinking of old hopes and dreams, ones he had set aside so long ago. Why had his father never told him this was how it could be?
    * * *
    See? Beatrix told herself. Rothwood
was
kind. He
was
considerate. He
did
care how she felt. A warm glow seemed to run through her and she wished she were sitting beside him, not opposite him. Why had he not drawn her onto his lap? Why had he not kissed her here, in the carriage? He liked kissing, he’d proven that a number of times over the past few days.
    Perhaps he thought she was shy? Perhaps he was worried about her delicate sensibilities? It was an absurd notion, but Mama said it was often so with gentlemen. Perhaps she ought to give him a hint that she welcomed his embrace?
    Carefully Beatrix pulled off her gloves and undid the strings of her bonnet. She set them on the seat beside her, ignoring Rothwood’s look of alarm. When the carriage slowed just enough that she felt safe doing so, Beatrix exchanged her current seat for one next to him.
    “What are you doing?” he asked, looking bewildered.
    She smiled up at him. “Sitting with my husband.”
    He hesitated, then smiled back. He even took her hand in his and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. He took a deep breath and kissed the top of her head. Not quite what she wanted, but still better than the distance that had been between them. She turned her face to look up at him.
    For a moment she feared she had been too bold, but then, with a muffled oath, he swooped down and captured her lips with his own. Yes, this was her Rothwood, her Edmund. This was the man she had wanted to marry, not the rigid fellow he’d been just moments before.
    Still, he broke off the kiss sooner than she would have liked and set her a little distance from him. His breathing was as rough, as ragged as her own.
    “If you do not wish to learn what it means to be a bride, right here in this carriage, it would perhaps be best if you sat on the other seat as before,” he told her, clearly choosing his words with care.
    Was that why he had been holding himself so aloof? Because he wished so much to hold and kiss and, well, do other things with her? Ah, that made all the difference in the world! Beatrix switched seats and put her gloves and bonnet back on. She did not realize she was grinning until she saw a reluctant grin cross Rothwood’s face. He chuckled.
    “We shall make such a scandalous pair,” he said, “if we are not careful.”
    Rothwood seemed in such a genial mood that Beatrix dared to ask some of the questions she had not asked during the short time they had been engaged. “What do you most love to do?”
    His grin broadened. “I’ll be showing you tonight,” he said.
    Beatrix felt herself blush and yet he smiled at her in such a tender way she could not mind his teasing. Still, she persisted. “I think we shall both find that fun,” she agreed, “but I should like to know what you do that makes you happy, what you do as play.”
    He went still. It took him a moment before he replied, and when he did his voice was strained. “I have not had much time for play in my life of late,” he said. “When I turned fifteen, my father said that it was no longer seemly for me to play. I was raised to