have to do that?”
He stepped out into the light. “Do what?”
“Sneak up on me.”
“I’m clear across the room.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “I think you just enjoy watching me jump.”
His smile was as warm as the water as he ignored her rightful conclusion and approached her. “Is it warm enough?”
“Yes, it’ll do nicely. Thank you.”
Reaching out, he took the hand she’d dangled in the water and brought it near his lips. She felt his breath fan her fingertips.
“You should always smell like this,” he said quietly before releasing her hand. “Enjoy your bath.”
He strode across the room, opened the door slightly, and halted. “You should wear your hair down.”
Maddie watched him slip out of the room and heard his steps fade as he descended the stairs. She crossed the room and quietly opened the door. The hallway was empty. She heard a distant door downstairs open and close. She hurried across the hallway and stepped into the girls’ room, then crossed over to their window. She slipped her fingers between the curtains and peered through the tiny opening she’d created, gazing into the yard that surrounded the back of the house. She watched Jesse walk slowly across the yard, his head bent, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. He stopped, glanced back at the house, then disappeared into the thick grove of trees.
She stood for long moments thinking about him: the way he had looked sharing a confidence with Aaron on the settee when he thought no one was looking; the warmth, the gladness she’d felt when she’d realized he’d been waiting for her in the Princess room. The loss she’d felt when he’d left the room. The greater loss now that she knew he’d left the house as well.
She retreated to the Princess room. She slipped off her clothes and lowered her body into the tepid water, only then realizing how long she must have lingered across the hall. She eased into the water until it lapped at her chin and the delicate scent surrounded her, reminding her of her quest to make her husband happy, a quest shared by one equally anxious to make Charles happy.
When the water grew cold, she rose, stepped from the tub, and dried off with the warm towel that had been set on a chair before the fire. She put her nightgown on and, carrying her wrapper, walked back across the hall to her own room.
Disappointment assaulted her when she saw that Charles had fallen asleep. She eased into bed, trying not to disturb him. Her surprise suddenly seemed insignificant. She remembered Jesse saying to wear her hair down and slipped out of bed. She loosened her braid and brushed her hair until it flowed smoothly down her back. Perhaps the surprise would be as nice for Charles when he awoke in the morning.
She returned to bed, lying on her back, her fingers intertwined across her stomach, her eyes focused on the ceiling. She did not want to lie in bed with her husband and think of his brother, but her mind seemed intent on traveling its own journey.
She remembered the sight of him as she’d stood watching the play of his muscles as he’d moved the tree from their path, the width of his shoulders, the way his back tapered down to meet his narrow hips. She remembered the strength of his embrace, tempered with gentleness, as he’d held her. The tenderness of his smile as he’d reminisced about Charles.
In the hotel room, Maddie had only vaguely understood when Charles had explained about giving other women nothing of equal value in return for their sacrifice. But this afternoon when she’d watched Jesse’s powerful body tamed, when she’d felt his comforting embrace, she’d glimpsed the magnitude of her sacrifice.
7
Taking a deep breath, Maddie stepped off the back porch. The coffee sloshed over the side of the cup she held in her hand. She halted, steadying her hand, steadying her nerves. She heard the resounding thud and crack as Jesse chopped the wood. Regaining her composure, she
He stepped out into the light. “Do what?”
“Sneak up on me.”
“I’m clear across the room.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “I think you just enjoy watching me jump.”
His smile was as warm as the water as he ignored her rightful conclusion and approached her. “Is it warm enough?”
“Yes, it’ll do nicely. Thank you.”
Reaching out, he took the hand she’d dangled in the water and brought it near his lips. She felt his breath fan her fingertips.
“You should always smell like this,” he said quietly before releasing her hand. “Enjoy your bath.”
He strode across the room, opened the door slightly, and halted. “You should wear your hair down.”
Maddie watched him slip out of the room and heard his steps fade as he descended the stairs. She crossed the room and quietly opened the door. The hallway was empty. She heard a distant door downstairs open and close. She hurried across the hallway and stepped into the girls’ room, then crossed over to their window. She slipped her fingers between the curtains and peered through the tiny opening she’d created, gazing into the yard that surrounded the back of the house. She watched Jesse walk slowly across the yard, his head bent, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. He stopped, glanced back at the house, then disappeared into the thick grove of trees.
She stood for long moments thinking about him: the way he had looked sharing a confidence with Aaron on the settee when he thought no one was looking; the warmth, the gladness she’d felt when she’d realized he’d been waiting for her in the Princess room. The loss she’d felt when he’d left the room. The greater loss now that she knew he’d left the house as well.
She retreated to the Princess room. She slipped off her clothes and lowered her body into the tepid water, only then realizing how long she must have lingered across the hall. She eased into the water until it lapped at her chin and the delicate scent surrounded her, reminding her of her quest to make her husband happy, a quest shared by one equally anxious to make Charles happy.
When the water grew cold, she rose, stepped from the tub, and dried off with the warm towel that had been set on a chair before the fire. She put her nightgown on and, carrying her wrapper, walked back across the hall to her own room.
Disappointment assaulted her when she saw that Charles had fallen asleep. She eased into bed, trying not to disturb him. Her surprise suddenly seemed insignificant. She remembered Jesse saying to wear her hair down and slipped out of bed. She loosened her braid and brushed her hair until it flowed smoothly down her back. Perhaps the surprise would be as nice for Charles when he awoke in the morning.
She returned to bed, lying on her back, her fingers intertwined across her stomach, her eyes focused on the ceiling. She did not want to lie in bed with her husband and think of his brother, but her mind seemed intent on traveling its own journey.
She remembered the sight of him as she’d stood watching the play of his muscles as he’d moved the tree from their path, the width of his shoulders, the way his back tapered down to meet his narrow hips. She remembered the strength of his embrace, tempered with gentleness, as he’d held her. The tenderness of his smile as he’d reminisced about Charles.
In the hotel room, Maddie had only vaguely understood when Charles had explained about giving other women nothing of equal value in return for their sacrifice. But this afternoon when she’d watched Jesse’s powerful body tamed, when she’d felt his comforting embrace, she’d glimpsed the magnitude of her sacrifice.
7
Taking a deep breath, Maddie stepped off the back porch. The coffee sloshed over the side of the cup she held in her hand. She halted, steadying her hand, steadying her nerves. She heard the resounding thud and crack as Jesse chopped the wood. Regaining her composure, she
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