To Win His Wayward Wife by Rose Gordon Page B

rest of us.”
    “Do you and your sisters often play jokes on each other?” he asked as he mindlessly traced the surfaces of her ankles and feet with his fingers.
    “Yes,” she said, giggling. “Except not so much since Brooke got her drawers in a twist after a game of charades.”
    “Charades?” he echoed disbelievingly. “You mean the game where you act out a play or poem or something ridiculous like that.”
    “We don’t,” she said plainly. “We acted out a scene about her life that I daresay was more embarrassing for her to watch than participate in.”
    “Did you do it to be mean?” he asked, moving to stand by her bare knees.
    “No. Though I’ll say I was surprised at the time when Andrew continued courting her. Men don’t usually like tears, and if I’m not mistaken, I think she was on the verge of them that night.”
    Silence hung in the air. They both knew why Townson had continued to court Brooke after her near fit of vapors. He hadn’t had a choice. He was indebted to Benjamin to ruin her and vapors weren’t going to put him off. Benjamin swallowed uncomfortably. “What of the other?” he asked suddenly.
    “What other?” she asked, reaching the edge of the water and moving to stand up.
    “The scar on your ankle,” he clarified, trying to look anywhere but at where her chemise was billowing up around her waist.
    “Oh,” she said with a blush. “You don’t want to know.”
    “Yes, I do,” he encouraged with a smile. “Your blush is telling me I want to know.”
    “No, you don’t,” she repeated.
    “Why not?”
    “Because that story isn’t one that you, my husband, would like to hear,” she explained.
    “Please,” he said. “I promise not to react poorly.”
    She picked up a leaf that was floating in the water and wound it around her finger before looking up into his eyes again. “All right. I was trying to catch the attention of a gentleman by going fishing in the Hudson and I slipped on a rock and gnashed my foot against the sharp edge of a nearby rock as I fell.”
    A knot formed in his gut. Robbie was the gentleman she’d been trying to impress by fishing. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. Robbie draping himself all over her, her startled scream, the wet hem on her skirt and Robbie carrying her off to safety. “I see,” he said slowly, forcing a thin smile to his lips.
    “I told you that you wouldn’t want to hear it,” she said, throwing the leaf in the water.
    “Perhaps in the future I’ll believe you,” he said, grabbing her hands. “Now that you’ve learned the backstroke, let’s try some forward swimming.” He started pulling her down the stream by her hands. “Kick your feet.”
    “Like this?” she asked, kicking her feet under the water.
    “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “They’re under the water, I can’t see them. However, since I’m not aware of a wrong way to kick feet, you’re probably doing it right.” He sent her a grin and kicked his own feet to help give them more propulsion.
    “You’re a cheeky one, did you know that?”
    “No,” he muttered honestly. “Normally people think I’m an ass.”
    “Well, that’s because you usually are,” she pointed out dryly.
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome,” she said pertly, making his smile brighten. Nobody ever had the nerve to call him an ass to his face. Behind his back, definitely. But to his face? Never. Except maybe Townson, but that’s different, Townson’s a man.
    “Madison, I wanted to talk to you about something serious,” he said gravely, bringing her laughing eyes to his for a second before uncertainty entered them again. “I wanted to talk to you about our wedding night.”
    Her eyes dropped to his chin and he felt her hands tense. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know you thought I wasn’t coming back, but I was. I was just angry about what happened.”
    “I know,” he said, gently pulling her to him. “Look at me, Madison.” He