When Love Awaits by Johanna Lindsey Page A

for your help?”
    Leonie reddened. He was right of course. He should not have to ask her for anything. A wife’s duty was to anticipate all of her husband’s needs.
    Yet she did not come forward, for the situation reminded her that she was not a normal wife. Why should only some things apply to her as wife, when the most important things did not?
    “I am not a squire, my lord.”
    He stiffened, looking at her carefully. “You refuse to help me?”
    Leonie shivered. Actual defiance she did not dare, but…
    “There are servants here.”
    “And you would prefer to expend yourself simply to wake one, rather than come near me? It is late, woman. All are abed but you and I.”
    “I…as you wish, my lord.”
    She forced her feet to move, telling herself that at least she had made her reluctance known to him, whether it angered him or not.
    Rolfe began to lower himself to a stool, but she said, “I will need that to stand on.”
    The stool was only two feet high. Rolfe looked at it skeptically anyway. “It was not made for standing.”
    “I have done this for Sir Guibert,” she insisted, climbing onto the stool.
    “You will fall,” he warned her, and she scoffed, “I will not.”
    “I forget how tiny you really are,” he said as he knelt.
    How husky his voice was, a caress. He was lookingup at her, and Leonie refused to meet his eyes. She quickly bent to grasp the hem of his hauberk. The sooner done…
    She had the last of the heavy armor over his head, but she’d forgotten how much weightier his chain mail was than Sir Guibert’s. Her last hard tug sent her backward, the hauberk still in her hands, its weight throwing her off balance.
    “Drop it.”
    She dropped it, and he grabbed her.
    “I think you are not suited for this task,” he said.
    “Put me down.”
    The dismay she felt in being held in his arms made her voice overly harsh. He touched her feet to the floor, then he released her altogether, whereupon she ran to the bed and drew the curtains around her.
    Rolfe picked up the stool and sat down on it, gazing thoughtfully at the bed. His little wife was not going to unbend. He had thought his warning of the day before had given her new incentive, but apparently he had only made matters worse. He ran his hands through his thick hair, exasperated. He had not known what to do yesterday besides give her a show of his temper, but it hadn’t warmed things up, had it? No, anger did not inspire her. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure he could control his temper.
    He’d been stung more than he cared to admit when she professed not to care how many women he had as long as they were not Pershwick women. Jealousy he could understand, but not to care at all?
    How could he reach this lovely girl, show her he wanted to start anew? Had she not guessed his intention in bringing her here?
    Rolfe quickly divested himself of the rest of his clothing. He did not blow out the candle, nor did heclose the heavy curtain on his side of the bed, for that would trap the bed in darkness.
    Leonie had her back to him. She had not disrobed, and she was buried deep beneath the covers. He threw them aside and lifted her off the bed to set her down on his lap. She made no sound. He held her thus, cradled like a child, stiff and unyielding though she remained.
    He held her for a long while, thinking. Finally he asked, “How old are you, Leonie?”
    The voice was soft, yet startling in the quiet room. Leonie actually had to think before she could answer.
    “I have lived nineteen years.”
    “And I ten more than that. Do you think I am too old for you?”
    “I—suppose not.”
    Rolfe nearly laughed at the grudging reply. “Do you abhor my blackness then?”
    “Blackness? You are not so hairy that your golden skin is—”
    Leonie clamped her mouth shut, appalled. Next she would be telling him how handsome he was!
    “Will you tell me, then, what displeases you so about my appearance?”
    There it was. He really did want to hear it.