Christmas With His Wallflower Wife. Janice Preston
nothing. She sat on the side of the bed, irresolute. Should she go and investigate? Was she overreacting? What if it was just a bad dream…? Surely Alex wouldn’t thank her for disturbing him? And while all those thoughts rushed through her head one bigger, more important question hovered.
Why did Alex leave?
He must be so very disappointed in her, to wait until she slept and then creep away to his own bed. Yet he had been so sweet at the time…his care and consideration for her had filled her with trust and love, and she had vowed to overcome the trauma of Pikeford’s attack and to become a wife to him in every way.
Another shout from the next room wrenched her from her thoughts. She shot to her feet, grabbed her shawl and flung it around her before hurrying to Alex’s bedchamber. She hesitated outside the closed door, raising her candlestick to illuminate the dark passageway, her heart thumping at the low moans sounding from within the room. She tiptoed forward and opened the door, peering around it.
‘No…don’t…no…no…stop…please…no…’
‘Alex?’ Her whisper threaded through his heartfelt pleas.
‘No…no… No!’
She jumped at his final yell, her heart clenching at the sob that followed. She shut the door behind her, set the candle on a chest of drawers, then crossed the room to the bed. The blankets and sheet were pushed away, leaving Alex exposed. He lay on his side, shaking, curled into a ball, his arms bent over his face, his hands hooked over the top of his head.
Uncertainty clutched at Jane’s throat. What should she do? Was it true one should never wake someone from a nightmare? What was happening to Alex in his dreams? She lowered herself on to the bed, swung her legs on to the mattress and then inched closer to him until her hip butted against his back. The entire time Alex emitted low, eerie moans that set the fine hairs on her arms on edge. Slowly, she eased over to face his back and—as he had done with her earlier that night—she nestled her body into his, like spoons in a canteen of cutlery.
‘No…no… Mama…stop…no…’
His cries grew louder and, at the same time, more pitiful.
‘Shhh…’ Jane laid her hand on his arm. ‘It’s all right. I’m here.’
Her whispers were barely audible but, somehow, his trembling lessened and his ragged breathing steadied. She continued to soothe, stroking his arm and his shoulder and then, once he uncurled a little, his sweat-damp hair, as he relaxed and the nightmare loosened its grip. She tugged up the bedcovers and listened to his breathing, until she, too, fell asleep.
‘Janey?’ A hand on her shoulder, shaking her. ‘Janey?’
She stirred. As the voice came again, her eyes flew open. ‘Alex!’
They were facing one another, in bed, his face close to hers.
‘What are you doing here?’
His tousled hair revived the memory of the boy, but his unshaven cheeks and jaw were all man. Heat coiled deep in her stomach as his scent curled through her. Gradually, the events of the night before unravelled in her still-sleepy brain. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
‘I heard you cry out. You were having a bad dream. So I… So I…’
He was so close it was hard to concentrate on what she wanted to say. Warm pressure on her hip alerted her that his hand had moved there and the memory of his kisses sent hot tingles coursing down her spine.
His lips quirked. ‘So you came to rescue me?’ He pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Thank you, Janey.’
‘Alex? What were you…?’
‘Shhh…don’t think about last night. Not now.’
Their gazes fused. His tawny eyes darkened and lowered to her mouth. His hand skimmed up her side…settled at her back, splaying there, holding her still as his lips sought hers in a kiss to melt into. She sighed into his mouth, returning the gentle caress of lips and tongue.
The sound of the door opening ended the kiss. Alex lifted his head.
‘Not now, Drabble.’ Behind her, Jane heard the door click shut. ‘Now. Where were we, Wife?’
Some time later—Jane couldn’t quite swear to how long it had actually been—Alex lifted his head from her breast and smiled at her, a devilish glint in his eye.
‘You’re a bad influence, Janey. The carriage is ordered for nine. We’d better get moving if we’re to leave on time.’
Already glowing, Jane felt a hot blush sweep her entire body until it burned in her cheeks. She felt so restless. She didn’t want to move. She wanted more… Alex had woven such magic with his clever touch and with his lips, tongue and teeth that a hollow, yearning ache had taken up residence between her thighs. His kisses had awakened a fire in her, but she knew he was cautious for her sake. Not once had he attempted to touch her in her most intimate place, the place that was now in such need. Last night, one touch between her legs had sent her into a panic and she was grateful for his continued patience.
She watched him swing his legs out of the bed and rise. He was stark naked, standing with his back to her, rolling his shoulders back before stretching his arms above his head and she watched, fascinated by the slide of golden skin over flexing muscle and solid bone, the broad shoulders above a narrow waist. He had filled out since the times they had swum together in the lake. Then, he had been a boy. Now, he was definitely all man.
Her eyes lowered. To his buttocks. Firm and round. Her mouth watered as she recalled touching them, squeezing them. His legs were straight and well shaped, dusted with dark hairs. They were beautiful. Paler than the skin on his back…did that mean he worked shirtless outside at times? Her heart kicked and her pulse raced. Would she ever get used to his chest?
He turned and her cheeks burned even hotter at being caught ogling her own husband and then scorched at the sight of his erection, standing proud. He grinned at her, totally unembarrassed.
‘That was very enjoyable, Janey.’ His smile faded. ‘You will get over what happened, you know, and I will help you. There is no hurry and, in the meantime, you have discovered other pleasant activities we can enjoy, have you not?’
‘Yes.’ Jane’s gaze clung to his face as she strove to ignore his chest and everything below his waist. She sat up, rearranging her nightgown and tying the ribbons into prim little bows, pulses of heat still sizzling through her from Alex’s attention to her nipples. Her face scorched even hotter. My, that had been an education! ‘I had better return to my room and dress if we are to leave on time. It won’t do to keep the horses standing too long.’
‘That’s what I like about you, Janey. You love horses as much as I do. We’ll make a good partnership.’
As declarations went, it was hardly romantic. But she didn’t expect romance. Not from Alex. At least…maybe in time…? She cautioned herself not to hope for too much. Maybe. Maybe not. For now, she must be grateful she was here, with Alex, and not somewhere with Sir Denzil Pikeford. She suppressed a shudder, the events of two days before sending chills racing through her, effectively smothering those leftover frissons of pleasure.
Alex scooped Jane’s dressing gown from the floor and held it for her. She got up and, as he helped her into her robe, her roaming, random thoughts seemed to crystallise. Her eyes narrowed. She knew Alex of old—he was well practised in avoiding any discussion of subjects he found awkward and uncomfortable. In other words, any subject that threatened to delve too deep into his feelings. He retreated behind his barriers, keeping everyone at a distance, and pretending nothing mattered.
‘Alex…?’