Sebastian kissed his sleeping wife’s head then whispered. “I have placed my trust in you, Duchess. My heart is in your hands.”
Gwen stirred.
“Shush.” He smoothed her jasmine-scented curls. “Go back to sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
He held his wife as she snuggled closer to him, slipping back into sweet slumber. Glancing at the high ceiling above, Sebastian prayed in silence to his mother.
Please help me not to say or do anything stupid. Oh, and while you’re at it, please guide Gwen back to me, the sooner the better. Your grandchildren are waiting on us.
Sebastian had no doubt that his guardian angel, Rachel Montgomery, the Dowager Duchess of Davenport, was moving heaven and Earth to guide her son and daughter-in-law in the right direction.
At their first overnight stay, Sebastian knocked at his wife’s door before bedtime, carrying a plate of food.
“I told you at dinner that I’m not hungry,” his wife insisted.
He offered the covered plate to her. “Humor me.”
“With one provision,” Gwen sighed as she tightened the sash of her fluffy robe around her waist. “You must share it with me. You haven’t eaten much, either.”
“Slave driver,” he teased.
She gave him a sleepy grin. “Do we have a deal?”
Sebastian agreed and they ate together in semi-silence. It was after dinner that Gwen initiated the conversation.
“This afternoon, on the sofa …” She studied him, gauging his response.
Sebastian covered the now-empty plate and waited for her to continue.
“It was the first time I’ve slept since … well,” A pink stain washed over her high cheekbones. She then looked at her hands, which rested in her lap. “Since our night at Ainsley.”
“I’m sorry for that night, Gwen.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not seeking apology.”
Gwen hadn’t wanted the topic to turn to their lovemaking yet once it had, she knew she must clarify her feelings.
“What happened between us that night deeply saddened me,” her eyes searched his for some spark of understanding as she struggled for the right words. “I missed the tenderness. It is naïve, I know, but I missed hearing you say that you love me.”
Sebastian exhaled, relief flooding him like a strong ocean current. He’d wracked his brain for answers since that night. The one horrible fear that kept returning to him was that his wife didn’t want to be intimate with him, that he repulsed her.
Gwen continued, “Before that night, I hadn’t slept since the night before my father came to visit.”
Struggling to keep his mind focused, Sebastian processed her statements. His wife couldn’t sleep without him? Sebastian’s heart soared with hope.
She needed him.
He took great pains to hide his optimism. “Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know.” Gwen shrugged. “You make me feel safe, I suppose.”
Sebastian clung to that notion. It was a start. “Do you think it would help if I stayed here tonight?”
There was a momentary spark of fear in her eyes. Although it vanished in an instant, he saw it nonetheless. Not wanting to chase her away, he wasted no time clarifying. “I mean just to sleep, of course.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
He shook his head then gave her a reassuring smile before removing his boots and reclining in the chaise near the window.
His wife’s forehead crinkled with lines of concern as she sat on the bed in the middle of the room.
“What?” He arched his brow. “I’ll have you know, I have slept in dozens of chairs.”
“Liar.” She meant it as a joke of course, yet he frowned in spite of that. “Sebastian, I was teasing you.”
His expression was sober. “Yet there is some truth to it.”
“Come over here.” Gwen patted the spot beside her.
He didn’t move.
Although Gwen’s tone was soft, it held a strong resolve. “Please.”
As if with great apprehension, Sebastian complied at last. He didn’t join her under the covers, choosing instead to sit next to her on top of the down comforter that lay across the bed.
“Please relax.” Gwen lounged on her right side, under the covers facing him. “The goal is for me to sleep, remember? I can’t do that if you’re sitting upright in that rigid manner.”
Sebastian reclined next to her, still on top of the covers.
Gwen stifled a giggle as she teased, “I promise your virtue is safe. Please get under the covers.”
He obeyed his wife, pursing his lips in an attempt to suppress his grin.
“Shall we discuss what upset you just now?” she asked. He could feel her watching him.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he responded. She’d said the same thing to him once, at the stables.
A smile tugged the corners of her heart-shaped lips. “A wise man once told me that running away from something doesn’t make it go away.”
“What kind of a fop would say such a thing?” He rolled on his side, facing her.
Her eyes grew serious. “A rather extraordinary fop.”
“There is no such thing.”
Without warning, Gwen reached for him, tracing the bridge of his nose with her forefinger. She then placed her hand on the pillow next to her face. “What you said to my father before our wedding ceremony no longer matters.”
His face was inches from hers as he inhaled her sweet jasmine scent. “Be honest with me.”
“I am.” Gwen rested her palm against his cheek, as if in an attempt to reassure him. “There was no malicious intent. Although I wouldn’t want you to lie to me ever again, I know now that you meant well.”
“When did you come to that decision?” Sebastian asked then tried to keep his face still, enjoying the weight of her hand against his skin. He missed her too much.
Gwen removed her hand and a jolt of disappointment shocked him.
“Let’s just say things are in perspective now.” Her stare held his.
Sebastian longed to caress her, to kiss her, to hold her but he couldn’t. Not yet, not until she gave him an indication that she was ready.
His wife stirred him from his thoughts.
“Would you mind holding me?” Her voice was a faint whisper, her freshly scrubbed face youthful.
Sebastian rolled onto his back, lifting his arm so she could nuzzle in the crook of his arm. He then kissed her head. “I never object to holding you.”
From that night on, he made a habit of not eating his dinner. Each evening he would bring a plate to his wife’s room, although the portions were much larger than that first evening.
After they ate, they would talk for a little while then she would fall asleep in his arms.
On the last night of their journey, her voice became shaky as he held her. “I dread tomorrow. It’s been such a relief to me that we’re traveling slowly, prolonging our arrival.”
Sebastian had suspected as much. Instead of speaking, he caressed her shoulder in lazy circles with his thumb.
“It’s such a cold place. I find myself wishing that my father’s estate had burned to the ground instead of some poor man’s livelihood. Isn’t that awful of me?”
“No, you’re human. For God’s sake, Gwen, the man tried to kill you.” He kissed her head. “I would worry for your sanity if you didn’t feel that way.”
She buried her face deeper within his embrace. “It was my fault. I taunted him.”
“Look at me.” Sebastian turned then tipped her chin toward him. “You are not responsible for your father’s behavior. None of his actions were your fault.”
His wife nodded.
Sebastian kissed her forehead in an attempt to smooth the creases of concern that lined it. “Regardless of what happens in the next few days, lean on me. I promise you, I will get you through this.”
Gwen had never heard sweeter words. Even Sebastia
n’s “I love you” couldn’t compare to the selfless support he was offering her.
He filled her heart.
It was the first time since her father’s repugnant confessions that she felt something other than hollow.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me.” Gwen leaned forward, pressing her lips against his cheek in a soft kiss. “I don’t deserve you.”
His love for her had unknowingly saved her from an incestuous marriage and he had tolerated her erratic behavior ever since she learned the truth. Gwen was certain she indeed did not deserve him.
She fell asleep thanking God for bringing Sebastian into her life.
The following day, on an unseasonably cold and dreary afternoon, the procession of coaches adorned with the Duke of Davenport’s family crest arrived at the MacAlistair ancestral home.
As Gwen alighted from the family’s coach, she was saddened that the manor hadn’t changed very much in the months she’d been gone. She had hoped it would look less imposing, less rigid, yet to her dismay, it still resembled a prison.
Their party was met in the foyer by the family butler. A mean-spirited man who was loyal beyond reason to his employer and had never liked the man’s children. Gwen wondered, as she surveyed his pock-marked face and pursed lips, if he had been privy to her father’s secrets.
The sour butler instructed a maid to direct the gentlemen to their rooms before leading Gwen to hers. Jane accompanied her mistress and clucked her tongue with disapproval as he led them into the guest quarters, and the least fancy ones at that.
Refusing to allow the man to witness any sign of her displeasure, Gwen’s smile was warm and her tone sweet like honey. “Gawain, you are such a dear. The last thing I wanted was to be in the family wing, and here you read my mind. Thank you so much.”
She scrutinized him and, just as he was closing the door, Gwen saw him grimace.
“Gotcha,” she said in a singsong voice to the closed door.
Her merriment was short-lived.
Upon sitting on her trunk, Gwen surveyed the dark, dank room. It had once been an attractive shade of periwinkle; however, the color had long since faded. As her eyes scanned the table and chairs in front of the fireplace, her heart sank even further. At least an inch of thick dust covered the whole room.
Damn that man. She had always despised the nasty old butler. Sitting in silence, Gwen contemplated the many ruthless ways she would fire him.
Jane gasped as she caught sight of dust on her dark skirts. “Good heavens, what on earth was that madman thinking when he put you in here?”
Gwen watched her maid attempt to brush her skirts free of the dust. It was a futile effort if ever she saw one. “I believe he is punishing me. He never liked me very much.”
“Well, we’re going to make certain you get another room. The nerve of that man,” Jane’s indignation on behalf of her mistress surpassed Gwen’s.
Smiling at her companion’s loyalty, Gwen was quick to assuage her. “Thank you Jane, but I wouldn’t dream of giving him the satisfaction.”
“I understand, my lady.” Jane’s expression softened. “Why don’t you take a walk while I straighten up in here?”
“Jane, don’t you do any such thing. It is not your job and besides, I won’t get one minute of sleep in this house so it’s not worth the trouble.”
Her maid grimaced then Gwen decided a walk was in order, exiting only after Jane promised not to clean the wretched room.
Since large drops of rain had begun to pound against the windowpanes, Gwen was forced to explore the interior of the stone fortress her family had once called home.
She held her candle, illuminating the dark halls. Unfortunately, her father’s Scottish home wasn’t as well equipped as Ainsley with its gas lamps.
Trekking through the maze of hallways that encompassed the MacAlistair family Scottish residence, Gwen arrived at her least favorite wing of the estate.
Upon reaching the doorway to her brothers’ classroom, her candle flickered in the drafty air as her eyes narrowed in an attempt to adjust to the darkness.
She shivered. It had always been so cold in this particular part of the estate. Another memory seized her. It was not long after she and her brothers had moved here. Gwen recalled sitting on the cold, marble floor outside this very classroom, scribbling notes as her brothers learned Latin from their teacher.
Everything was clear to her, from the professor’s nasal voice to the words he scribbled on the chalkboard.
The room looked less imposing now, she realized. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that she was now an adult, or perhaps it was because the classroom hadn’t been maintained, appearing almost as dilapidated as her room in the guest wing.
Gwen proceeded up the aisle, trailing her fingers along the cold and dusty desks. Standing in front of the chalkboard, her candle flickered from the cool draft encircling the room.
She scanned the small desks where her brothers once sat. Neither Colin nor Tristan would be able to sit behind them now. Could she?
After resting her candle upon one of the desktops, Gwen slid behind another.
So this is what it would have felt like.
Her eyes roved the damp room cloaked in shadows.
It was time to confront some childhood ghosts.
Sebastian knocked on Gwen’s door, incensed that the damn butler placed her in the guest wing. When her maid answered the door, his temper worsened.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” Particles of dust flew through the air as Jane curtsied. “Please don’t tell Her Grace that I’m cleaning this room. She made me promise I wouldn’t touch it.”
Sebastian’s heated gaze raked the shabby room, his voice thunderous. “That butler stuck her in here?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Her Grace said it was punishment of some sort and refused to give him the satisfaction of voicing her discontentment.” Jane sneezed from the dust. “The poor thing left to take a walk. This is all so hard on her.”
Sebastian handed the young woman a handkerchief from his vest pocket right before she sneezed again. As he turned on his heel in search of the butler whom he wanted to toss out on his rear, he ordered Jane over his shoulder, “Stop what you’re doing. She is not spending one more moment in this room and neither are you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jane sneezed a third time.
After his confrontation with the butler from Hades, it took Sebastian quite a while to find his wife. Although the manor wasn’t large, it contained confusing mazes of hallways.
When he found Gwen at last, his chest constricted. She sat alone in a dimly-lit classroom staring at a blank chalkboard. He was certain it was the same classroom Tristan had once told him about.
Sebastian glanced down at the marble floor, remembering the story his brother-in-law had told him, imagining his wife as a young girl, sitting on a cold floor trying to eavesdrop on a Latin lesson.
A cold blast of air moved past him, stirring him from his sad thoughts. He glanced again at his wife.
She hadn’t moved since his arrival.
Sebastian walked into the classroom, his candle adding more light. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” His tone was gentle, understanding.
He placed his candle next to hers then shrugged off his jacket. After he draped it over Gwen’s shoulders, he knelt beside her. “You must be cold. How long have you been up here?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Let’s get you downstairs by a fire.”
“Gawain is so charitable, adding a fire to my already ostentatious accommodations.” Sarcasm dripped from her every word.
Her effort at humor failed to lighten his mood. Sebastian stiffened. “That man, and I use the term loosely, is loathsome. I told him so right before I fired his arse.”
“You what?” Her eyes danced with mischief in the candlelight.
“I fired him. I couldn’t find Tristan and I didn’t think he’d blame me once he saw where that despicable man
expected you to stay.”
Sebastian rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to infuse heat.
“And to think,” her heart-shaped lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “I was plotting a rather unpleasant diatribe of my own for when I fired him.”
“I will give you an accurate account of what I said to him later. If I missed anything, you may send it by messenger to his home, but first let’s get you to a warm fire and a hot bath.”
Gwen stood then tugged at the lapels of his jacket. “You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Of course I’m grateful, but it wasn’t your battle.”
“When will you get this through your stubborn brain?” He tapped her temples. “Any battle of yours is mine as well.”
She brushed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you. It means a great deal to me.”
They walked downstairs in silence. It wasn’t until they had reached the family wing that Sebastian began to explain. “That reprehensible little man sent me over here. He didn’t want to get on my bad side, I suppose.”
“Well, look at that,” she teased him, leaning against the wall. “You’re making friends.”
Sebastian grimaced as he opened the door. “As it turns out, the servants prepared just two rooms. Tristan has the one across the hall, your father’s, and this one is ours.”
“Ours? What will the servants think?” She arched her brow before sauntering into the room. Gwen heard the click of the door shutting behind her.
“I don’t care,” Sebastian announced, crossing the cream-colored carpet to the fireplace then bending down to stoke the logs. “I’ll give you all the privacy you need. Do you want to ring Jane so she can prepare your bath?”
Gwen surveyed the rose-colored walls and impressionist paintings that adorned them. Her husband must have noted her silence for he stood then stepped in front of her. Tipping her chin up, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve never seen the inside of this room.”
Confusion clouded her husband’s expression. “Why not?”
“This was my mother’s room. None of us were ever allowed to enter.”
Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) Page 29