Accidental Bride (Beaufort Brides #3)

by Noelle Adams

  But Peter couldn’t help but think about his savings account. It wasn’t particularly flush, but he had enough to make a down payment on a place.

  A house like that would be perfect for a bed and breakfast.

  Kelly was visibly excited as they turned down the driveway, and she made a little squeal as they saw that the big, lovely house was indeed the one for sale. Up close, it was clear that the house had seen better days. It was obviously unoccupied, and the grounds hadn’t been kept very well. Piles of dead leaves covered the driveway, and one of the outbuildings had literally fallen down.

  But the Victorian architecture was gorgeous and intricate, and Peter loved the house just as much as he had from a distance.

  Kelly was starting to get out of the car almost before Peter put it into park. “Oh, my God, look at that porch!” She was running around the other side of the house as Peter was climbing out of the car. She called out, “There’s a back porch too! And a balcony on both the second and third floors!”

  Peter followed her, feeling just as excited as Kelly did. The house felt like an old friend. And it would be absolutely perfect for a bed and breakfast. One of those outbuildings could be converted to a separate cottage.

  “It’s called Eden Manor,” she said, beaming at him when she saw him approach. “Don’t you love it?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”

  She peered at his face and evidently recognized that he was serious. “It would be perfect for a B&B.”

  “Yeah. I was just thinking that.”

  “I wonder how much it costs.”

  “It doesn’t matter. There’s no way I can afford it.”

  “But it’s not in great shape. They’d have to take that into account in the price.”

  “Yeah, but even if I could afford the down payment, I’d never have enough money to fix the place up.” He sighed, trying to be as reasonable as he sounded but unable to keep his heart from racing. “Look at the siding. It’s not just that it needs to be painted. A lot of this wood has rotted out. And that’s just the outside. It would probably take a fortune to fix this place up.”

  Kelly sighed, but then she climbed the front steps and pressed her face against the window, using her hands to block out the reflection. “It doesn’t look too bad inside.”

  He came up to look too and had to admit that the interior wasn’t in as bad shape as he’d expected. “I can’t afford it, Kelly. I’m going to have to start with something small and move up from there.”

  Her shoulders slumped, but she nodded, making it clear that she understood. “It would have been perfect for you.”

  It would have been perfect for them, but it was obvious that the possibility of making something out of this beautiful old house with him never even crossed her mind.

  She came over to take his arm as they started back to the car. “It’s not that far from Savannah,” she murmured, sounding like she was talking to herself. “It would be easy to visit you here.”

  He took comfort in the fact that she obviously didn’t like the idea of him living far away from her. “Eh. I’ll probably stick around Savannah.”

  She smiled up at him, although there was something almost bittersweet in her expression. “There won’t be anything so perfect there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because there won’t be anything this perfect anywhere else.” She sighed and glanced back at the house. “What you need is an investor.”

  “If you’re thinking about Mitchell or James, then just forget about it. I’m not going to take money from your sisters’ husbands—not even to buy this property.”

  She had a thoughtful expression on her face as they got back into the car. “I know that. I wasn’t thinking about them.”

  He frowned. “Who were you thinking about?”

  She shook her head and gave him a wide smile. “It doesn’t matter. We should get going, shouldn’t we?”

  Of course, they needed to get going, but Peter couldn’t help but wonder if she’d had a particular investor in mind.

  ***

  A few hours later, Kelly came out of the bathroom, ready for bed.

  The bed and breakfast was pleasant, clean, and comfortable, and she was relieved that Peter hadn’t spent too much money on the room. They’d obviously have to share a bed, but they’d been doing so at home now for the last few nights, and it hadn’t been too strange.

  It was actually kind of nice, going to sleep with Peter beside her, waking up in the middle of the night and hearing him breathe. She’d never slept with someone like that before, and she hadn’t expected to find it so comforting.

  If occasionally she found herself all hot and bothered about being so close to Peter when he wasn’t wearing many clothes, then she was doing a decent job of keeping that a secret.

  It was nice to have a husband. And even nicer that it was Peter.

  She wore a thin camisole—a little prettier than the tanks she normally slept in—and a pair of pale blue cotton pajama pants. She’d unbraided her hair and brushed it out loose, and in the bathroom she’d had the silliest desire to wear some sort of slinky nightgown, to make herself pretty, sexy. For Peter.

  Obviously, that was out of the question, but she was still intensely aware of Peter watching her as she walked to the bed.

  He’d been doing something on his phone while she was in the bathroom, but he put it down now to get ready for bed himself.

  There was only a small television in the room, but it was after ten in the evening, so she didn’t feel the need to kill time with TV. After they’d arrived, they’d unpacked and walked around the grounds, and then they’d gone back to the house to have a glass of wine with the owners and a couple of the other guests. It had been a nice evening, and Kelly was happy as she climbed under the covers and turned out the lamp on her nightstand.

  She heard Peter in the bathroom. He was obviously taking a shower. He always took a shower before bed. She couldn’t help but like how clean and fresh he smelled when he got into bed afterwards.

  She got so excited, waiting for him to come out, that she had to tell herself to get a grip.

  In about ten minutes, he came out of the bathroom with damp hair, wearing nothing but a pair of gray pajama pants.

  Instead of the normal shiver of appreciation at the sight of him, she felt the oddest clench—of her heart, her whole body. The feelings shouldn’t go together—since they were contradictory. But she felt both of them at the same time. Longing. And possession.

  Peter was her husband. Only hers.

  And she wanted him so much.

  He smiled when he saw her looking at him. “You need anything?”

  “Nah. I’m kind of tired.”

  “Me too.” After putting his phone on the nightstand, he turned off the light and got into bed beside her.

  He smelled just as he always did—like the soap he used. She found herself moving toward him unconsciously.

  “What are you thinking about, all intense like that?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  It would be easier if he weren’t so observant, if he didn’t know her quite so well. “I’m not intense.”

  He chuckled and reached an arm out, drawing her closer so she was right beside him. He didn’t usually do that. He’d never done that. They always stayed safely on their own sides of the bed.

  But she wanted to be close to him—so much that she couldn’t roll away, no matter how much wiser it would be. She let out a breath and lifted one arm to rest it on his chest.

  His manner was still casual. He wasn’t making a move on him. He was just being companionable or something.

  She liked it. A lot.

  He kept his arm around her as he said, “I don’t know why you try to lie to me.”

  She had to think back to remember what she’d said. “I wasn’t all intense,” she objected, when it came back to her.

  “Yes, you were.” He stroked her hair gently. Since it was loose, it was coverin
g the length of her back. His touch felt incredibly good. She had the silliest desire to purr. “What were you thinking about?”

  She sighed. She wasn’t going to tell him the whole truth, but she could tell him at least part of it. “I was just thinking about how strange it is to be married.”

  “I don’t think it’s been so bad.” His body had tightened slightly. She could easily tell, since she was pressed up against it.

  “I didn’t say it had been bad. Just strange. Different.”

  There was a pause before he answered. “Yeah. It has been different. For sure.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to go back to being friends—afterwards, I mean?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes…things get in the way.”

  “I don’t see why anything needs to get in the way of us. I’m not going to let you slip out of my life, even if you feel embarrassed.”

  She liked the sound of it. She liked the idea of his holding on tight, not letting her get away. Not that she wanted to go anywhere. “I’m not embarrassed.”

  Peter chuckled, still stroking her hair. “Sometimes you are. You were when I came into the room just now.”

  It was better that he thought she was embarrassed than that he know she was thinking about sex. “Well, it’s just different, seeing you in your pajamas.”

  He didn’t answer. For a moment, she felt a strange tension from him. She didn’t understand it, but it went away almost as soon as she recognized it.

  She felt his body relax as he adjusted his arm, making her more comfortable against him. She should probably roll away, but she didn’t want to.

  “Things feel different in a lot of ways,” she said, following the course of her thoughts.

  “What does?” He sounded slightly tense again.

  “Just things. I do, I mean. It’s so strange to come here where no one knows us, and they all think it’s perfectly normal that we would be married. They don’t look at us like we’re crazy or too young or not thinking clearly or not right for each other. It feels strange to me to be just a normal woman, who might be married to you.”

  He lifted her head so he could see her face, whatever was visible in the dark room. “Why wouldn’t you be a normal woman?”

  “I didn’t mean I wasn’t a normal woman. I’ve just always been the youngest, the one everyone knew would never get herself a man.”

  He frowned. “But you did that on purpose, right. You always made sure your grandma wouldn’t try to match you up with anyone.”

  “I know. But I’ve done it so long that it’s kind of become part of me. And it just feels strange that people would look at me and think something else.” She sighed and lowered her head again, resting it against the side of his chest, since she was still tucked up in his arm. “I’m probably not explaining it well.”

  “No, I think I get it. I’d always been a Blake growing up. I mean, that was the only way people saw me. So it was so strange when I took off and went to Europe and no one had any idea who I was. I could be anyone. It was strange—and incredibly freeing.”

  She nodded, swallowing over a swell of feeling at how perfectly Peter had understood her. “Yeah. It’s just like that. Why shouldn’t I be just any woman, on a honeymoon with her husband?”

  “You can be. You can be that woman. You can be anyone you want.” Peter’s voice now had a rough texture that she liked.

  She liked it a lot.

  She wanted to keep talking, but she was suddenly afraid by how intimate it all felt. She really needed to be careful, or she’d start getting ideas that would just leave her crushed.

  They were already a week into their six week marriage. And, no matter how much she might want to be this new woman, she was still Kelly Beaufort. Her life was in an old house in Savannah. Her family needed her, and she was never going to let them down.

  She could play at being someone else for a few weeks, but she had to remember that it had a definite end date.

  And she didn’t want to have a broken heart at the end of it.

  ***

  Peter stayed awake long after Kelly fell asleep.

  She’d felt so soft and clingy as they were talking that he’d started to have some hopes that the evening could turn in a particular direction. But it obviously never crossed her mind. She liked to be close to him. That much was clear. But she didn’t want it to go any further than a tame cuddle.

  He told himself it was natural, after being just friends for so long. She wasn’t going to want to jump into bed with him without warning—just because.

  But it was getting harder and harder to spend the night in bed with her and not be able to touch her the way he wanted.

  His body definitely didn’t appreciate it, no matter how he tried to prepare himself in the shower before he got into bed.

  He liked to hold her in his arms, though, even if it eventually became torturous, so he didn’t let her go, even after she fell asleep.

  She was starting to recognize that things were different. She’d admitted it herself. Maybe he wasn’t as far away from what he wanted as he feared.

  He tried to think through a strategy, but his mind instead went on flights of fancy. He imagined living with Kelly in that big Victorian house, turning it into a bed and breakfast, waking up to her smile every morning, sleeping with her every night, being allowed to take her the way he wanted.

  His brain got lost on that path for too long, until his body started to misinterpret the feel of Kelly against him. It felt like he was surrounded by her, her softness, her scent, her hair.

  Even when he grew aroused, he couldn’t yet bring himself to let her go. It was a sweet kind of torture, his body throbbing for her, knowing he couldn’t have her.

  Eventually, she started to shift in her sleep. He wondered if she was dreaming. Then she started to move her hand on his chest in clumsy little grips. She made a few wordless sounds and kind of rubbed herself against him.

  He groaned out loud. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to feel her like that so much.

  After a minute, he realized that he couldn’t do this—get off on the feeling of her moving against him, when she was asleep and completely unconscious of it.

  He groaned again as he very gently dislodged her arm and rolled away from her.

  He felt cold and empty and pained as he heaved himself out of bed and walked quietly to the bathroom.

  It was his own fault, though. He’d wanted to enjoy holding her in his arms, and now he was paying the price.

  At least, she hadn’t been awake to witness the effects.

  Seven

  The following evening, Kelly was sitting up in bed again, waiting for Peter to come out of the bathroom.

  She was chatting with her sisters in a group text message. They wanted to make sure she was having a good time and everything was going well with Peter.

  It was going well. Really well. Kelly couldn’t remember when she’d had a better day.

  They’d had a relaxing morning and a delicious breakfast. Then they’d gone hiking up to see a couple of the waterfalls in the area. On their way back, they’d stopped to look at a few more old houses for sale, and then they’d spent the rest of the afternoon taking it easy on the grounds of the bed and breakfast.

  There was a bench swing next to the lake, which they’d sat in for more than an hour.

  It felt kind of like a real honeymoon. Kelly felt happy, relaxed, really close to Peter.

  And she wanted to be closer still.

  Reminding herself for the hundredth time that they were just friends wasn’t helping at all anymore. She wondered what Peter would do if she just jumped him as soon as he walked out of the bathroom.

  She didn’t, of course. He walked out in his pajama pants, with bare chest and bare feet, and her heart did a silly little skip while the rest of her body clenched in excitement.

  Even more when he smiled at her.

  “Are you tired?” he asked, walking
over to the table where he’d left his phone.

  “Not really. It’s been a really great day.”

  His smiled warmed. “Good. I think so too.”

  Their gazes held for a minute, and then she started to feel awkward and nervous, so she reached over to the television remote. “I guess we can watch some TV, if you don’t want to go to sleep right away.”

  He cleared his throat as he climbed into the bed beside her. “Sure.”

  She turned the television on and started flipping channels, but nothing she saw held much interest to her.

  When she landed on a commercial for personal lubricant that was supposed to transform regular sex into high drama, complete with rousing orchestra and fireworks, she glanced over at Peter, trying not to imagine herself trying out that lubricant with him.

  He gave her his little eyebrow arch. “If you’re looking for a testimonial, you’re out of luck. I’ve never tried that stuff.”

  She burst into helpless giggles. “I wasn’t asking!”

  “My mistake.”

  “I wonder how many people go out and buy it, hoping their ordinary sex life magically transforms into mind-blowing pleasure.”

  “You’ve never been tempted?” The timbre of his voice shifted slightly.

  She knew very well she should redirect the course of this conversation. She and Peter didn’t talk about sex, and they definitely shouldn’t start now. Not when he was in bed with her, half-naked and sexy with slightly rumpled hair and that clever amusement in his eyes. But she heard herself saying anyway, “Well, I don’t have a sex life—ordinary or not—that needs transforming.”

  She stared at the television as she realized what she’d just said, torn between a rising excitement and embarrassment.

  From her peripheral vision, she saw Peter turned his head so his eyes rested on her face. “No sex life at all?”

  She was sitting up in bed, just like he was, but she pulled the covers up over her a little more. “Well, not currently. But it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything, though.”

  “You’re not?”

  Despite her self-consciousness, she looked over to meet his eyes. “You thought I was?”