Cameron laughed, then bent to kiss her bare shoulder. “If we do that so soon after last night, you’ll be a very young widow.”
She sniffed. “I thought I was getting a wild northerner husband. One who could ravish me for days.” She studied him. He was, for what had to be the first time since they’d returned to the palace, not wearing his uniform, dress or otherwise. Instead he wore a dark-blue jacket and dark-gray breeches with a white shirt. Each of the items was unornamented but beautifully cut. He wore no jewelry other than his wedding band. She realized she’d never seen him wear any. Most men wore a signet ring or a cravat pin or, amongst the younger set, an earring. Cameron did not. He looked delectable all the same. Smug satisfaction that it was her ring around his finger made her smile.
“Stop thinking what you’re thinking. Even wild northerners have limits. Besides . . .” He paused and tilted his head at her. “You’re the one with the more . . . delicate . . . parts. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I feel absolutely fine.” She stretched her arms over her head. Muscles in unexpected places twinged and a wince crossed her face. Maybe not absolutely fine.
Cameron grinned. “I think you just proved my point. Come, milady. I’ve run you a bath. Once you’re ready, we’ll go out.”
“Out where?” Normally newlyweds would have headed away from Kingswell altogether, to a family estate or a guesting house at one of the popular seaside towns. Cameron and Sophie, however, had been told they would be spending their marriage week in the palace.
“We can walk in the gardens. Or visit your parents, maybe?”
She shook her head at that. “No. Not my parents. Not today.” Not whilst what she and Cameron had done in this thoroughly rumpled bed was painted so fresh in her memory. She didn’t want to sit across the table from her parents and have them know. “I could always just tap the ley line. Give us both a boost. Then we can start all over again.” In truth, despite the small aches in her body, she felt energized now that she was fully awake.
Cameron shook his head. “No. No, best not. You’re still having lessons. Perhaps you should focus on those before you start playing with such things alone.”
“Spoilsport.” She was doing much better with her control. She hadn’t shattered an earth-light in the last week. And the temple devout had taught her a useful lesson the day before the wedding. “Look,” she said, and focused on one of the candles set along the mantelpiece. It flared to life with a whoosh, the flame shooting several inches high before it settled back down.
“Very impressive,” Cameron said. “But I’d prefer not to be set alight just now.”
“I wouldn’t set you on fire,” she said. Then she grinned. “Well, not unless you really upset me.”
His brows lifted. “I’ll try not to do that,” he said. “But being a human matchstick, although useful, isn’t going to get you dressed.” He pulled back the covers, looked down at her naked body, and grinned suddenly. “Though I have a sudden urge to let you stay here.”
“I like that urge.”
He stepped back. “No. Not going to work. We need to be good newlyweds and go out and let people giggle at us. Eloisa wanted us married so quickly to show that the court is continuing as usual. So we have to be seen.”
She tried not to frown when he spoke the queen’s name. He had driven away the doubts Eloisa had planted in her mind during the long night they’d shared, but that didn’t mean Sophie had forgiven her yet.
She needed to work on that. Or, if it was too soon to forgive, then on not letting her rancor show. She would be returning to the queen’s ladies-in-waiting once the week was over. That could prove difficult if she was angry at the queen and unable to hide it.
Maybe Cameron was right. Better to just get on with things. Start this new life of theirs. She held out a hand and let him help her out of bed. “How about a compromise? Come scrub my back in that gigantic bathtub, and then we’ll go out.”
“I like the way you think, wife,” he said. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. “Here. I meant to give you these last night, but the right moment didn’t quite eventuate.”
She took the box, feeling guilty. He’d obviously meant to give her this on their wedding night, before he’d reached their rooms to be confronted by her in a hideous temper. “I’m sorry,” she said, “about last night.”
He shook his head. “Nothing to apologize for. The matter is dealt with. Perhaps not in the fashion we might have liked, but”—he flashed her that grin—“I think the outcome was satisfactory in the end.” He nodded at the box. “Open it.”
She lifted the lid. Nestled on a pad of velvet inside was a pair of pearl earrings. Perfect spheres in an unusual bronze-green shade that she hadn’t seen before, dangling from simple gold settings that echoed her betrothal ring. A tiny sapphire flanked by two topazes decorated the small bead that linked each pearl to the gold. “They’re beautiful,” she breathed, lifting one to the light.
“You like them?” Cameron looked nervous suddenly. “The court jeweler suggested cream—I think he knew about the necklace that the queen gave you—but this color reminded me of you.”
Sophie doubted she’d be happy wearing cream pearls ever again, even though she would have to wear the queen’s necklace at court often enough to be polite. The bronze, however, was gorgeous. They must have cost Cameron a pretty penny, but it wasn’t their value that pleased her. It was the fact he’d chosen them for her. “They’re perfect,” she said, and slipped the first into her ear, then reached for the second. “There. How do they look?”
“Very good,” he said, reaching to brush her hair back from her ears. Then he stilled, studying her. “They make your hair look redder. Or maybe it is redder.”
She didn’t want to think about that. “We were discussing pearls, not hair.” She came to her knees and reached up to kiss him. “Thank you for my gift.”