“All right,” she finally said, her chin slightly raised before her gaze flickered over her arm where the hint of purple bruises began to show. “I suppose it would be foolish to refuse help no matter who offered it.”
Opening the lid, Derek grinned, meeting her eyes, noting the touch of mischief in them. “No matter who offered? Is this meant as an insult?”
“Not at all,” she said smiling.
“Then what?” he asked, pulling up a chair to sit in front of her.
Madeline shrugged. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
With a smile on his face, Derek shook his head at her, noting the way her shoulders seemed to relax and feeling his own do the same in answer. However, when his fingers touched her skin, she almost flinched.
Looking up, Derek met her eyes, dark with meaning. “Did that hurt?” he asked, grasping for something to say.
“No.” Shaking her head, she kept her gaze firmly on her arm. “It was only cold. That’s all.”
Setting down the small cream pot, Derek gently held Madeline’s bruised arm in his left hand as he rubbed the salve into her skin with the other, careful not to apply too much pressure. He could feel the warmth of her skin against his own.
Glancing up at her, he noted that her eyes were almost closed as she inhaled slow breaths, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “Does this hurt?” Derek asked, wondering about the expression on her face. If he had to guess, he would put his money not on pain, but…temptation. “Do you want me to stop?”
His own breath caught in his throat.
“No.” Madeline’s eyes flew open, met his and then quickly returned to her bruised arm. “I mean, no, it does not hurt.” She swallowed, then forced her gaze back up, meeting his. “Will it be better in the morning?”
An apologetic smile on his face, Derek shook his head. “I’m afraid it will be tender for a while. The salve merely soothes the ache, but it cannot take the bruises away.” Standing up, he released her arm, his gaze travelling to the bed. “You should rest. It’s been a long night.”
Rising to her feet, his wife nodded. “You’re right. I do feel as though I cannot keep my eyes open any longer.” As she turned to lift the covers, a shiver shook her frame, and Derek almost reached out to warm her.
Instead, he took a step back, watching her pull the blanket tightly around herself as her teeth began to chatter with exhaustion.
Hesitating for only a moment, Derek turned to the corner where a basket filled with firewood had been placed for the coming winter nights. Although they would need to ration it, he felt that tonight his wife deserved to sleep in a warm room, the dancing flames lulling her to sleep.
“What are you doing?” her sleepy voice asked from the covers as Derek set to work, stacking the wood and kindling.
“I thought that was obvious,” he chuckled, once again trying to return to the lighter mood that had existed between them before.
A soft smile came to her lips as her eyelids closed for a moment. “But I thought you said?”
“I know,” Derek interrupted, lighting the fire. Standing back, he watched the flames come to life before stepping back up to the bed. “Your muscles need warmth,” he whispered as he looked down at his wife.
Snuggled into the blanket, she yawned, her eyes closed once more, a deeply satisfied smile still playing on her features. “It feels wonderful,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. A moment later, she was lost to the world, her breathing even as she sighed into the pillow.
For a long while, Derek stood next to her bed, wondering about the woman he had married. He had been wrong about so many things, and yet, so had she. Maybe it had been nothing but their own prejudices that had kept them from realising that…
That what?
That they were?could be? ?a good match, after all?
Derek did not know, and yet, he hoped.
From the first moment, he had laid eyes on her, something about her had bewitched him. Had his heart seen something lurking out from underneath her mask that his eyes had failed to recognise?
Now, he knew that he had misjudged her.
He could only hope that she thought the same about him.
Would they have a chance?
Derek hoped so with all his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three ? An Invitation Offered and Accepted
By the time, Madeline’s mind decided to return to the land of the living, morning had already come and gone.
Pushing herself up, her gaze drifted from the now burnt-out fire in the hearth to the small rays of sunshine drifting in through the gaps in the curtains. From downstairs, faint sounds could be heard, and Madeline knew that everyone was already up, tending to their work.
Everyone but her.
Determined to do her share, Madeline jumped out of bed and rushed to the wardrobe in the corner. As she reached out to pull open the door, pain shot through her arm, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
Slowly, she pulled up her sleeve and gasped at the bluish-purple bruises running up and down her right arm.
Taking a deep breath, Madeline decided that there was nothing she could do about that. Her husband had told her that it would last for a week or so and that there was nothing she could do to hasten the healing. However, her muscles were merely sore. Apart from that, there was nothing much wrong with her.
Swallowing, Madeline used her left arm to reach inside her wardrobe and pull out another one of her fancy gowns. Then she turned to the bed and stopped.
“I’m not that woman anymore,” Madeline whispered as a small smile came to her lips. She would have expected sadness at the loss of her old self. However, at the thought of embracing her new role here at Huntington House, Madeline felt nothing short of excitement.
Returning the gown to the wardrobe, Madeline finally decided on her simplest riding habit. It would allow her to move and keep her warm in the late October air. Later then, she would ask Kara for help. Maybe her new sister-in-law could help her fashion more adequate clothing.
With a new sense of purpose, Madeline hastened downstairs into the kitchen, wondering where her husband was. Vividly, she recalled the way his hands had touched her bruised arm, gently rubbing the salve into the skin. At the mere thought of him so close, her breath caught in her throat, and excitement coursed through her veins.
Could they ever truly be man and wife? She wondered as she recalled the dark intensity in his eyes as he had looked at her last night. Where were they to begin?
Although they were married?had been married for a few months now?they had fallen into a routine far from that of a married couple. They argued and fought. Still, they spoke openly to each other, and to Madeline’s utter surprise, she had revealed to her husband sides of herself that she had never shared with anyone. But what did that make him? A trusted friend?
Possibly.
But not a husband.
Whenever they were around one another without a distraction?some purpose that set the course?they often seemed skittish, nervous about how to act, and Madeline remembered only too well the lightheadedness that seized her whenever he stood too close. Did he feel the same way about her?
“Ye look happy, dear,” Bessy observed as Madeline strode into the kitchen. “Are ye planning on riding out?” With a quirked eyebrow, the old woman looked her up and down all the while continuing to knead the dough placed on the workbench in front of her.
Madeline chuckled. Was it not strange how odd that thought appeared now when it had felt so normal before? In her old life? “No,” she said, brushing her hands over the skirt before pulling on an apron. “I merely chose this because it seems to be the most durable and practical dress I own.”
Bessy chuckled.
“Maddie!”