Taken with the sight of her?so beautiful, so liberated, so tempting?Derek found himself striding toward her, his arms aching to hold her, his lips tingling with the deep desire to taste hers.
Barely two steps away from her, he froze as lightning split the sky in half, followed by a deafening roll of thunder.
Madeline’s eyes snapped open, and she stopped in her tracks. “I guess we should hurry after all,” she called over the downpour, reaching for his arm.
Holding her tight against him, Derek pulled her onward as they ran toward the house. Mud clung to their feet, weighing them down and hindering their progress as the darkening sky continued to pour buckets of water on their heads.
When they finally reached the house, they burst through the kitchen door in a mess of water and mud, quickly shutting the door against the icy wind.
“Now, don’t ye look like drowned cats?” his mother observed from her usual spot by the workbench. Then she turned her narrowed gaze to the muddy floor. “If ye don’t want to end up in tonight’s supper, ye better not take another step.”
Looking down, then at each other, Derek and Madeline broke out laughing before taking off their boots and leaving them by the door.
“My, my, ye seem to be in an awfully good mood for such bleary weather,” his mother chuckled, an amused twinkle in her eyes that Derek had not seen in a long time. She seemed happy. If only he knew what had put that look in her eyes. After all, they had just tracked mud onto her sacred kitchen floor. A grave transgression if his childhood was any indication!
“Get yourself upstairs and out of those wet clothes,” his mother instructed as Madeline attempted to wring out her skirts into a bucket, which was only mildly successful. “Sean put more firewood into your rooms for tonight. It’s getting to be too cold with winter well on its way.”
Once more offering his wife his arm, Derek escorted her upstairs, trying to ignore his mother’s meaningful chuckle, as his heart was already thudding in his chest. Despite the cold, wet clothes hanging on his body, Derek had never felt so warm, and with every step he took, the heat seemed to intensify.
If only he had kissed her.
Chapter Twenty-Four ? To Light a Fire
When the door closed behind her husband, shutting out his warmth, Madeline’s body began to shiver, her teeth chattering loudly. Hurrying to her wardrobe, she pulled out a dry gown when her gaze fell on the firewood in the corner.
After a moment of hesitation, she laid her gown on the bed and quickly stacked some logs in the hearth. Then she grasped the small tinderbox on the mantle. However, upon opening it, Madeline was lost.
How did one use such a device? In her father’s house, it had been the servants’ duty to light the fire in the hearths. Never had Madeline even seen them do it. Had she simply never paid attention? Or was this one of the many duties servants were expected to perform like ghosts in the night? Invisible to their masters?
Whatever the reason, Madeline had never seen the small items she found in the tinderbox. Dimly, she recalled that two things had to be struck together to raise a spark. As the only two things that could be struck together were a hand-sized piece of metal as well as a quartz-like rock, Madeline set aside the tinderbox and knelt in front of the fireplace, determined not to allow this simple task to stand in her way.
Taking a deep breath, she struck the two pieces together.
Nothing happened.
Except for a dull pain in her right arm.
Feeling her spirits sink, she tried again and was rewarded with a tiny spark. However, upon coming to life, it immediately died, and the logs in the fireplace remained untouched and cold.
Again, and again, Madeline tried, and again and again, she failed.
Once more, anger and disappointment surged to the surface, even more consuming after the triumph she had felt only moments earlier. After all she had learnt and accomplished in the last day, would this simple task once more bring her to her knees?
As Madeline realised that she was indeed kneeling in front of the fireplace, her frustration peaked, and she hurled the two pieces into the fireplace. Anger tore a growl from her throat as tears streamed down her face, replacing the fresh rain that had felt so good, so liberating.
Still shivering, Madeline pushed herself to her feet, then spun on her heel and strode toward the door that separated her room from her husband’s. Without thinking about what she hoped to accomplish, she yanked it open and burst into her husband’s bedchamber.
Instantly, a glowing warmth enveloped her, and Madeline’s gaze swung around to the hearth where her husband stood in front of a blazing fire in nothing but his breeches, a shirt forgotten in his hand as he stared at her. “Is something wrong?” he finally asked when she remained quiet.
Blinking, Madeline swallowed as she felt a touch of hysteria well up in her veins. “Wrong?” she snapped, noting the touch of disappointment that came to her husband’s dark eyes but unable to tamper her own anger. “Why did you leave me alone? Why didn’t you come to help me?”
A frown drew down his brows as he came toward her. “What do you mean?”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Madeline gestured at the fire. “Do you truly not know?”
After glancing over his shoulder, her husband shook his head, his eyes closing briefly as though he could not believe his own mistake. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, coming toward her. “I should have?”
“Yes, you should have,” Madeline stated, brushing a wet curl from her forehead. “I’ve never made a fire in my life. I wouldn’t know how to begin.” With each word she spoke, her throat began to close as tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re my husband. You take care of everyone. But not me.” Swallowing, she shook her head. “Not me. Why?”
As he held her gaze, a touch of guilt came to his own, his dark eyes clouded by regret. “I should have. I know that,” he said, grasping for words. “I cannot say why I did not. Although I know that this is not a life you’re accustomed to, I never think of you as someone in need of help.” Shrugging his shoulders in apology, he sighed. “You always seem so strong and competent that I…I forgot.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, his gaze held hers before it drifted lower to her wet dress. “You need to change.” The ghost of a smile curled up his lips, and a teasing note came to his voice. “Your dress is dripping all over my floor.”
For a moment, Madeline was tempted to return his smile, to accept the teasing banter that always seemed to smooth over their anger whenever it arose out of the differences that still existed between them. For a moment, she was truly tempted, for it would have been the easier way.
But Madeline could not.
The smile would not come. Instead, an unfamiliar calm spread through her being as she realised that a moment of truth was on the horizon. And as much as Madeline feared it, she could not turn away.
When she did not respond, her husband stepped toward her, his face now serious as he gestured to her wet dress. “You need to change, Madeline, or you will catch cold. Let me escort you back to your room. I’ll light a fire and?”
“Do you have any idea,” Madeline interrupted, bitterness lacing her words, “what it feels like to be rejected by your own husband?”
He froze in mid-step, his mouth slightly open as he stared at her.
“If you didn’t want me,” Madeline forced out, willing away the tears that lingered in the corners of her eyes, “then why did you marry me? You told me it was not for my dowry, and I don’t know why but I believe you.” She shrugged, shaking her head. “Then why? You had to have had a reason. Tell me. Please.”