Page 59 of His Dark Heart
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He did not face her. His nightmare of her departure was still too fresh in his mind. The worst part had been the cruel trick his mind had played on him when she had kissed him and said she would stay, said she would love him. His heart had wanted to burst with joy. But even then, he was disappointed because the memory would never be anything more than a dream.
“I did not mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. It is early yet.”
“Ye did not disturb me. Indeed, I have been awake most of the night.”
“Then all the more reason for you to rest.” He started to move towards his dressing room.
“My lord William, let thy valet be.”
He froze; his naked body unmoving even to breathe. Finally, he looked at her. She was lying on the bed, blankets tossed aside and nude. Her blue eyes were, for the first time he could remember, warm with a sensation near affection. Overwhelmed, he landed on the edge of the bed heavily.
“Say it again,” he pleaded, staring at his hands and the gold ring that winked from his finger, the gold ring that matched hers and tied his heart to her. Most husbands chose not to wear a ring, but he had. At first, it had been assurance of his fidelity, but now it was a symbol of his oath to love her. He gathered her up into his arms and held her with reverence.
“William, my husband.”
He squeezed her gently, brushing his stubble along her neck and down her shoulder. He delighted in the shiver that ran through her body.
“Many thanks to you. I know you mean it not, but I thank you none the less.”
“Goose,” she muttered, irritated, her lips against his ear.
He gave her a look of amused surprise. “Where did you pick that up?”
“Perhaps from Jane,” she replied sheepishly. “And I would not say so if I did not mean it.”
“You do not love me.”
“I am beginning to understand ye. Ye are a kind, fair ruler. I told you before that a heart exists somewhere beneath the muck and I intend to root it out to determine what sort of man ye might be.”
“If I am better at all, my sweet, it is because of you.”
She kissed his cheek. “Then shall ye leave thy valet alone this morning and let me mind my husband?”
“I shall do anything my wife wishes.”
She slid off the bed and stood before him boldly in stark contrast with the shy creature she had been on their wedding night. Reaching around him, she untied the leather strap that secured the dark silk of his hair. Long locks fell over his shoulders when she pulled her fingers through its strands.
“Jane explained to me why a woman should take pride in her man's appearance. I must admit that serving a man in such a manner seemed distasteful at first—as if I was a slave instead of a partner—but after hearing what she said, I reconsidered the idea.” Elizabeth ran a finger over his chest, smiling a little when he bit his lip to maintain his concentration on her words. “It shows the world that ye have a wife who is devoted, but this special task is also the wife's way to leave her mark upon her husband. A man who is groomed is a man who is cared for, and I care for ye a great deal and see ye as a friend. And the thought of another woman in thy dressing room fails to sit well with me.”
“It is a good thing my valet is a man then, I suppose. You realize that wives do not groom their men every day.”
“Jane is an excellent teacher, my lord, but as I am sure ye have already noticed, I am of my own mind.”
“Indeed, I have noticed that particularly irritating trait.” He grinned at her as he grabbed her about the waist. Suddenly, the grin slipped away. “I am your friend?”
She took a moment to consider the idea. “I think ye are. Since we married there has been a difference in ye. I like this version of William.”
“I was unaware that you even knew my given name.”
“There are many things, sir, of which you are unaware.”
He smiled.
“What?”
“You said 'you.' My dialect is overtaking your own.”
