But she was awake, there was no point in pretending. She opened her eyes and found she was staring at stone walls, an ancient oak chest. This was not her room. She was not in Hampshire or even in the Governor’s house. The recollection that she was in the Star Castle came a fraction of a second before the realisation that the naked man under the covers with her was real and he had no right to be there.
With a gasp she propelled herself out of bed and landed on the hard floor with a painful jolt. The room swam for a moment until she got her eyes to focus. ‘I’ll scream. I’m warning you, you… ‘ Her voice trailed away as he sat up in bed. ‘Blake? It is you?’ She was going mad. ‘I dreamed, last night…’ Then she saw that he was naked to the waist except for a dressing on his shoulder. ‘You are hurt.’ She took a grip on the bed post and hauled herself to her feet. He is hurt but he is alive. Thank God.
‘You dreamt you saw a ghost on the battlements?’ he asked without preamble. He had gone very still; she sensed he did not want to alarm her
So it had not been a dream? It was coming back now in all its horror. ‘Your ghost. I saw its face. Your face. So white. I thought you were dead and I was seeing your spirit. And then – did I faint?’
He nodded. ‘You fainted and I caught you. I put you to bed. It is wonderful to see you, but what the devil are you doing here, Emily?’ Blake threw back the covers and swung his feet off the bed. He was stark naked.
She gave a little gasp and shut her eyes. She had never seen a naked man before, never even seen Blake’s bare chest, although, greatly daring, she had slipped her hand between his shirt and waistband as they had grappled, laughing, in the chaise on the way to Hampshire.
‘Blake!’
‘I am sorry.’ He sounded more amused than repentant. ‘I have covered myself up. Come back to bed.’
Emily opened her eyes warily but stayed where she was. ‘This cannot be real. I must be dreaming. You vanish for two months on our wedding day, then you reappear in my bed with no warning, here of all places! What is wrong with your shoulder?’
‘French bullet. No,’ he held up a hand as she gasped. ‘In and out, a flesh wound. It is virtually healed, although I must admit it gave a pang when I caught a fainting ghost and found her solid flesh and blood. For a second I thought you were a phantom too, which was… stimulating.
‘The naval vessel I was returning on stopped off here to leave dispatches: most of them coming from the Bay of Biscay will stop over here in the Pool. It is just a coincidence that your great friend happened to encounter me while I was talking to her brother, although why I should find you in this place, I cannot imagine. Miss Morton obviously thought it a fine joke to send me up here for the night without warning me about your presence.’
‘Janey is a romantic,’ Emily said. Her pulse had stopped jumping a
nd she had her breathing under control now. She was not going to make a fool of herself by falling into Blake’s arms and covering him with kisses, which she very much wanted to do. It would betray too much of how she felt for him when he was making no such declarations.
He looked tanned and lean. Harder somehow, although the man she had married had been fit and confident. This, she supposed, was the extra edge that came with recent fighting.
She felt shy and awkward. Would he still want her? Must they start all over again to get to know each other? ‘I thought I deserved a holiday so I accepted Janey’s invitation to visit her. She’s been asking me for ages, she says she gets lonely here,’ she added, talking almost at random.
‘You left Greystoke?’ Blake asked. Emily wished he would put some clothes on. The sight of his naked chest, strapped with muscles, dusted with dark hair, made her want to lay her cheek on it, to wrap her arms around him and hold tight in thankfulness that he was back safe, but she did not know if she should make the first move. Or how to make it.
‘Do you mind? I was… lonely. And, I confess, rather weary. I have spent almost eight weeks finding staff, cleaning and ordering repairs, starting to turn that wreck of a house into something fit for a gentleman’s residence and I needed a rest. I am not used to that kind of thing,’ she added, meaning it as a joke. ‘I have been spoiled, perhaps.’
Blake frowned. ‘I had not intended you to do all that. No wonder you felt faint, you must be worn out.’
‘I haven’t been scrubbing on hands and knees myself,’ she said. ’But making so many decisions was worrying. The estate needs its master. But in your absence Mr Welling appears to be a most adequate steward and I left him restocking the flocks and making enquiries about beef cattle. The Home Farm repairs have begun. We now have an experienced housekeeper. I have spent,’ she added, risking teasing, ‘A great deal of your money.’
‘Our money,’ Blake corrected. He had been sensitive to the thought that he was a fortune hunter, but Emily had not minded that he had been seeking a wife with a large dowry, not when she found him so attractive, admired him so much.
She had taken the bull by the horns when he proposed and told him that he need not tread cautiously around the reason for the match. ‘I have money, you have a title and an estate,’ she had stated. ‘My mother was a lady who eloped with a mill owner who became vastly wealthy: that is my good fortune. Your ancestors came over with the Conqueror and acquired lands and a title. That is your wealth. It seems sensible to me that we combine them. You will find that I am very sensible,’ she added, by way of a warning.
‘Don’t you want romance?’ he had asked, frowning a little.
‘That would be nice,’ she replied demurely and Blake had laughed and kissed her until her toes curled in her satin slippers and her chaperone had become quite flustered. He obviously thought romance meant kisses and flirting, not love. But the kisses had been delicious.
He could keep his face very much under control, although she had learned to read him a little. Now his brows, darker than his honey-blond hair, drew together just a little and his green eyes darkened as they did when his emotions were stirred. She liked his hair like that - long, wild. Romantic.
Emily got to her feet and walked to the window. It would be good if her breathing would settle down and her pulse would stop jittering and if she could either find the courage to dive into bed with Blake – or to ask him, in a dignified manner, what his plans were. Or whether he had missed her.
There was a worn bell pull dangling by the empty hearth but, given that the cook was hard of hearing, there did not seem to be much point in ringing it. Emily scooped up her clothing and stepped behind the leather screen in one corner of the room. ‘I will wash and dress and then go and order hot water for you and see whether we take breakfast here or at the Governor’s house.’ It would mean washing in cold water herself, but that might serve to sharpen her brain.
‘Very wifely.’ The amusement was just under the surface, she could hear it, knew how his eyes would be dancing with laughter as he teased her.
Emily rubbed her toothbrush into the powder with unnecessary force. ‘That is my aim, my lord.’
There was a snort of laughter. ‘My lord. Now that, I am finding, is taking getting used to. I have been Sir or Major for so long.’
She rinsed her mouth, washed hastily and reached for her petticoats. ‘I am certain you will become accustomed, as you will to being married. Eventually we both will,’ she added rather desperately. By her wedding day she’d had weeks to become prepared for marriage. After weeks of separation she never dreamt she would simply wake up and find herself in bed with her new husband.