Caro surveyed her with disapproval. “Morwenna, do you remember his reaction to seeing you with Garson? We’re lucky blood wasn’t spilled.”
“But that was just...”
“Male possessiveness? It looked like more than that to me.”
“There’s no guarantee love will survive such a separation. Especially as he’s come back so changed. You remember what he used to be like. The man who made every party sparkle.”
Caro regarded her thoughtfully. “Does that mean you’re disappointed in the man he’s become?”
Morwenna surged to her feet in denial. “No, never. My love isn’t the easy type of love that ever changes, however changed the man I love.”
Caro looked pleased and leaned back against the deep brown leather. “Then why don’t you credit Robert with the same steadfastness? He’s changed, but so have you. It doesn’t mean you love each other less. Time and experience change love for everyone. If you’re lucky, they make it stronger.”
“That’s how it worked for you and Silas.” Morwenna went back to torturing her damp handkerchief. “But who says it will work that way for Robert and me?”
“Who says it won’t?” Impatience sparked in Caro’s blue eyes. “Is he the man you want?”
“More than ever.” She voiced thoughts she’d hardly admitted to herself. “He seems deeper and more true to himself now.”
Caro’s expression softened, and she blinked away another tear. “And so do you. You’ve both paid such a heavy price over the last years. Don’t let all that suffering go to waste. If any two people deserve happiness, it’s you and Robert.”
* * *
Caro’s words rang in Morwenna’s ears as Silas’s luxurious traveling coach bowled north toward Leicestershire. For several hours, her husband had watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze that hinted at carnal intentions. They hadn’t spoken since he’d told her about his meetings at the Admiralty. Long conversations still tested his stamina.
“We could have waited until the morning and gone then.” She gripped the strap for balance against the lurching vehicle. Robert had told the coachman not to spare the horses.
“Leaving today gets us to Kerenza all the sooner.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you want to see her.”
His marked black brows contracted. “Of course I want to see her.”
“I don’t even know if you like children. There’s so much we never had a chance to discover about each other.”
He still watched her like a fox watched a rabbit hole. She shifted uncomfortably. That steady gaze disturbed her, made her blood thick with awareness.
“It will make life interesting.”
She felt a mixture of relief and chagrin when he looked away toward the window. It was wet outside, but the rain gradually eased.
“So do you?” she asked, breaking the silence that fell.
He turned back to her. “What?”
“Like children.”
He shrugged. “Before I was captured, I was a young man pursuing a naval career. I was interested in my ship and my wife. Not much else. The next generation didn’t occupy my thoughts to any great extent. I saw a bit of my nieces and nephews when I had shore leave, and I liked them well enough, in the way a fellow with his way to make likes other people’s children. Since then I’ve spent my time struggling to preserve my sanity. I’m still a novice with children, but I’ll wager last year’s pay that when I get the chance, I’ll like my own.”
> “I hope so,” she said doubtfully, even as she noted how much more smoothly he spoke now than when he’d first arrived home.
With every mile they traveled out of London, he’d looked less on edge. And younger, with the deep lines between nose and mouth no longer so in evidence. Dear heaven, he was only twenty-nine. He should look like a man with his whole life ahead of him.
He reached across and touched her cheek. The contact, meant as comfort, sizzled through her like a blast of summer lightning. How she wished she had the courage to ask him to ease this endless wanting. They’d changed horses twenty minutes ago, so they had guaranteed privacy for miles ahead.
“When did my wife become a worrier?”
She didn’t smile at the gentle gibe. “You know when.”