“I wasn’t hungry.”
Whereas he’d made a hearty meal. It had been a long day, and as the bridegroom, he hadn’t had much chance to eat at the wedding breakfast. Nor had Jane, as far as he’d been able to tell.
As he stared unseeing at the array of dishes, he had a horrible premonition that his wife might greet the morrow as virginal as she was now.
A howl of denial jammed in his throat. He was astonished at how piercing his disappointment was. He hadn’t had a woman since he’d decided to marry Jane, and he’d looked forward to ending seven months of celibacy.
Cheer up, man. Too early to admit defeat.
First things first. She needed to eat something. The soup had congealed into slop. The stew was cold and unappetizing, too, with a shiny layer of grease surrounding the meat. Bread and cheese might fit the bill.
He put a makeshift meal together. “You need to keep your strength up.”
“I thought the man does most of the work.”
Despite his grim mood, he laughed. There was that salt again. “I wasn’t just thinking about the marital act.”
He poured two glasses of wine. The inn sold a fine claret. He’d enjoyed a glass downstairs before he’d come up to change into his dressing gown.
Garson returned to the bed. He passed Jane the plate and put the glass of wine on the bedside table.
She regarded the food without enthusiasm. “I’m really not hungry.”
“Have some wine at least.” He sat on the bed, watching her.
She set the food aside on top of the blankets and lifted the glass without drinking. “Will this be easier if I’m foxed?”
“It will be easier if you don’t shatter like glass.”
A rueful smile turned her lips downward. Jane’s mouth was pink and full, with a perfectly cut upper lip and a lushly curved lower lip. How the devil had he never noticed that before?
“Is it so obvious?”
As obvious as a poke in the eye, but he forbore from saying so. “You’re looking a tad wan.”
It was a massive understatement. She was whiter than the inn’s linen, and in a fine hostelry like the Red Lion, the linen was bleached to within an inch of its life. The only color in the room seemed to be that rich fall of red hair. He refused to believe that a woman with such a brazen wealth of hair had no sensuality in her.
Of course she did. But only careful handling would coax it out.
She made an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d take our arrangement in my stride, once I got used to the idea. In the last ten years, when awful things happened, I muddled through by girding up my loins and tackling the problems as best I can.”
Awful things? Hell, she really wasn’t happy about this marriage, was she? Did he have Susan to blame for this nervousness, or had Jane’s uncertainty when he proposed burgeoned into panic during his absence? She’d held herself together through the difficult day, but perhaps he should put that down to pride. “Do girls have loins?”
She shrugged and mustered an unconvincing smile. “You know what I mean.”
He did. Better than she probably wanted him to. “You’ve been so brave, Jane.”
Another of those bleak little smiles. “I’m not feeling brave right now.”
“Am I really so frightening?”
Fleeting color rose in her cheeks. It faded to leave her paler than before. “I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”
With a sigh, he collected his glass and shifted to a massive oak chair near the blazing fire. He didn’t miss how the line of her shoulders loosened when he moved away. “No, I am. I shouldn’t have abandoned you to fall victim to your fears.”
She stared down to where her hands pleated the edge
of the sheets. It seemed to be a characteristic habit when she was jittery. “I’m sure it’s just fear of the unknown. And I’ve been so busy since you visited, that I really didn’t think much past leaving home after the wedding.”