He turned and looked at me with the oddest expression. It was as if he had forgotten who I was or that I was here.

“Oh,” he said after a moment. “I’ll stop in,” he added, with that coy, sexy smile I loved.

“Good,” I said, and left.

As I expected, Dora was waiting for me. She had probably been listening for my footsteps on the stairway.

“Where do you keep yourself up here?” I asked when she stepped out of the shadows.

“Mr. Foxworth told me to take his mother’s bedroom while I tended to your needs, ma’am. I hope that’s all right.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? I want nothing to do with that bedroom or any more of the clothes left in it,” I emphasized.

She nodded and followed me to the Swan Room. After I prepared for bed, wearing one of my dozen new nightgowns, I lay back under the swan and waited anxiously for Garland. Perhaps he would spend the entire night with me. If we couldn’t have a honeymoon right away, at least I could pretend to be having one here.

The bed was as soft as I imagined it would be, the pillows like balls of cotton, pieces of a cloud. I recognized the scent, too. His mother’s scent, dabbed on the bed earlier, perhaps. How could it last that long otherwise?

So much time went by, I nearly fell asleep. Every time my eyes closed, I snapped them open, fearing he would peek in, see me asleep, and go to bed in his room, claiming he didn’t have the heart to wake me. When he finally did open the door and peered in, I sat up quickly, folding my arms under my breasts. Why had he waited so long? Where was that romantic desire? Were we doomed to become another boring married couple after all? I could see his reaction to my look. As my father often told my mother, “The expression on your face could stop a clock.”

“I can see you need more proof, more assurance, that I’m not simply the man who brought you here and ravished you.”

“I am hoping you can’t keep yourself away from me,” I said, lowering my nightgown off my shoulders.

I saw his eyes go from me to the swan.

“It won’t bite you, but I will,” I said.

His smile looked timid, which for him was quite unusual. He stepped forward and closed the door softly behind him. He didn’t move toward me, however.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s just . . . so unexpected for me to see someone in that bed.”

“Good. It gives me confidence that you brought no one else to it and makes it more my bed.”

He nodded but didn’t move.

“At this rate, I think I’d rather be ravished,” I said, finally bringing a smile to his face.