Basset’s eyes were fixed on her, the wildness still lingering in his eyes, his expression shockingly open. He came to her and held his hand out, palm down. When Adelaide took it, she could feel the skittering of his pulse, which, paired with the power in his hold, cracked something deep within her chest.

“Of course,” her husband murmured, his tone rumbling and low. “Whatever you wish.”

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Harrison had endured nightmares that were less terrifying than discovering his wife had been lost on the moors. He’d barely managed to read the rest of the note from his sister before he was tearing about Trevadden, ordering his horse be readied, and riding hell-bent for her cottage without even a proper coat.

He’d thought only of Adelaide.

When he’d suggested she go for a ride, he’d never imagined that she would not know her way, and she had never said…

But he had never offered to show her the area or give her any tours. He had not introduced her to anyone that had not been invited to Trevadden for their ball. Had not shown her the village. Had not taken her down to the beach. Had not explained the way of life for so many here.

Had not given her anything that would make Cornwall feel like home.

Trevadden was all well and good, and she had certainly made herself comfortable enough there. But outside of its walls, everything would have been as foreign as though she had arrived in America. Or Africa, perhaps. Any place where she might have been at a complete loss as to the way of life or her location, where dangers could lurk in places she would never suspect them, and she would be left ill-equipped to manage anything at all.

The fault lay squarely with him, and no assurances from his sister would convince him otherwise.

It had been all he could do to leave Adelaide at the door of her rooms after supper, knowing how fatigued she was and abiding by her wishes to cease their time together at night, now she was with child. It was not that he wanted to take her to bed, not in that sense. He simply wanted to watch over her, assure himself that she was safe and well, that he had not lost her due to his own pride and folly, his utter blindness to the situation, feelings, and reality of anyone else around him.

He’d have been perfectly happy to hold her in his arms the entire night if she had asked it of him. But she had not. And his night had passed slowly because of the separation. Painfully so.

This morning, he was little better, anxious to see her, to apologize, to talk, to do anything that would assuage his concerns.