And now he was going to be sleeping beside her.

Goodness.

Goodness.

She waited for him to speak, but he never did. He withdrew to the other side of the room, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. In time, she heard the sound of clothing being removed. First his boots, then everything else—or so she imagined.

But when he at last came to join her in bed, she opened her eyes to discover him still wearing his shirt and trousers. She caught a glimpse of his untucked linen shirt before he turned down the oil lamp.

“You’re still dressed,” she said with some chagrin.

“I am.” He climbed in beside her. The already sagging mattress sagged still further under his weight.

Julia had to grip her side of the bed to keep from rolling against him. A futile effort. In seconds, they were as close as they’d been when he’d embraced her.

They faced each other in the firelit darkness, practically nose to nose.

Her heart hammered so hard it stole her breath. “Won’t you be uncomfortable?”

“I’ll be uncomfortable regardless.”

“Then why—”

“I mean to keep my promises to you—one way or another.”

She offered him an uncertain smile. “Am I that hard to resist?”

“Sweetheart,” he said gravely, “you have no idea.”

Twenty-One

Pushing back the curtain, Julia peered out the rain-streaked window of the hired carriage. It was still pouring outside, the lonely Yorkshire landscape a blurry expanse of stormy skies and eerily empty countryside. They’d been on the road for nearly three hours—a distance of more than fifteen miles from the roadside inn outside of Malton.

“Is it much further now?” she asked.

“Another hour,” Jasper said. Dressed in a sober black suit, with an equally sober expression on his face, he was seated across from her in the carriage, not beside her. Indeed, since they’d left the inn, he’d seemed resolved to put a bit of distance between them.

Julia couldn’t think why. Had she said something? Done something? Or was it only that he was brooding about returning home with a new wife in tow?

She was anxious, too. Though her anxiety had nothing to do with regrets about their marriage. Last night, tucked beside him in their narrow attic bed, she’d slept more soundly than she ever had in her life.

It had been an entirely new experience—and not only because he was a man. She’d never shared a bed with anyone before. Even as a little girl, none of her ever-changing roster of nurses had slept beside her. And Julia had never been permitted to have any of her friends stay over, or to stay over with them in return.

Sleeping with Jasper had felt scandalous at the start. He was too big—too male. It was impossible to move an inch without touching him. But exhaustion quickly overtook any thought of shyness or embarrassment. She’d drifted off as soon as she closed her eyes.