A Marriage Of Rogues. Margaret Moore

time.

      “There’s no need for you to cut your bath short. I can wait.”

      “I’m finished.” She suddenly realized all her clothes were on the other side of the screen, where he was.

      “I suppose two won’t fit even if I was welcome.”

      “No. Now please leave the room.”

      “Don’t you think that would look a bit odd? We are newlyweds, after all.”

      He was, unfortunately, right. “Then please get my underclothes and dress. Hang them over the top of the screen,” she added, lest he come around it.

      “I didn’t expect you to be so bashful.”

      What had he expected? That she would throw herself, naked, into his arms? “Will you please do as I ask?”

      Much to her relief, he did.

      “Not quite where I’d envisioned spending my wedding night,” he mused aloud while she hurried into her clothes.

      She swallowed hard and felt the heat of a blush color her face, and other warmth spreading through her body. She’d been too afraid he wouldn’t agree to her proposal to imagine the wedding night, at least until she’d returned to the inn in Dundrake. Last night she’d scarcely been able to avoid thinking about it. Now, when it was imminent, she was torn between curiosity, dismay and a longing that she could hardly describe; in other words, she was the opposite of calm and composed, while her husband apparently didn’t find this situation at all out of the ordinary.

      “I always thought it would be Dundrake Hall or my town house in London.”

      She was immediately glad they were here rather than his ancestral home or town house staffed by his servants. It was humbling enough knowing he had more experience between the sheets. If they were in one of his homes tonight, she would feel completely out of her depth in more ways than she already was.

      There was another knock at the door. That must be the maidservant with cold water, Thea thought as she peered around the screen. Sir Develin’s greatcoat and jacket were on the bed, and so was his cravat. His shirt, still tucked into his trousers, was open at the collar, exposing a portion of his chest.

      Regardless of his state of undress, Sir Develin opened the door, to reveal the waiting maidservant holding another pitcher.

      The girl’s eyes widened in surprise, and then her expression turned admiring and even flirtatious. That was surely the usual female reaction to Sir Develin Dundrake, and Thea ordered herself not to take offense.

      “I’ve brought some cold water, sir,” she said.

      “Thank you, but it’s not necessary,” he replied. “Nor will it be necessary to disturb us again. We’ll come down when we’re ready to dine.”

      “Yes, sir,” the maidservant said, bobbing a curtsey and smiling even wider when Sir Develin handed her a coin.

      Thea came out from behind the screen. She was about to suggest she go below when the man who was now her husband closed the door and turned toward her. As his gaze held hers, he began to unbutton his trousers.

       Chapter Three

      With a gulp Thea immediately started for the door. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your ablutions in peace.”

      “Stay.”

      Hesitating, she glanced over her shoulder. He hadn’t completely undone his trousers, but he’d taken off his shirt. She quickly looked away. “You’re half-naked!”

      The only other men she’d seen so undressed had been laborers in the fields or on the docks, large, beefy men who reminded her of a lumbering bear she’d once seen at a fair. Compared to them, Sir Develin was like a lean and muscular stag.

      “Since we’re married, we’ll have to get used to seeing each other less than fully clothed,” he said, running a measuring gaze over her that made her feel as if she might as well be naked. “I never kissed you at the wedding.”

      She took a step backward and hit the door. “It wasn’t necessary.”

      “It would have been the proper thing to do.”

      Proper? The word was like a dash of cold water, but it helped settle her rattled nerves. “Yes, I daresay it would have. But no matter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going downstairs. I’m rather hungry.”

      “Need I remind you that we’re supposed to be newly married? We should go together, or it might cause unwanted speculation.”

      He did have a point. There was going to be enough gossip among the ton when word got out about their marriage. She should avoid causing more.

      “Very well,” she replied, doing her best to keep her voice steady and her features expressionless in spite of the tumultuous feelings that made her feel like she was on a runaway horse. The desire to be with him as a wife should be and the hope that he would like her tangled with the fear of looking foolish, of doing something wrong, of seeming ignorant or silly.

      “Good. Now I’m going to have a bath,” he said, walking around the screen.

      Thea perched on the edge of the chair and tried to ignore the sound of Sir Develin removing the rest of his clothes: the dull thud of his boots landing on the floor, the softer sound of his stockings and trousers following.

      No doubt he was used to having his valet pick up his discarded clothing.

      She was not his valet and she was not about to go around that screen, not for anything.

      And yet, when she heard the water sloshing in the tub, she couldn’t resist the urge to peek through the nearest opening where the screen folded. His muscular back was to her and she watched as he washed his broad shoulders, dampening the dark hair curling at the nape of his neck.

      And then he stood up.

      Blushing like a thief caught red-handed, she averted her gaze while also wondering—fearing—he had looked through the same opening at her. Which way had she been facing?

      “Will you be so kind as to fetch my valise?” he asked serenely, as if he bathed in the company of women all the time.

      Perhaps he did. After all, this wouldn’t be his first night with a woman. He’d probably been seen naked by several, and more than once.

      Although she was a virgin, he might not be pleased if she acted like a skittish horse, and she did want him to want her.

      She walked over to the bed, picked up his valise and went behind the screen.

      Sir Develin stood beside the tub with a towel wrapped around his narrow waist, riding low on his hips. With his dark hair brushing his shoulders, he looked like a wild young god, or Alexander the Great come to life.

      Her heart racing, forgetting that she wanted to appear worldly-wise, she handed him the valise and hurried back to the chair, where she did her best to regain her composure. She would not look through that gap again, in spite of how tempted she was.

      At last he came around the screen, fully dressed and looking as polished as he had seemed primitive and uncivilized before.

      While she suddenly felt like a beggar made a guest at a feast.

      Nevertheless, she rose, straightened her slender shoulders and said, “I would like to dine now.”

      With a regal nod, her husband held out his arm and together they made their way to the taproom.

      * * *

      “Here you are, my lady and gentleman,” the innkeeper exclaimed, hurrying toward Dev and his bride and grinning like a benevolent uncle.

      He led them past several other couples to a table close to the brightly flickering fire in the hearth. A majority