Thirty

Gwendolyn

Touching my lips for the hundredth time this afternoon, I grinned like a dizzy young miss. I have never truly been a shy woman, but somehow, with Hunter, he provoked this odd sort of bashfulness. I wanted to impress him. I wanted to win his heart… I wanted him to fall in love with me.

Stunned at my internal declarations, I stepped over to the window and recalled watching him mount Claymore with one powerful leap only two hours ago. The strength of his thighs and torso brought a renewed warmth to my cheeks along with the memory of his arms around me, but especially his mouth on mine.

That was not the kiss of someone indifferent and certainly not the kiss of one who loved another.

Chills ran up my spine and caused gooseflesh to appear on my arms.

I couldn't wait for him to return.

I went to my painting and set the canvas aside. The image would not do now… nor the darker colors. I could only see bright hues. A burst of happiness exploded in my chest, but Julia's last poem detailed the heartache of losing someone in the war. I placed a fresh board on the easel and went to the small stack I kept of Julia's poems. After sifting through them, I found the very one that matched my sentiment.

A heart of gears, a clockwork soul,

A lover's pledge, a timeless toll.

With cogs and springs, it beats as one,

A love that's forged, a race well run.

The hands of time, they gently turn,

An uttered vow, a love to burn.

Steeled heart, a whispered plea,

Forever bound, for you and me.

Who knew Julia had so much passion to share? Even though the words of her poems of love and emotion had not changed since I last read them, they only recently became more and more relevant in my life.

Taking a small piece of charcoal, I sketched the outline of a heart no bigger than my palm. The inner workings of a clock would fill that shortly, but first I ruminated on the setting where the heart clock appeared. I tapped my finger against my lips.

Though I tried hard to concentrate, the tingling in my fingers and toes reminded me of Hunter's kisses. My body may never be the same. Despite Josiah's stolen efforts early in our courtship, not once did he truly melt my insides like Hunter does.

That's it.

I sketched smoldering flames lapping on all sides of the heart clock, remembering the heat that overpowered any sense while he embraced me.

It wasn't until hours later that my painting took shape with the bold hues of reds, oranges, and yellows, then a metallic gold for the heart clock and dark gray for its gears. Pleased with my creation, I stepped back and viewed the nearly finished painting and knew straightaway I could never give this one away.

Since my painting had occupied my thoughts throughout the day, I failed to see the fluttering of snow outside the windows until Freddie came inside to place more wood in the hearth.

"It's going to be a cold one tonight, my lady, but we will make sure there is additional wood in your bedchamber."

I glanced out the window. December was historically always cold, but snow and frost in London were a rarity. Some years, it only received a skiff deep enough to force one inside for possibly one day at the most.

Of course, just last January a frost fair was held on the frozen plain of the Thames. The fair featured booths, mystical acts, plenty of warm cider, and an elephant even made an appearance on the solid ice. Then a pang replaced my fond memory. Hunter would be traveling in such dreadful weather, and I turned to praying fervently he would remain safe and unharmed.

Freddie finished stoking the fire and stood up. "It's possible with the way the snow is comin' down, it might continue for days."

I watched the snowfall increase and frowned. How I wished I was with Hunter. Now that we shared our first proper kiss, I could only imagine the joy we might have felt curled up by the roaring fire in Gottling's library or sharing a blanket and warm brick while in the coach.

Henry now appeared in the doorway. "Pardon me, my lady. The duke and duchess have inquired whether you are joining them this evening."

I rubbed the sleeves of my dress, feeling the chill seep through the windowpane. Without Hunter, I would have to attend the dinner with his parents alone. Though his mother was one of the kindest women I'd ever met, I did not particularly care to be around the duke without Hunter present.

"Would you convey my apologies? I feel a megrim coming on and must rest." I didn't entirely voice an untruth. Staring at my painting for hours truly caused some discomfort.

Still glancing outside, I couldn't help but wonder if Hunter had reached his destination safely. I learned from Trenton that Gottling Hall was a half day's ride by horse. If he saw to the tenant's concerns and departed in the morning, he could be home by dinner tomorrow night. Then, like creeping tendrils, the roots of doubt slithered back into my mind, reaching in and making me question Hunter's secrecy.

Why did he have to rush off to Gottling Hall so suddenly?

And since I had not seen either of the family's two country estates, why would he not have invited me to join him? Especially since we discussed spending the summer months there, away from his parents. The very idea of Hunter and I spending time alone in the country caused those same chills from earlier to trail my spine once again. Particularly when I imagined how we might spend that time alone.

"Very well, my lady. I will send word of your regrets." Henry bowed and left me to my frustrations.

That night, the snow did not abate. By morning, the entire city appeared buried in what was sure to be the worst snowstorm London had ever seen. As I drew open the curtains, the scene appeared like a winter wonderland. Like something I'd seen in a masterpiece, albeit one that people would certainly prefer to view from afar and not experience firsthand.

The deep snow lay untouched with no clear indication as to where the walkway ended and the road began. Nobody had disturbed it, not a carriage wheel or a horse's hoof imprint. It remained perfectly untouched, and suddenly the same chills I felt on my fingertips as I touched the glass gripped my heart. If this snowstorm essentially stopped the city, what had it done to the country roads? Hunter might be stranded for days.

I reached for the bellpull.

Daphne arrived with an armful of wood. "My lady, I've seen nothing like it in all my years here."

"What do you suppose this means?"

"Nobody'll be going anywhere, that's for certain."

My hand covered my mouth, forcing my gasp to sound more like a whimper.

Daphne rushed to my side. "Did you have someplace to be? I'm certain all social events will be cancelled for at least a sennight."

"A week?" I exclaimed.

I peered over at her. I did not want to be alone without Hunter for one day, much less a week.

"Will you be breakfasting downstairs, my lady?"

It didn't take long to answer, not wanting to be holed up in my room while the world stood still around me. At the very least, I may as well eat breakfast downstairs and afterward perhaps find some distraction in painting. I wished to finish my clock painting before Hunter returned, I couldn't wait to share it with him.

Thinking about my paintings led me to wonder about their mysterious locations throughout London and how Hunter spent an entire day searching for them. I never had anyone pay so much attention to me or my leisure pursuits. I recalled the painting I stumbled upon by accident the day Julia and I went to visit James at Greenwich Hospital shortly after he returned from the war. Julia speaks little of him now. It must be heartbreaking to see your strong and healthy brother leave for war against the French, only to return forever altered and broken.

Then my thoughts shifted to Hunter. He rarely spoke of his time on the continent, he had only briefly mentioned his role in keeping His Majesty's army abreast of what the French troops had planned. However, I knew so little of battle it was hard to grasp what that meant in its entirety. Captain Bently alluded to something when he visited, but even then, I didn't understand the inner workings of the war. Why had I not asked Hunter more? The days we had spent thus far as a married couple were new, truly foreign to us, and while we spent a great deal more time in each other's company than before we wed, I realized I still barely knew the man. Yet I asked him to kiss me . My cheeks warmed at the memory and, despite the forwardness of my behavior, I did not regret it one bit.

Then I realized that my claim that I "barely knew him" was not entirely true and a list began forming in my mind.

I knew he would go to any length to see me smile or make me happy, as proven by his attempt to retrieve the snowdrop and the visit to the ruins.

I knew he showed interest enough in my paintings to search all over London for one entire day.

I knew he respected my talent enough to praise it with sincerity, even to include it in his command to paint at the abbey.

I knew he loved to read, box, ride, and spent eight months on the continent searching for his friend Jaxon.

I knew he was loyal, honorable, kind, and devilishly handsome… and now my husband.

The very thought tickled me to the core. Glancing at the clock above the mantle, I groaned. The time was passing unbearably slowly, and I realized I must find something else to occupy my time until his return or I would go mad.

So, for the rest of the afternoon, I obliged Trenton to play multiple games of chess. I beseeched Daphne to engage in a duet with me on the pianoforte. Though she only dabbled, we enjoyed a delightful laugh. I convinced Mary Jean to teach me how to make Hunter's favorite dessert, a berry trifle, and I was nearly close to asking Hannah to teach me how to wash linens when Daphne intervened and convinced me to finish the needlepoint I had begun on Hunter's handkerchiefs.

As the day wore on, the snow finally ceased falling, but the remnants on the ground truly halted the city. No one ventured out and there were no callers, but that also meant that it was unlikely that Hunter would return home tonight.

By nightfall, I snuggled beneath my coverlet once more, wishing I wasn't alone. Though Hunter and I had yet to share a bed, I knew if he were home, I would have asked him to hold me. Another bold and daring move I knew I would not regret and giggled beneath the covers in anticipation of what's to come.