Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

L illy woke up with the first faint streams of sunshine filtering in through heavy blue curtains. She blinked groggily, surveying her unfamiliar surroundings. It wasn't until someone shifted in the bed beside her that the events of last night came back to her in a dizzying rush.

She was in her bed at the inn, and she had invited Hadrian to share it with her.

Heat stained her cheeks as she remembered her brazen behavior, but it slowly faded when she realized she was married to this man. It was perfectly natural for them to share a bed. Even though their marriage was not real, no one at this inn knew that, so no one would give a second thought to the fact that he had stayed with her last night.

Even though he lay on top of the coverlet, she still felt warm to her very bones, warm in a way she had never really achieved in her own cold, lonely bed. She hesitated to move even an inch for fear of waking him up and ruining the moment.

Carefully, she turned her head toward him and found that he had curved his body along hers, putting one arm around her waist and holding her close.

She gazed upon his gorgeous sleeping face, wondering how any woman was supposed to resist such a man. He was simply too beautiful to be real. She longed to reach out and run her fingertips across his full lips and the hard planes of his masculine face. She wanted to run her fingers through his golden hair. Perhaps it was that combination of hard and soft that made him so appealing.

As though he felt her looking at him, he slowly opened his green eyes, and a smile curved those lush lips. "Hello, wife," he said in a teasing voice.

She smiled tentatively in return. "Hello, husband."

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, removing his arm from around her waist and rolling on his back, stretching mightily.

She put a little distance between them, feeling overwhelmed and strange to be so close to him. "Very well," she assured him. "How about you?"

He sighed and got out of bed, striding to the dressing table where a basin and a pitcher of water stood. He poured some in the basin, then wet a washcloth and scrubbed his face briskly before turning to face her again. "Pretty well, considering that's the first time in my life I've slept the whole night through with a woman."

"Really?" she murmured, pushing herself up against the headboard. "I thought your exploits were legion."

He laughed. "They are. But there is a big difference between what we just did and my normal... exploits."

She felt that now-familiar heat in her cheeks at his reminder that his relationship with her was not like he'd had with other women. What did he find so lacking in her? Why didn't he feel the slightest inclination to exercise his husbandly rights? From what she understood, most men would fornicate with practically anyone.

Her face must have shown something of what she was feeling because he strode toward her, his expression intense. "That's a good thing, Lilly. I enjoyed last night more than I have enjoyed anything in a long time."

She blinked up at him, surprised by the passion of his gaze. "Truly?"

"Truly."

She managed a hesitant smile. "I felt safe," she said simply. "And warm. And I wasn't lonely. It was wonderful."

He started to lean forward, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but then he cleared his throat and turned away. "I'll go order us some breakfast. Would you like me to send someone up to help you dress?"

She nodded, and he left the room. She performed her ablutions, and the innkeeper's daughter came up to help her into the spare dress she had brought. Before long, she was climbing back into the carriage, and they were once more underway.

The intimacy they had shared at the inn seemed to loosen their tongues because there were no awkward silences on the second leg of their journey. They spent the entire trip talking, catching up with everything that had gone on since they had become adults. However, Lilly couldn't stop thinking about spending the night beside him, the warmth and comfort of it. What she wouldn't give to spend every night that way. If only they were truly wed…

Late that afternoon, they pulled up in front of the immense country home where Hadrian had spent most of his childhood, which was right next door to the one where she had spent hers, and the feeling of homecoming overwhelmed her. She knew this place like the back of her hand, having run through its corridors with Hadrian when they were children. It felt like home to her, and she had not felt like she had a home since her father died.

She glanced across the carriage to see Hadrian staring up at his family's grand old house with a strange expression. Resignation, perhaps?

"We're here," he said as one of the footmen opened the door for them. "It hasn't changed a bit."

Autumnwood Hall probably hadn't changed in centuries. It had been in the Oakfield family for generations, standing steadfast as monarchies rose and fell around it. And it would probably continue to stand long after they were gone. She found the thought strangely comforting, though she didn't think he felt the same. It obviously signified something completely different for him—the heritage he couldn't escape.

He hopped lithely out of the coach without waiting for a footman and then held up a hand to steady her as she also disembarked.

A row of servants were waiting upon the grand front steps, and they all bowed and curtsied to her as they passed. Hadrian smiled thinly. "Father must have sent word ahead that I was bringing my new bride," he said quietly.

"That was kind of him," she said just as softly, unexpectedly grateful to her new father-in-law. This gesture showed all the staff that she was indeed the mistress of this grand house, no matter how her husband felt about the matter. It would make it far easier to gain cooperation from them as she went about becoming the mistress of the house.

Once they had entered the grand hall, the housekeeper hurried to their side, her great set of keys clanking at her side. "I have taken the liberty of having the gold room made up for you, my lady. I will have your things sent up there and send Mary up to help you with a bath so you can wash the road off of you."

Lilly smiled at her. "Thank you. That would be lovely."

Hadrian gave her a little bow of his own. "I will retire to my room as well. I will see you later."

Then he strode quickly away, leaving Lilly to follow the housekeeper upstairs.

Hadrian sat broodingly in the study, his feet on his father's huge mahogany desk, a glass of the best Scotch in the house dangling from his fingertips. He had been sitting here getting quite drunk for hours, ever since he and Lilly had arrived. He knew he should get cleaned up and join her for dinner, but he delayed until it was far too late. She had undoubtedly gone to bed, which was fine by him. He didn't think he could face her right now.

All his stupid maneuvering had ended him in a worse situation than if he had just done as his father wanted and married the loveliest belle of the season. He could have picked someone with a huge dowry and a pretty face and performed his husbandly duties without any care or remorse until she had managed to produce the requisite heir and spare, all while continuing to carouse to his heart's desire. But doing that to Lilly...

His heart clenched at the very thought. She meant something to him, damn it! He couldn't bear the thought of seeing tears streak down her lovely face when she realized that he had betrayed her. Because once he made love to her, it would change everything. She would undoubtedly expect more from him than their bargain had originally entailed, and he couldn't blame her.

But the thought of spending the next few months entombed out here in the country made him feel as though he was suffocating.

He cursed quietly and downed the rest of his glass, then poured another, his movements already impaired.

She wanted a family, he reminded himself. She had been sad when he had said he didn't intend to consummate the marriage. In fact, he knew that if he went to her at this very moment, she would welcome him with open arms.

She cared about him. Even loved him, perhaps.

He had been shocked to remember over the last month that he cared about her, too. So much so that he had found excuses not to be with any other woman since he had proposed, no matter how much his friends teased him about it. She had consumed his thoughts, and the thought of being with anyone else had been repugnant.

What was she doing to him? He felt like he was going through some metamorphosis but was afraid of what he might become. Not the man the Brazen Belle had written about. Of that, he was certain.

He had enjoyed the hours since their wedding more than he had spent in a very long time. Would it be so bad to visit the country now and again? To spend time with her and give her the family she desired?

The thought was far too appealing, which absolutely terrified him.