Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) by Cheryl Bolen Read Free Book Online Page B

see a grandson.” Her voice broke, her eyes misted.
    He drew her close and planted soft kisses in her hair. “He may, love. He may.”
    She began to cough, separating from him, and turning her head away.
    She had coughed a great deal on their journey, and it now seemed to him her cough had worsened. He turned to her, his brows lowered with concern. “How long have you been suffering that wretched cough?”
    She shrugged. “It does seem a little worse each day.”
    “You should be snug in a warm room, not in this frigid coach.” He put his arm around her and gathered her close. “Perhaps you should put your face beneath the rug so the air you inhale won't be so cold to your compromised lungs.”
    Her little arm came around him as she nodded and nuzzled her face just below the rug that spread over their torsos. Soon she was asleep.
    Hers was a surprisingly comforting presence but disappointingly different than he felt with others of her sex. A pity. With Belle, he felt protective, not seductive.
     

Chapter 5
     
    “Put me down! I am not child!” She looked around to discover they had arrived at Upper Barrington under dim late afternoon skies. Her maddening husband was carrying her from the coach to the house as if she were a helpless babe.
    She would almost rather he loathe her than to treat her so blasted fatherly.
    He stopped in mid-stride and stood her up. “It's just that I hated to awaken you. You were sleeping so soundly, and that nasty cough has to be wearing on you.” His gaze fanned over the gravel drive which was blanketed with a fresh snow. “I was trying to protect you from the cold.”
    She should be grateful for his concern, but she was not. He acted far too much like a father than a man who could ever come to desire physical intimacy with her. They silently trod to the massive front door of the equally massive house which looked far more like a medieval castle than a country home built during her father's lifetime. Her thoughts turned melancholy. Will he ever desire me as a man desires a woman?
    She made up her mind on the spot she would not force this marriage. He would not be welcome in her bed until such time as she could be convinced that her bed was where he truly wanted to be. Up until this moment she has assumed she would give herself to him that very night, but now she knew it could be a very long time before this marriage would be consummated.
    If it ever was.
    Only a handful of servants stayed on at Upper Barrington year-round, the chief one being the housekeeper. She rushed to greet them, smashing her mobcap on her brown and silver curls. Belle understood that the middle-aged woman would have had no need to dress her hair since she'd been rattling around the big house almost alone for months.
    Mrs. Farraday's quizzing gaze went first to de Vere.
    “Lord de Vere,” Belle said, “I should like to present our housekeeper, Mrs. Farraday.” Turning to the woman, Belle added. “His lordship is my husband.”
    Her eyes wide with surprise, the bony Mrs. Farraday curtsied. Belle knew her marriage must be a shock to the housekeeper. Most people had assumed Miss Annabelle Pemberton was entrenched into spinsterhood.
    Despite that de Vere was being beastly brotherly, Belle was rather overjoyed to be able to introduce this magnificent creature as her husband.
    “Oh, dear me,” Mrs. Farraday said, “I haven't prepared a room for his lordship. Will he be in yours, your ladyship?” The silly woman had wasted no time in addressing Belle by her new title. What was there about servants that made them so snobbish? All her servants back in London had swelled with pride to now be engaged by a real lady and wasted no time in addressing their mistress as such.
    At the very idea of sharing her bedchamber with this man she had married, Belle's heartbeat roared. “The one next to mine, I should think.” Somehow, she had managed to maintain her composure. She gazed up at de Vere and tried to speak casually.