Free With This Kiss by Victoria Lynne Page B

formal attire he had worn earlier.
    “May I enter?” he asked.
    Her thoughts immediately turned to her own clothing. She was dressed in a simple cotton nightrail and matching robe. She had removed the pins from her hair, releasing it from the elaborate arrangement she had worn earlier, but had not yet braided it for bed. It hung in loose, careless waves that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.
    “I should dress,” she said.
    “For bed?” He arched one dark brow as a tight, mocking grin touched his lips. “Given that we have embarked together into the sacred state of matrimony, I believe it entirely proper and acceptable that I see you in your nightrail.”
    Something in his tone sent a tremor of nervous apprehension flooding through her belly. But short of refusing him entrance, there was little she could do. She forced a polite smile and stepped away from the door.
    He strode into the center of her bedchamber, pausing for a moment as his gaze moved around the space. “I trust you find your room adequate?”
    “It’s lovely, thank you.”
    “I take it everything else is satisfactory as well?”
    She hesitated. Rather than chastise him for having left her alone all day, she chose instead a softer approach. “I’m afraid I must have missed you at supper.”
    “Ah, yes,” he said, as though suddenly reminded of the fact. “If you like, you might pass a note to Mrs. Nagle, the cook. Let her know when you prefer to dine, what you enjoy, that sort of thing.”
    “What about you?”
    “I am accustomed to taking my supper late, and generally in the privacy of my study.”
    “I see.” Silence fell between them. Believing their interview at an end, she pulled her robe closed and tightened the belt around her waist, saying primly, “Thank you for calling upon me to say good night. It was kind of you to do so.”
    The mocking smile returned to his lips. “Kind, was it?” He turned abruptly away, crossing to stand before the collection of ornamental bric-a-brac that had belonged to her parents.
    Julia realized she had forgotten to thank him for purchasing the items when they had gone up for auction. She had found the pieces earlier, when the maid had shown her to her room, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture had deeply touched her. “They belonged to my parents,” she said to Morgan, watching as his gaze moved over the lot. “They’re of little monetary value, but have great sentimental—”
    “Why did you want to sell them?”
    There was an accusatory edge to his voice that she did not miss. She stiffened her spine and replied with unabashed honesty, “I needed the money. I only did what was absolutely necessary.”
    His expression hardened as a cool, determined light filled his smoky gaze. “What a beautiful martyr you make. Resolved to make the ultimate sacrifice, aren’t you? How very brave.”
    Before she could guess his intent, he moved to a small gas lamp that sat near the door and extinguished the flame. Then he turned to yet another lamp and did the same.
    “What are you doing?” Her voice came out in a high, trembling rush.
    “What does it look like I’m doing?”
    “It appears as though you’re turning down all the lamps.”
    “Remarkable. Perceptive as well as brave.”
    The last of the lamps extinguished, they stood together in a hushed darkness that was broken only by the silvery glow of the moon. Morgan crossed the room and stood before her. Brandy. She could smell brandy on his breath. Her mind whirled, sending her thoughts spinning in sickening circles. He had been drinking, but how much? Would he force her? Legally he had every right to do so. The thought sent a tremor of fear and anticipation flooding through her.
    Julia licked her suddenly parched lips as her heart began to race. She stared at her husband in horrified fascination, refusing to believe what was about to happen. She had known this moment would come, of course, just not so soon. Not until they knew each