Fortunately, either because he wasn’t strong enough, or I was in better health than he realised, I only bruised. Those particular bruises proved to be my undoing last night.
An accidental misstep, a hard-backed chair, and I hit the remaining tender spot, which made me cry out. And indeed took my breath from me for a few moments as the flash of exquisite pain emptied my lungs. I had managed, up to that moment, to be careful and not expose the sore areas to any kind of abuse. I am healing; most of the bruises are faded down to mere shadows.
But when in a roomful of attentive gentlemen, with all the candles lit, any kind of physical display indicating pain is noticed immediately.
Thus it was last evening and before I could get my breath back, Giles was behind me, undoing my gown and revealing my sad marital legacy.
The outrage from all of them was palpable. And I should not have been surprised, but I was. The horror they felt on my behalf was comforting, and may—I believe—turn out to be what I needed to completely heal and mark an end to this painful period of my life.
Showing off my back was embarrassing, but I managed to keep my bosom covered with the bodice of my gown, held in place by my hands.
I had no idea the fabric was low enough to reveal those other marks…the ones from Wilkerson’s bony and vicious fingers.
It was as if a dam had broken. They came to me, touched me as if I was a fragile piece of Italian glass. Their affection and distress both warmed and shattered me, and I had a difficult time hiding the tears their attentions brought so close to the surface.
As we parted for the night, each embraced me in their own way; there were kisses, on the hands, on my fingers, a touch of my face and a hand raised to caress a cheek prickly with beard stubble.
It was a night of surprises, painful memories and outpourings of sweet attentions. As I prepared for bed, I felt more at ease with myself than ever before.
Then…and yes, dear Diary, there is more…came a big surprise.
I did not sleep alone.
Goodness, I never thought to write those words, since my late husband refused to sleep in the same bed with me. Something for which, I might add, I shall be eternally grateful.
But back to last night. I was almost asleep when I felt a presence and turned to find Jeremy—yes, Jeremy—slipping out of his robe and into my bed.
He held me. Put his arms around me, turned me away from him so that our bodies would fit…spooning he called it…and that is how I fell asleep.
His warmth, his care of me, stemmed from some incident in his past, he told me. Since that time he has never been able to countenance any kind of violence against a woman, and what he saw on my body persuaded him that he should be with me that night, offering his body as protection and comfort.
I liked it. No, that is too mild a way of expressing my emotions. I loved it. I loved his heat, the scent of his skin, the firm flesh that pressed against my spine and the strong thighs that rode up and supported my legs. I loved the feeling of being safe, protected by his arms.
I even loved the sensation of his maleness, hard and thick, nestled against parts of me I had thought would never see use again. To my surprise, I found myself responding to his presence, relaxing, loosening, and yes I wished I had been naked too. I would like to know how it is to be skin-to-skin with a man. And especially one so well built, handsome and possessed of a fine arousal.
Just the thought makes my body respond; I know enough to understand that the moisture I felt in certain areas was in answer to Jeremy’s touch. I loved it, dear Diary, and I suppose I should now regard myself as a sinner. Well, so be it.
It would seem that sinning is a great deal more pleasurable than being virtuous and then being beaten for it.
I doubt it will happen again, and I shall say no more of it after today.
But I cannot help wondering what it was that made Jeremy react so strongly to the sight of my bruised skin. Perhaps one day I will learn the story behind it…
Chapter Seven
True to her promise, Adalyn kept her counsel and remained silent about Jeremy’s nocturnal visit. Her bed was empty when she awoke, and they continued to greet each other at breakfast as if nothing had happened.
She began to set up a pattern of activity over the next few weeks, and although she suspected that Jeremy would be quite willing to repeat his trip to her room, she did her best to keep any hints that he might be welcome to herself. Feelings of uncertainty whispered in her mind now and again—whether she had she done the right thing or made a horrid mistake. Her upbringing was difficult to overcome even though she was of an age to make her own decisions.
Most mornings, there were letters about estate matters, which she diverted to Daniel. Often they would spend an hour or two going over them, especially if some required expenditures from the Manor accounts.
She might pop down to the kitchen, lured there when Evan was cooking something that sent tendrils of mouth-watering fragrance through the house. She learned much about food from him, the way to tell ripe fruits and vegetables, and how to prove a good loaf of bread.
Learning to ride was supposed to be her spring endeavour, but the weather refused to present any clear days. Trick had hoped to purchase a suitable horse for her, but he announced that until he could assess her seat, he was hesitant to choose one, lest it not fit her requirements.
