“How did you spend your time when you were not getting yourself wounded on this Staten Island?”
He shrugged and she saw a cynical light enter his eyes. “I did naught of anything, really. Insignificant encounters with the rebels. And there were, of course, balls and dinners held by the New York Tories.” He paused a moment, the image of Jenny stark in his mind. He looked away from her. “Time passed, Cass, as it always does.”
Edward’s recital of his long months without her seemed as brief and stark to her as her own recital. She wondered, staring at his straight, lean figure, if he had omitted as much as had she.
Chapter 24
Cassie took a last bite of Mrs. Beatty’s apple pie and sat back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. The landlady had appeared at their door an hour before, napkin-covered dishes weighing down her thin arms. It was thoughtful of her to have guessed that they preferred to be alone in their room their first evening together, and not come downstairs to the inn parlor. Actually, Cassie thought, if Mrs. Beatty had not obligingly brought them their dinner, they likely would have forgotten it.
She gazed at Edward over her coffee cup. He had grown ill at ease during their dinner, and she easily guessed the reason. Night had fallen and they were alone but a few feet away from his darkened bedchamber, as man and wife.
It was fortunate that their lives had been so closely intertwined, for it had allowed them to fall easily into pleasant reminiscing. During the afternoon, they had allowed themselves to blot out the months they had been apart. Edward had reminded her of the time he had knocked down Edmond Danvers for calling Cassie naught but a bothersome little girl who had more tangles in her hair than a sparrow’s nest. Her unrestrained laughter still sounded in her ears. But now it was evening, and they could no longer pretend to be carefree children.
During the last few weeks aboard The York, Cassie had argued with herself for hours at a time about how she would approach this moment with Edward. She knew that consideration for her feelings was as natural to him as was his sense of honor. And given what she had told him about the past months, she did not doubt that he was in a quandary about the prospect of lovemaking with her. It was her belief that he loved her deeply that eased her mind. And because he loved her, she wanted to give him all of her that she could. He was her lifelong friend, the man she was to have married, the man she now would marry. “I should very much like a bath, Edward.”
He blinked at her. “A bath? Certainly, Cass. I shall see to it now.” There was relief in his voice as he rose stiffly from his chair and strode with alacrity toward the door.
He returned some fifteen minutes later, followed by the boy, Will, each of them carrying steaming buckets of hot water.
“There is a hipbath in the bedroom,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
She would have smiled at his obvious discomfiture were she not herself so nervous about their first night together. She rose and trailed after him. The bedchamber was a small, square room, its furnishings, like those in the sitting room, built for utility. She saw Edward looking toward the bed.
She walked to the hipbath. “I would imagine that you are far too large to fit in it, Edward.”
“It is quite adequate,” he said, stiffly. “I will leave you now, Cass. If you have need of anything, please call.”
“Thank you. I shall be fine.”
Edward saw Will out the door and sat himself down in his favorite chair, a high-backed mahogany affair with solid unfinished arms. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Each time he tried to think about what the incredible events of the day meant to him in a controlled, reasoned light, he was stopped by a quickening in his loins. Cassie was in his bedchamber, now likely naked, and in his bathtub.