Something Wonderful Read online

  “That must be extremely vexatious for you,” Alexandra said dryly, when Smarth flushed deeper.

  He shifted from one foot to the other, shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out again and looked at her in helpless dismay, his weathered face creased with unhappiness. “You wanted me ter tell you ’bout his grace’s parents, and me ’n’ Gibbons agreed we cain’t deny yer command. Besides, ye’ve a right t’ know.” And in a voice low and uneasy, Smarth related very nearly the same general history that Tony had told her.

  “And now you know what it’s been like around here fer all these years,” Smarth finished, “me ’n’ Gibbons is hopin’ you’ll stay here and bring laughter to th’ place, th’ way you did when you was here afore.”

  “Real laughter,” Smarth clarified. “Not the kind what comes from the mouth—the kind what comes from the heart like you gived us afore. The master ain’t never heard the sound o’ it at Hawthorne, and it would do him a world a good, specially if you could git him ter join in wit it.”

  * * *

  Everything Alexandra had learned today revolved in her head like a dizzying kaleidoscope, turning and changing shape, taking on new dimensions throughout the rest of the day and long after Jordan had pulled her to him and fallen asleep.

  The sky was already lightening, and still she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, hesitating to take a course of action that could—and undoubtedly would—make her vulnerable to Jordan once again. Until now, she’d made leaving here her goal; and, in line with that, she’d kept her every emotion and every action in careful check.

  She turned onto her side and Jordan’s arm encircled her, drawing her back against his chest and the backs of her legs against his own while he buried his face in her hair. His hand lifted, cupping her breast in a sleepy caress and sending a tremor of delight through her entire body.

  She wanted him, Alexandra realized with a despondent inner sigh. Despite everything he had been—a libertine, a heartless flirt, and an unwilling husband—she wanted him. In the safe silence of her heart, she was finally willing to admit that to herself now . . . because now she realized that he was more than just a spoiled, shallow aristocrat.

  She wanted his love, his trust, and his children. She wanted to make this house ring with laughter for him, and to make Hawthorne seem beautiful to him. She wanted to make the entire world beautiful for him.

  Tony, the dowager duchess, and even Melanie had all believed she could make Jordan fall in love with her. She couldn’t give up without trying, she knew that now.

  But she didn’t know how she was going to endure it if she failed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  MY LORD?” she whispered at dawn the next morning.

  Jordan opened one sleepy eye and beheld his wife looking bright and alert as she sat down on his bed beside his hip. “Good morning,” he murmured, his appreciative gaze shifting to the V of tantalizing flesh exposed by the bodice of her belted silk dressing gown. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice husky with sleep. He glanced toward the windows and realized the sky was not blue, but a weak shade of grey streaked with pale pink.

  Unlike Jordan, Alexandra had been awake all night and was therefore not suffering from any foggy remnants of drowsiness. “Six o’clock,” she answered brightly.

  “You’re joking!” he uttered. Appalled by the early hour, he promptly closed his eyes and required an explanation for being awakened at dawn: “Is someone ill?”

  “No.”

  “Dead?”

  “No.”

  A faint smile tugged at his firm lips and creased the sides of his closed eyes as he mumbled, “Illness or death are the only acceptable reasons for a rational human to be awake this early in the morning. Come back to bed.”

  Alexandra chuckled at his lighthearted, sleepy banter, but she shook her head. “No.”

  Despite his closed eyes and apparent sleepiness, Jordan had already registered the unusually bright smile on his wife’s face, as well as the fact that her hip was pressing against his thigh. Normally, Alexandra’s smiles were reserved, not relaxed, and she scrupulously avoided touching him whenever possible, unless he was making love to her.

  Curiosity over the reason for her very pleasant, but very unusual behavior this morning made him open his eyes and look at her. With her hair tumbling over her shoulders and her skin glowing with health, she looked delicious. She also looked like she had something on her mind. “Well?” he said lightly, restraining the urge to pull her down on top of him. “I am, as you can see, awake.”

  “Good,” she said, hiding her uncertainty behind a vivacious smile, “because there’s something special I’d like to do this morning.”

  “At this hour?” Jordan teased. “What is there to do, save to sneak out to the road, pounce on an unwary traveler, and steal his purse. Only thieves and servants are about now.”

  “We don’t have to leave for a while yet.” Alexandra hedged as her courage began to ebb, and she braced for his refusal. “And if you’ll recall, you did say you wanted to make yourself agreeable to me—”

  “What is it you’d like to do?” Jordan asked with a sigh, mentally considering the usual things women tried to get men to do with them.

  “Guess.”

  “You want me to take you shopping for a new bonnet in the village?” he ventured unenthusiastically.

  She shook her head, sending her hair tumbling over her left shoulder and breast.

  “You want to ride out early to see the sun rise over the hills so you can sketch the view?”

  “I can’t draw a straight line,” Alexandra confessed. Drawing a shaky breath, she summoned all her courage and announced, “I want to go fishing!”

  “Fishing?” Jordan repeated, gaping at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “You want me to to go fishing at this hour of the morning?” Before she could answer, he shoved his head deeper into the pillows and firmly closed his eyes, apparently rejecting the idea—but there was a smile in his voice as he said, “Not unless there wasn’t a scrap of food to eat and we were both prostrate from starvation.”

  Encouraged by his tone, if not his words, she cajoled, “You wouldn’t have to spend your time teaching me the proper technique—I already know how to fish.”

  He opened one eye, his voice amused. “What makes you think I do?”

  “If you don’t know how, I’ll show you.”

  “Thank you, but I can manage on my own,” he said with asperity, studying her intently.

  “Good,” Alexandra said, so relieved she was almost babbling. “So can 1.1 can do everything for myself, including put my own worm on my own hook—”

  His lips quirked in a smile. “Excellent, then you can bait my hook. I refuse to awaken helpless worms at this ungodly hour and then compound the crime by torturing them.”

  His humor was so contagious that a gurgle of laughter escaped Alexandra as she stood up and tightened the belt on her rosesilk dressing robe. “I’ll take care of all the arrangements,” she said happily and headed for her bedchamber.

  Leaning back against the pillows, Jordan admired the unconsciously seductive sway of her hips as she walked away, while he fought down the urge to summon her back to his bed and spend the next hour in the delightful—and laudable—occupation of siring his heir. He did not want to go fishing. Nor did he understand why she did, but he was certain there was a reason for it, and he was curious to discover what it was.

  Alexandra had indeed taken “care of all the arrangements,” he realized when they wended their way on horseback down the opposite side of the high ridge that blocked the house from view of a wide, rushing stream.

  Tying their horses to a pair of trees at the base of the ridge, he walked beside her down to the grassy banks of the stream, where a bright blue blanket had been spread out beneath a giant oak tree. “What’s all that?” he asked, indicating the two large baskets and one small one beside the blanket.

  “Breakfast,” Alexandra replied, shooting hi