Read Online Jilted in January by Kate Pearce - Free Book Online Page A

our luck, do you really think that would work?”
    He winced. “Probably not.”
    “Then perhaps we should make the best of it.” Rose nodded at the bed. “I’m rather cold, so I’ll get in.”
    “I’ll bank up the fire.” He turned his back, giving her the opportunity to scramble into bed and scoot across to the right-hand side. Her heart was already thumping as if she’d run a race. Watching Mr. Ford attend to the fire and then blow out all the candles apart from the one beside the bed did nothing to alleviate her anticipation. In truth, watching him was strangely compelling, especially when he retreated to the furthest corner and started stripping off his clothes…
    Eventually he paused, one hand on the buttons that held up his breeches, and looked her way.
    “I don’t suppose you noticed where Mrs. Pemberley put my nightshirts?”
    “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t.”
    “Then would you prefer it if I came to bed like this?”
    Rose studied him carefully. “Won’t you be rather uncomfortable? Why not just keep your shirt on if you are cold.”
    “If you are sure.”
    “I…” Her throat dried as he stripped off his cravat and his shirtfront fell open, offering her a glimpse of pale skin and dark hair. He stepped out of his breeches, folded them carefully in the manner of someone who took care of his possessions, and placed them on the back of the nearest chair. His shirt fell almost to his knees, but she could see his bare legs.
    He advanced toward the bed, pausing only to blow out the last candle before climbing in beside her. Rose held her breath, aware of her bed suddenly shrinking as her new husband stretched out beside her. His shoulder bumped hers, and she jumped.
    “May I hold you?” he asked softly.
    She could only nod and allow him to slip his arm around her shoulders and gather her close. For some reason, the most perfect spot for her head to rest against was his chest. She took a deep breath and inhaled a hint of brandy, leather, and cheap lye soap.
    He kissed the top of her head. “It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it? I can’t say I expected to be a respectable married man by the end of it.”
    “It felt as if the whole day were a dream,” she admitted.
    “You looked beautiful in that blue dress.”
    “It used to belong to our absent duchess.”
    He chuckled. “I’m fairly sure she wouldn’t begrudge it to you. She has always been very kind to me.”
    His fingers drifted down her throat and along the curve of her collarbone.
    “Aren’t you hot in that robe?”
    In answer, she sat up and took it off, tossing it onto the floor. Her nightgown was made of linen and was without ornamentation, but Mr. Ford was still staring at her as if she’d disrobed completely. She shrank down into the covers, and his arm came back around her.
    “Mr. Ford…”
    He kissed her nose. “Do you think you might call me Colin? Only when we are alone, obviously.”
    “I will do my best. You may call me Rose.”
    “Thank you. It suits you very well.” His fingers traced a pattern on the back of her neck, which made her want to squirm in a rather pleasurable way. “Your mother obviously liked flower names.”
    “For her daughters. I wish she’d called David Petunia or something like that. It might have made him less pompous.”
    He shook with laughter, making her aware of his heat and strength beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Or Buttercup.”
    “Or Lupin.” Unbelievably, Rose found herself smiling. “Although I suspect he would have suffered greatly at Eton if he’d been blessed with any of those names.”
    “Which would’ve done him the world of good.”
    A yawn shook through Rose, and she muffled it against his shoulder.
    “We should go to sleep,” he murmured.
    She opened her eyes. “But we haven’t—”
    “We don’t have to do anything until you are ready.”
    A familiar note of determination suffused his voice. He rolled onto his back, drawing her with him so that she was