Chapter Twenty-Four − To Light a Fire
When the door closed behind her husband, shutting out his warmth, Madeline’s body began to shiver, her teeth chattering loudly. Hurrying to her wardrobe, she pulled out a dry gown when her gaze fell on the firewood in the corner.
After a moment of hesitation, she laid her gown on the bed and quickly stacked some logs in the hearth. Then she grasped the small tinderbox on the mantle. However, upon opening it, Madeline was lost.
How did one use such a device? In her father’s house, it had been the servants’ duty to light the fire in the hearths. Never had Madeline even seen them do it. Had she simply never paid attention? Or was this one of the many duties servants were expected to perform like ghosts in the night? Invisible to their masters?
Whatever the reason, Madeline had never seen the small items she found in the tinderbox. Dimly, she recalled that two things had to be struck together to raise a spark. As the only two things that could be struck together were a hand-sized piece of metal as well as a quartz-like rock, Madeline set aside the tinderbox and knelt in front of the fireplace, determined not to allow this simple task to stand in her way.
Taking a deep breath, she struck the two pieces together.
Nothing happened.
Except for a dull pain in her right arm.
Feeling her spirits sink, she tried again and was rewarded with a tiny spark. However, upon coming to life, it immediately died, and the logs in the fireplace remained untouched and cold.
Again, and again, Madeline tried, and again and again, she failed.
Once more, anger and disappointment surged to the surface, even more consuming after the triumph she had felt only moments earlier. After all she had learnt and accomplished in the last day, would this simple task once more bring her to her knees?
As Madeline realised that she was indeed kneeling in front of the fireplace, her frustration peaked, and she hurled the two pieces into the fireplace. Anger tore a growl from her throat as tears streamed down her face, replacing the fresh rain that had felt so good, so liberating.
Still shivering, Madeline pushed herself to her feet, then spun on her heel and strode toward the door that separated her room from her husband’s. Without thinking about what she hoped to accomplish, she yanked it open and burst into her husband’s bedchamber.
Instantly, a glowing warmth enveloped her, and Madeline’s gaze swung around to the hearth where her husband stood in front of a blazing fire in nothing but his breeches, a shirt forgotten in his hand as he stared at her. “Is something wrong?” he finally asked when she remained quiet.
Blinking, Madeline swallowed as she felt a touch of hysteria well up in her veins. “Wrong?” she snapped, noting the touch of disappointment that came to her husband’s dark eyes but unable to tamper her own anger. “Why did you leave me alone? Why didn’t you come to help me?”
A frown drew down his brows as he came toward her. “What do you mean?”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Madeline gestured at the fire. “Do you truly not know?”
After glancing over his shoulder, her husband shook his head, his eyes closing briefly as though he could not believe his own mistake. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, coming toward her. “I should have−”
“Yes, you should have,” Madeline stated, brushing a wet curl from her forehead. “I’ve never made a fire in my life. I wouldn’t know how to begin.” With each word she spoke, her throat began to close as tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re my husband. You take care of everyone. But not me.” Swallowing, she shook her head. “Not me. Why?”
As he held her gaze, a touch of guilt came to his own, his dark eyes clouded by regret. “I should have. I know that,” he said, grasping for words. “I cannot say why I did not. Although I know that this is not a life you’re accustomed to, I never think of you as someone in need of help.” Shrugging his shoulders in apology, he sighed. “You always seem so strong and competent that I…I forgot.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, his gaze held hers before it drifted lower to her wet dress. “You need to change.” The ghost of a smile curled up his lips, and a teasing note came to his voice. “Your dress is dripping all over my floor.”
For a moment, Madeline was tempted to return his smile, to accept the teasing banter that always seemed to smooth over their anger whenever it arose out of the differences that still existed between them. For a moment, she was truly tempted, for it would have been the easier way.
But Madeline could not.
The smile would not come. Instead, an unfamiliar calm spread through her being as she realised that a moment of truth was on the horizon. And as much as Madeline feared it, she could not turn away.
When she did not respond, her husband stepped toward her, his face now serious as he gestured to her wet dress. “You need to change, Madeline, or you will catch cold. Let me escort you back to your room. I’ll light a fire and−”
“Do you have any idea,” Madeline interrupted, bitterness lacing her words, “what it feels like to be rejected by your own husband?”
He froze in mid-step, his mouth slightly open as he stared at her.
“If you didn’t want me,” Madeline forced out, willing away the tears that lingered in the corners of her eyes, “then why did you marry me? You told me it was not for my dowry, and I don’t know why but I believe you.” She shrugged, shaking her head. “Then why? You had to have had a reason. Tell me. Please.”
Something changed in her husband in that moment. His body tensed as though he forced a tight control on emotions that threatened to burst forth. Was he angry with her? Although his shoulders were drawn up, the muscles in his neck taut as his right hand curled around the shirt he was still holding, his gaze held hers with a smouldering intensity that spoke not of anger but rather of−
“I never said that I did not want you,” he growled, measured steps−slow and oddly menacing−carrying him closer as his gaze held hers, watching her. When he came to stand in front of her, he exhaled slowly, his teeth gritting together painfully, before a tiny spark ignited deep within him, sending him into motion.
Puzzled by his reaction at first, Madeline now found her body warming under his gaze and her skin tingle with anticipation. There was something in the way he looked at her that spoke of a struggle, one she could not understand. And yet, there was something else in his gaze as well, something lurking underneath the surface of his guarded exterior, something that promised passion and−
As her eyes travelled to his chiselled chest, marred by scars, and yet, radiating warmth and safety, his paralysis exploded, propelling him toward her.
Tossing the shirt aside, her husband reached for her, his arms coming around her lightning-quick.
Madeline gasped as she found herself pulled against him, his warmth engulfing her like a wildfire, scorching her skin even through the layers of wet clothing. Before she could form a conscious thought, his left hand slid up the slope of her neck, cupping the side of her face and tipping her head back. Staring up into his eyes, Madeline had barely enough time to fill her lungs with air before his mouth claimed hers.
Although they had kissed before this was different.
Swept off her feet, Madeline could barely tell up from down. All she knew was where his body touched hers, holding her ever closer as though he could not bear even the smallest distance between them. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling his skin, warm and smooth, here and there lined with thin scars, the story of his battles. And yet, it seemed that the battle that had waged within him had been the one consuming him whole.
There was something urgent and desperate in the way he kissed her as though he had denied himself the pleasure for too long. Had he? Madeline wondered dimly as his hand slid further back, cupping the back of her neck and holding her against him. His mouth opened, and he deepened the kiss, stealing her breath and turning her knees into pudding.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Madeline wondered why he had waited so long to kiss her when he had so obviously wanted to? And why had she never noticed? Was his mask so much better than hers? Or had she simply not dared to look closely enough, afraid of what she would find?
Returning his kiss with equal measure, Madeline could barely remember the cold that had held her in its clutches before. Now, her body seemed to burn with heat, eagerly straining against him, all her senses narrowing in on the pleasure of his touch.
And then he pulled away.
The moment his lips left hers, Madeline’s eyes flew open, a growl of displeasure stuck in her throat. But although he lifted his head, his gaze once more burning into hers, his arms never loosened their hold on her. He held her as possessively as before as though never intending to release her, and yet, there was a touch of indecision, of doubt in his eyes that Madeline could not understand.
He inhaled deeply, the muscles in his jaw tensing as before. “You need to get out of these clothes.” He spoke the words as he had earlier, and still, Madeline knew there was a deeper meaning to them the moment she felt his right hand tug on the laces of her dress.
Her gaze widened slightly as she understood his underlying question, and a shiver went through her at the thought of sharing his bed. However, Madeline could not deny that she was no longer the woman she had been on her wedding night. Then, she had seen it as her duty. Now, it was something else.
Something much more pleasurable.
Desirable.
Utterly tempting.
Seeing the tension on her husband’s face as he waited for her answer, Madeline acted on impulse. Pushing herself up on the tips of her toes, she planted her lips on his.
Taken aback, he hesitated for a moment. However, it vanished in the blink of an eye.
Returning her kiss with the same eagerness as before, he held her close, his hands roaming over her back, undoing the laces that held her dress closed one by one. As they fell away, the wet fabric remaining plastered to her skin, keeping the dress from sliding to the floor, Madeline felt his hands move to her shoulders.
Slowly, his fingers slipped underneath the fabric, brushing over her bare skin, sending goosebumps up and down her body. Then he gently moved the dress down, baring the skin to the chilled night air.
Madeline sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze fixed on his as her dress slowly slid down her body, finally pooling around her feet. With only her chemise to clothe her, Madeline felt utterly exposed…in more ways than one. Although her gaze held his, she could not bear to look at him. They had crossed the threshold into physical intimacy, and yet, secrets remained, hidden deep inside. On some level, they were still strangers, and Madeline could not think of a way to come full circle.
Afraid he felt it too, afraid he might pull away again, she once more reached up to kiss him.
As before he answered her plea eagerly, his body shifting as he swept her into his arms and carried her the few steps to the bed.
In the hearth, the fire crackled, sending its warmth across the room. However, Madeline had no need for a fire any longer as the heat that burned between them warmed her chilled skin in the most delicious way.