Page 14 of Raked Away in September

As the carriage jolted over the cobblestones, Rowan seemed to realize that she was having misgivings. He reached out and took her hand, tracing the lovely sapphire ring he’d placed on her finger. She hadn’t really looked at it before, but it was gorgeous.

“Neither of us was expecting this,” he said quietly. “But I like you, Tamsin. And I am wildly attracted to you as well. I wouldn’t have gone through with this if I didn’t think that we could make a go of it. I hope you feel the same.”

Tamsin looked at him, at this man who was suddenly the most important person in her life, and forced the panic down. They may have rushed into this marriage, but she had no choice but to try to make it work.

“I like you, too,” Tamsin said, her voice growing stronger, “and I am looking forward to getting to know you better.” Heat rose in her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze, unable to look at him as she said the next part. “I think you’re very handsome, Rowan. I always have.”

Silence fell between them for long enough that she finally lifted her gaze. When she did, Rowan smiled, that genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat. Her confession had obviously pleased him.

He gestured out the window as the carriage pulled to a stop. “We’re home, Lady Haversham. Shall we go inside?”

Chapter Eight

Usually, the sight of his own front door brought Rowan a sense of relief. It meant that he could finally be himself and retreat into the solitary comfort of his library. But as he stepped out of the carriage and offered his hand to his new bride, he found himself anxious that she would not like her new home nor find it as peaceful as he did.

When he’d inherited the title seven years ago, he’d had Haversham House redecorated to suit his own tastes, and he knew it was a bit dark and masculine. There was certainly none of the overdone ornamentation that was currently the rage. He preferred his surroundings to be uncluttered, with clean lines.

Rowan had never brought a woman here. Not even to visit. He’d never wanted anyone else in his private sanctuary. But he found that he didn’t mind sharing it with Tamsin.

The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow as he led her up the front steps. Stephens opened the door, his face a mask of professional welcome, but as Tamsin and he stepped into the entrance hall, Rowan could feel the curiosity of the entire domestic staff vibrating in the air. They were as surprised by his sudden marriage as he was.

“Welcome home, my lady,” Rowan said, his anxiety growing by the minute.

“Thank you, Rowan,” Tamsin replied softly. She looked around the foyer, her blue eyes taking in the dark paneling and the stark, masculine lines of the furniture. She looked so small in the vast, echoing space, a splash of cream silk against the dark, muted colors.

An unbearable awkwardness settled over him. Rowan, who could charm an opera singer in three languages and navigate the most treacherous card rooms in London, found himself standing in his own foyer, not knowing where to put his hands. How did one cohabitate with a virtual stranger? His inexperience with such matters overwhelmed him.

“I... I suppose you would like to see the rest of the house,” he said, clearing his throat. “It is a bit somber, I realize. I haven’t had much cause for feminine touches.”

“It’s a fine house, Rowan,” she said, her voice steadying him. “It suits you. And I’d love a tour, but perhaps a bit later? For now, I think I’d just like to retire to my room for a while.”

“Yes. Of course.” He gestured toward the staircase, a bit relieved that he’d soon have a few minutes to himself.

As they ascended, the silence between them grew heavy with the one subject Rowan knew he had to broach yet found himself utterly unable to articulate. He had spent his life pursuing pleasure with a singular focus, but the thought of using the same approach on Tamsin— his wife—made him feel crude. He did not want to insult her. The one thing he did know was that he must tread carefully.

“Your rooms are in the west wing,” he said as they reached the landing. After what seemed an interminable walk down the hall, he paused at the door to the countess’s bedchamber, the one room in the house with feminine décor. He’d known he’d one day have use of it, but he’d never really imagined the sort of woman who’d occupy it. He’d let the decorator pick all the furnishings. He hoped Tamsin liked it. “Here we are. Your rooms… ah... they adjoin mine. Through the dressing room.”

She stopped, her gaze fixed on the heavy oak door. Rowan could see the slight tension in her neck, the way she was holding her breath.

“I see,” she murmured.

“Tamsin,” he started, then stopped. He wanted to tell her she was safe. He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t dream of forcing a connection she wasn’t ready for. But he also remembered the heat of their kiss the day he’d proposed, and a traitorous part of him wondered if she was waiting for him to speak of it. “About this evening... I realize the day has been long. And the circumstances... they haven’t exactly been traditional.”

She turned to him, her crystalline-blue eyes searching his. “No, they haven’t.”

“I don’t wish to—that is to say, I would not have you think that just because we’re wed, I expect...” He trailed off, feeling like an awkward schoolboy. “I would never force something on you that you didn’t want.”

Tamsin stepped closer, the scent of lavender drifting from her skirts. “Rowan, are you trying to tell me that you are as nervous about our wedding night as I am?”

Rowan let out a short, self-deprecating laugh, the tension breaking just a fraction. “I believe I am far more nervous than you are, Tamsin. I have the reputation of a terrifying rake to uphold, but I have absolutely no experience with being a husband.”

A small, genuine smile touched her lips, the first one he had seen since they left the church. “Perhaps we could just start with dinner? We can talk more about what we each expect then.”

“Dinner,” Rowan agreed, feeling a profound sense of reprieve. That would give him a few hours to get his head on straight. “Dinner is an excellent idea. I shall leave you to settle in, and I will meet you downstairs at seven.”

As he walked away toward his own rooms, he felt her gaze on his back.

He had survived the wedding and the scandal, but as he closed his door and leaned against it, Rowan realized the real challenge was just beginning. He didn’t just want her in his house; he wanted to deserve her being there. And that was a far more daunting prospect than any duel he had ever faced.