The Irish Earl by Patricia Bray

Author:Patricia Bray
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626816169
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

Ten

The next morning, the sun sparkled off the rain-soaked fields as they left the town of Drisheen. True to his promise, Kilgarvan put aside his pride and bitterness over the marriage settlement, and tried to begin afresh with his wife, as if they were strangers who had met for the first time the day before. For her part, Felicity seemed more than willing to put aside her own hurt feelings.

Each mile they traveled brought him closer to his home. From time to time he would point out scenic views, or share bits of local legend. Felicity listened intently, and occasionally shared stories of her past and journeys she had made. At other times they would travel in companionable silence, secure enough not to feel the need to fill the air with idle chatter. And somehow he found himself telling her more than he had intended, sharing his plans and dreams for the future.

Each night they stayed at an inn, or availed themselves of the hospitality of the local gentry. He was not surprised to find that word of his marriage had gone on ahead of him, and those of his acquaintance were quick to congratulate him on his good fortune.

By unspoken consent there were only two subjects that Felicity and Kilgarvan did not broach. The first was the subject of the marriage settlement. The second was the fact that despite being married for nearly a month, they were still husband and wife in name only—a fact that grew more and more irksome to him, and more awkward to explain, as their hostesses appeared surprised by his request for separate bedrooms.

Not that he did not desire his wife. On the contrary, each day he was with her it grew harder and harder for him to control his wayward thoughts. It had been easier to ignore her when she was Lady Felicity of London, all polished elegance and cool perfection. Then he’d admired her beauty dispassionately, as one might admire a porcelain statue.

The woman he traveled with was a different matter. This Felicity was warm, human, and with her wind-tousled hair and sun-kissed complexion she was infinitely more desirable than any London beauty. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and he found himself telling the most outrageous of stories for the simple joy of hearing her laughter.

At night, when he lay awake, unable to sleep, he reminded himself of the reasons why he had not consummated their marriage on that first night. But his logic, once compelling, now seemed the arguments of a fool or a craven. He had grown to know Felicity, and while he still did not understand all the reasons why she had proposed marriage, he did not doubt her essential honor and truthfulness. If Felicity had found herself with child, she would have taken responsibility, and not tried to trick a man into marriage.

And his other reason—wishing to wait until time had passed, lest Felicity become pregnant at once—seemed silly. It was unlikely that Felicity would become pregnant

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