CHAPTER 4 — THE BED

She saw plainly the tension in his body as he stood with his back to her, and for a second, she feared he might turn around and leave the room. Perhaps he might change his mind about sharing a bed with her and spend yet another evening on the uncomfortable sofa in the living room. She frowned at the very thought of the sofa. She didn’t think the bed they were required to share was comfortable—it was nothing like her queen-sized bed in New York—but it was better than the sofa, and it was his bed, and tonight, it would become their bed.

It had surprised her to hear him enter the room late that evening. After the conversation they had outside, she had convinced him to take a bath, and had made her way up the stairs to give him a little privacy. It hadn’t crossed her mind that he would share a bed with her, even if the thought alone thrilled her strangely.

She watched him silently as he pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his form to her scrutiny once more. Perhaps he thought she was asleep, for the last time she had seen him shirtless, he had appeared as uncomfortable as she had been.

Her gaze traveled the length of his bare back with wonder. She had never seen a semi-nude man in the past, nor had she been so enthralled by one whose muscles seemed to be chiseled out of several hours of hard work. His body spoke of strength and a firmness that made her want to lean against him. She wondered what it would feel like to press her face against the firmness of his chest.

Her face caught fire at the thought of their bodies so close to each other—at the thought of having to perform her wifely duties to him. She unconsciously shifted to the other side of the bed, a lump forming in her throat as her eyes remained glued to his muscled back. Her own thoughts scared her. He had said nothing yet, but she couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t want to claim her as his wife. Would he be a gentleman about it? Perhaps he would force himself on her?

He stood still by the hearth, as if plagued by the same thoughts that had plagued her—was he as nervous as she was? It would be their first night together in the same room and on the same bed.

She sighed, shifting further against the wall as she tore her gaze off of him and turned to the side, her limbs aching from all the chores she had had to do that day. After giving all five children a bath—excluding Scarlet, who was adamant about not needing one—Lily could barely keep her eyelids apart as she drifted to a peaceful sleep.

***

It took a few seconds for Raymond to recognize who he was looking at, and another second to realize that his hand rested comfortably on her waist. She was so close to him with her face turned to him, that he could feel the warmth of her breath tickling his skin.

He watched her sleep in his arms, her rosy lips parted slightly to let out her soft snores. Her hand rested on his forearm, contrasting nicely with his tan skin. She was beautiful, but he attributed his attraction to her to the fact that he hadn’t shared a bed with a woman other than his wife.

His wife...

Wasn’t this blond head, who laid sleeping beside him, his wife? Everything happened so quickly that he hadn’t given himself the chance to weigh the consequences of his actions, one of which was the fact that every time he referred to his wife, he referred to Miss Austin, and not Rachel. It would also require him to act as a husband by not just providing and caring for Miss, but by loving her in ways that involved being intimate with her; the very thought of which caused him to pull away, putting space between their bodies.

What was he thinking when he slept in the same bed with her? It seemed like the right thing to do after she accused him of avoiding her. Her accusation hadn’t gone down well with him, and he didn’t wish for her to think he despised her. A husband was required to share a bed with his wife, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t. He groaned, pushing himself to a sitting position. He could never be a proper husband to her, not in the way a husband is meant to be. He could never fall in love with her; he wasn’t allowed to. Perhaps it was best to discuss it with her? He sighed, running a weary hand through his brown locks. She deserved to know the truth—she deserved to know he didn’t plan on being her husband. He wasn’t in need of a wife, but his children needed a mother, and it was for that purpose he had married her; he needed to put his children’s needs first. He would lay everything out before her, giving her the opportunity to decide whether she wanted to stay and help to care for his children. He would provide food and shelter for her.

Leaning down over her sleeping form, he patted her shoulder lightly. A soft moan escaped her lips as she stirred. He watched in rising anxiety as her eyelids parted and her confused gaze scanned her environment. When she turned to him, fear raced through his veins, nearly crippling him—she would never concede to staying in a loveless marriage! She would panic at his suggestion, pack her bags and head back to New York, abandoning him and his children to the icy hands of starvation.

He trembled slightly as she watched him, her beautiful blue eyes—as blue as the ocean—filled with questions. The brightness of her eyes made him want to stand there and drown in them. They spoke of hope—something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He hadn’t felt hopeful for anything since his wife’s eyelids pulled close, and her breath ceased forever.

Even now, as he stood over Lily, he was transported back to the night he had stood over Rachel, clinging to her cold, limp hands. Tired brown eyes stared back at him. They were eyes that haunted his dreams for many months—they were eyes that still haunted him.

He was a mess! He stood, saddled with the responsibility of caring for six children he could barely even look at. He couldn’t be in the same room as his children for over two hours, and he could barely care for them. While he knew he loved them, he knew he didn’t love them as much as a father was required to love his children. Perhaps his fear of losing Rachel had translated into a fear of losing his children. He had lost himself.

How could he love Miss Austin? He knew he couldn’t, and so much more than that, he knew he couldn’t let the truth be known to her. She would leave the second she knew she was being used.

“Good morning, Ray!” Lily smiled, pointing to the window that stood to his left. He turned briefly, noticing that the sun's rays were piercing through the clouds outside. “Do you mind if I call you that?” She struggled to a sitting position, causing the covers to slip down her body. His gaze shifted to her chest, where a button laid undone, leaving a small portion of her breast exposed.

He averted his gaze and straightened to his full height, heat spreading around his body and filling him with a sensation he didn’t dare acknowledge.

“It’s fine.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I need to go into town for some supplies for food and your vegetable garden.” When she didn’t respond immediately, he followed her eyes to his chest.

Completely embarrassed once more, he grabbed his discarded shirt from where it laid on the chair close to the fireplace and pulled it over his head. What was wrong with him?! He mentally scolded himself, realizing it was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that she was seeing him shirtless, after he had slept without his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, turning to the window, but not before he saw the redness of her face.

“Would you mind making a list of what you need?” He tucked his hand in his pocket and waited patiently for her response. She nodded, her eyes still glued to the sky outside.

He watched her for a while with her face turned towards the rising sun. Her blond hair almost seemed to glow, and he thought, as he stood there watching her, that she would make for a beautiful painting.

Stunned by his wandering thoughts, his fingers balled into a fist as he turned around sharply and began making his way out of the room.

It reminded him of the vow he had made two years ago, determined to keep it.