Read Online The Hourglass by Bárbara Metzger - Free Book Online

for the hearth?”
    She was already too warm, just stepping into his room with its blazing fire. He was wearing a thick robe and fur-lined slippers, despite the warm night air.
    “Everything is fine. The room is lovely. The dinner was delicious.”
    “Then…?”
    She had no answer. Was he caper-witted as well as crazy? This was their wedding night and she was wearing a nearly transparent robe over her equally gossamer nightgown. Her hair was loose around her shoulders instead of in a neat plait, and she smelled of some exotic perfume Marie had produced. What did he think she was doing at his door? She licked her lips, thinking that moisture might make the words easier to pronounce, but he spoke first.
    “I suppose you cannot sleep, either. Here, let me—” He reached over to touch her neck, the way she had seen him touch the severely injured soldiers, lulling them to a pain-free sleep.
    She jumped back. “No, thank you. Whatever it is you do, I would rather not know. That is, I would rather you didn’t.” She need not have pinched her cheeks, Genie realized. They must be scarlet by now. “I mean, I am not tired at all after resting in the carriage.”
    “Ah.”
    “Ah” was as helpful as a cup of hemlock. “I thought we might—”
    “Talk? Quite right.” He led her to a chair in front of the fireplace, then leaned against the mantel. “We should speak of where you’d like to live, if you have an older woman you would like to invite to live with you as companion, how much—what do you call it?—pin money you will need. We were in such a rush I never thought to ask.”
    “Whatever you decide will be fine. I have no great needs, nor any female in mind. Perhaps one of your relatives?”
    “I doubt you’d care to dig up any of them.”
    “Dirty dishes, are they? We have a few scoundrels and squirrels on the Hopewell family tree that we never mention, either. I suppose I am one of them.”
    “Scoundrel or squirrel?”
    “Just unmentionable.”
    He smiled. “That will change. We are invited to the prime minister’s house. People will speak of you, but only with admiration.”
    Genie doubted that, after her second scandalous marriage. “Thank you, but that is not what I came for.”
    “You want to speak of finances?”
    “I do not want to speak at all.” She was growing so warm in the overheated room, so near to the fire, that she started to undo the top button at the closure of her robe. While she was doing it, she decided to continue down the row of buttons. Perhaps he would get the idea then.
    His nearly black eyes followed her fingers the way a castaway’s eyes followed a ship on the horizon, his last hope sailing away without him. Ardeth cursed. He knew why she’d come, of course. If the martyred look on her guileless face did not tell the tale, her clumsy fingers fumbling with the buttons did. Like a nervous virgin, she had come to offer the only commodity she had. And if he took it, he’d be lost forever. He cursed again in several obsolete languages. Foul words were not going to solve his immediate problem, however.
    He reached out to still her hand, wondering if he ought to send her to dreamless sleep after all. As wary as a fawn, she pulled back.
    “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.”
    “You do things to people, influence them. Sway them to your opinion. I have seen you do it, at the dinners, today at the reception. Other times you know what they are thinking, what they need.” She had hoped this would be one of those times. Sadly, it seemed not to be, and she ought to be glad. “I do not know how you do it, but please do not. I have given my hand to you, not my thoughts.”
    He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the gold ring on her finger. She felt warm, vibrant, achingly woman. “You have given enough.”
    He was trying to tell her she did not need to continue, but the female was as stubborn as a mule.
    “We were wed this morning.”
    One dark eyebrow rose.