Perhaps he should try a different approach with Brynn: wooing her.
It would be difficult to win her over. She would likely spurn his advances after the way he’d acted, especially given her staunch belief in the Gypsy’s curse. Certainly he wouldn’t change her convictions overnight, yet he could take small steps that wouldn’t arouse her alarm or provoke her to tears…
The vivid image of Brynn crying in his arms yesterday made Lucian wince. He wanted very much to dispel her fear that she was a witch. He wanted still more to end the coldness between them, to repair the tattered fabric of their relationship, perhaps establish a bond of trust. It was even possible they could have a marriage with mutual affection, if not love…
Tilting his head back, Lucian drained the last of his brandy, not certain if embarking on a new course with Brynn was at all wise. Yet for the first time in the weeks of his contentious relationship with her, he felt a sense of eager anticipation.
It startled Brynn when her husband joined her in the breakfast room the following morning. Usually Lucian had left for the day by the time she rose.
She stared when he greeted her amiably, her cup of chocolate raised halfway to her lips. While she watched, Lucian filled a plate from the sideboard, accepted coffee from the hovering footman, and then dismissed the servant. He gave Brynn a brief smile before settling back in his seat and opening one of the morning papers that she wasn’t reading.
She found herself at a total loss.
He’d arrived home late last night, she knew, for she’d lain in her lonely bed tossing and turning, listening for him. But he hadn’t visited her bed. Most likely it was because he had found other pleasures to occupy him. Absurdly it hurt to think of Lucian in the arms of another woman-
Forcing those foolish thoughts away, Brynn made herself chew her suddenly dry toast and concentrate on the editorial before her.
Silence reigned for a time. Eventually Lucian closed his paper and applied himself to his breakfast. Brynn nearly jumped when he addressed her moments later.
“You aren’t wearing a riding habit. You don’t mean to ride this morning? ”
He knew of her customary early morning rides in the park with Raven, Brynn supposed, but she was surprised he had noticed her attire.
“No,” she answered carefully.
“Why not?”
She gave him a wary glance. “I never plan to go out again.”
“Why?”
“Because it is safer.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Isn’t that a rather drastic measure?”
She tried to flash an arch smile but feared it merely came out bitter. “You were the one who insisted I keep away from the young bucks ‘panting after my skirts.” The only way I know how to accomplish that is to avoid them entirely.“
“I expect you’ll find such confinement restrictive,” he said finally.
“Certainly I will. It is lonely having to do without company, but I am accustomed to it. And remaining quietly at home here is better than being forced to rusticate at your country estate, where I know absolutely no one.”
She felt his light gaze examining her face. “You needn’t do without company entirely. Do you enjoy Shakespeare?”
Brynn eyed him warily. “Yes, why?”
“I thought we might attend the theater this evening.”
“We?”
A smile flickered at his mouth. “I should like to escort you, if you will allow me.”
“Why?”
“I hoped you might accept it as an olive branch.”
She considered that for a moment. “I can’t imagine why you would want to offer an olive branch.”
“Because I don’t enjoy this constant state of antagonism between us, Brynn. I would like it to end. We cannot spend a lifetime like this, fighting each other.”
She didn’t enjoy their antagonism, either, or the explosive results. The memory of their rash, brazen lovemaking in the carriage still haunted her. But keeping discord between them was the safest thing for Lucian.
“I never wanted our marriage to become a battleground,” he said when she was silent, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I regret that more than you know.”
Brynn caught her breath, unable to look away from the unwavering intensity of his gaze. She wished his eyes were less compelling and not quite so blue.
His voice lowered even further. “I know I haven’t been the most ideal husband, Brynn. I would like to try to make it up to you.”
She couldn’t answer, not with the sudden tightness of her throat.
Finally he gave a soft sigh. “Whatever our private disputes, I would prefer to present a more amiable image in public. It will help quiet the scandal for us to be seen together and pretend to enjoy each other’s company.”
“Yes… I suppose that would help.”
He rose then and came around to her side of the table. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “Until this evening, then.”
Brynn shivered, feeling the tingle of his hot mouth all the way down her arm to her loins.
She stared after Lucian long after he was gone. Finally she felt her breath escape in a sigh. She had her own regrets about their relationship; she yearned for an end to hostilities as Lucian claimed he did. Yet she didn’t dare lower her defenses.
It worried her, this contrite, gentle side of him. If he were to begin treating her with tenderness and consideration, he would be impossible to resist.
Brynn shook her head, desperately fighting the emotions he unleashed in her. How had her feelings for Lucian become so complicated? Their relationship would be so much safer if she could simply hate him. But she feared that was well beyond her power. It wasn’t hate Lucian woke in her, but hungry longing.
As they entered their box at the Drury Lane Theatre, Lord and Lady Wycliff were the focus of all eyes. A sense of excitement claimed Brynn as Lucian took his seat beside her. It was a treat for her to attend a performance of skilled actors. The country troupes that toured southern Cornwall were the dregs of their profession, so watching actual masters was sure to be a delight.
But it was Lucian himself who caused the involuntary lightness of her spirits. He had dined at home with her, playing the role of solicitous husband-a performance, she knew. Yet he acted as if he were truly enjoying her company instead of fighting his attraction to her. Clearly he was making an effort to begin anew.
The change in him was profoundly appealing- and unquestionably dangerous. In return, Brynn did her best to maintain a cool demeanor and subdue her own appeal. She wore her fiery hair sedately tamed, while her ivory slip with its overskirt of silver tissue was modestly cut for an evening gown. Yet she could tell by the sudden darkening of Lucian’s blue eyes that he admired the effect.
He continued his exhibition of amiability when they reached the theater. The moment Lucian was settled beside her, he took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips to kiss, gazing deeply into her eyes, just as if he were in love. His amorous gesture was for the benefit of the audience, Brynn presumed, but the sheer intimacy of it made her soften inside…
Abruptly she scolded herself for her susceptibility; Lucian well knew the power of his sensuality, and she would be wise to keep up her guard.
They were barely seated when visitors started arriving at their box, wanting to be introduced to his lordship’s new lady. Lucian showed all the heart-melting charm and rakish wit that had so fascinated her when they’d first met, as well as a possessiveness that was as curiously gratifying as it was disturbing. He remained so close she could feel his body heat, his arm lightly draping her shoulder, as if staking his claim on her. And when they were left alone once more for the start of the play, he kept hold of her hand.
Despite her resolve to keep him at a distance, to protect him with her indifference, Brynn found herself loath to pull away; his touch felt so right. All through the first act, her nerves were alive and acutely tuned to him.