Being a good “Husband”

Julia

I watch as he strides to my dressing table, shrugging out of his jacket as he goes and tossing it onto a nearby chair. With his jacket gone, I can see clearly that during his few months away, his shoulders have broadened and his skin has become bronzed by the harsh southern sun. I am taken aback that at a time such as this, I should feel such a magnetic pull toward him. How selfish I had been earlier to want his attention when he is giving me far more now than I had expected. I want things between us to be as though he had never left, but I realize that the usual ease we experience with each other might be slow in coming. However, I have to believe it will return.

He sits on the edge of the mattress and skillfully uses the hook to loosen the buttons on one shoe and then the other. Setting the hook aside, he gently tugs off my left shoe. I grimace with the discomfort, then sigh with relief as my toes are free to wiggle about.

“My God," He says.

“I know. They’re hideously swollen. I fear my ankles look as though they belong to an elephant."

“You should have said something sooner," He chastises, slowly easing my other foot out of the shoe.

“Don’t be cross."

“I’m not cross,” He says, refusing to take his gaze from the trunks that are my ankles. “I’m worried about you, Julia."

“The swelling is to be expected. I don’t think I’m in any danger of losing the baby.”

He nods toward the side, “Pass me one of the pillows you’re not using.”

With extreme tenderness, he places it beneath my feet. “Need to get a bit of blood flowing, I think,” He says.

He places both hands around my ankle, and slides them up beneath my skirt and over my knee until he reaches the tie of my stocking. My breath catches and is held as I wait. Having his fingers so near the apex of my womanhood is sweet torture. He slowly loosens the ribbons, then even more slowly rolls the silk down past my toes and sets it aside. His hands journey up my other leg, and I nearly melt on the spot. It is ridiculous how desperately I want his hands on me. When the other stocking is cast aside, he returns his attention to my first leg and begins kneading my calf. His hand glides up to the back of my knee, his fingers massaging there for a moment before beginning the journey back toward my ankle. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“It feels lovely.” The skin on his palms and fingers feels coarser, not as smooth as it had been before his journey. I imagine he has gone a good deal of the time without gloves. If he had worn them, his hands wouldn’t be so tanned now. “I may find myself grateful for the swelling. You’ve never rubbed my feet before.”

He stills a fraction of a heartbeat before continuing the fluid, soothing motions, offering me an apologetic smile. “What a cad I am.”

I laugh lightly at his teasing. I have missed it. Missed this. Simply being with him, no expectations, no burdens. “You also never used profanity in my presence.”

“It seems Nick’s bad habits became mine during our travels.”

“You must have seen some amazing sights.”

Moving his hands to my other ankle he nods, “We did.”

“I wish I could have journeyed with you.”

“You wouldn’t have much liked it when Nick broke an egg into your shoe and insisted you walk about with the muck in there.”

“Are you joking?"

He lifts his eyes to mine, and for the first time I see no sadness, and I am filled with the hope that perhaps the mourning will not last the remainder of his life, “Prevents blisters.”

“How did he know that?”

He shrugs, “Read it somewhere. He was always reading, trying to ensure our journeys were as comfortable as possible.”

“You had a good time when you were with him.”

“I did. It was the best … until it wasn't.”

I want to give him a bit of cheer during this dark time. “I thought we might name our son after him.”

His gaze goes to my belly, then he looks away. “No. We’ll not name the Greystorm heir after such a selfish bastard. He’s to be named after his father, as he should be.”

I don’t know what to say to his harsh words regarding Nick. He has never shown any anger toward his brother.

Not when Nick stumbled into our residence three sheets in the wind. Not when he held out a hand for more money because he had frittered away his allowance. Not when large men knocked at our door because he had amassed large gambling debts. Noah indulged his brother and seemed to think his irresponsible lifestyle was harmless enough.

He had never had a bad word for Nick. Until now. It is so unlike him.

I can sense him withdrawing into himself. I don’t want to lose him, not again. As he continues massaging, his hands periodically disappearing beneath my skirt, a little bit of naughtiness takes hold of me. “You are my husband. It is perfectly acceptable for you to lift my skirt over my knees.”

“I don’t need the temptation.”

As inappropriate as it is during this time of mourning, I can’t help but feel a little thrill. “Are you tempted?”

“A man is always tempted when a lady reveals her ankles.”

“Then I’m nothing special.”

His hands stop and his eyes capture mine, “I did not mean that. Other ladies no longer tempt me.”

I smile softly, “I know. I was merely teasing, striving to make you laugh, to relieve your burden for a bit.”

“Eventually, we will laugh again. Just not today." He pats my ankles and stands. “I should let the others know we won’t be joining them for dinner.”

“My feet aren’t as swollen. If I sit with them resting on a little stool …".

“No, it’ll be better if we dine alone. I won’t be long.”

He snatches up his jacket before leaving my room. With a sigh, I sit back farther into the pillows and wiggle my toes. If we dine alone. His wording did not escape me. Now that Nick is laid to rest, perhaps my husband will finally return to me.

Nick

SHE has the tiniest toes. Even with her feet and ankles swollen, it is obvious that her toes are small and delicate.

Why the bloody hell should I find them so intriguing?

As I stride into the library, I am grateful to find no one is yet waiting on me. I cross to the side table, pour myself an unhealthy amount of scotch, and toss it back. I have to take care with my words, and I have to ensure I give her no cause to doubt her mate's devotion to her. I can’t mention other ladies’ ankles or thighs or lovely attributes. I cannot indicate that I remain a man who finds other women attractive. Although at this moment I can’t think of a single woman other than Julia who appeals to me. Still, I need to tamp down all natural urges, in order not to find myself taking advantage of this situation. I quickly drink another tumbler of scotch.

Even the urge to drink to excess has to be curbed. I can get by with it for a couple of days, chalking it up to grief, but I doubt Julia has ever seen Noah deep into his cups. And if I get drunk, I could very well make a ghastly mistake and reveal who I am. Although it is likely that can happen if I am sober.

I wander to the desk and graze my finger over the shiny ebony box. I had noticed it earlier but assumed it always sat on my brother’s desk. In the past, I had often visited my brother at the estate, but never really lived within the residence, especially after Noah married Julia. The manor had been closed up when our parents died, so when

Noah reached his majority, he had come to the pack house, hired new staff, and opened the place back up. I know a few by name, but most I couldn’t have cared less about. Knowing Noah, he had probably known them all. God, I have stepped into a quagmire. I am going to have to tread very carefully.

I return to the table, reach for the decanter, pause with my fingers wrapped around the delicate crystal …

With a harsh curse, I pick it up and sling it against the wall, taking no satisfaction when it shatters into shards and sends amber liquid raining down along the dark paneling.

“Not so easy being your brother?”

With another harsh curse, I spin around to face Zac, grateful it isn’t Tom standing there with his wife.

I almost blurt out that Julia has tiny toes, as though Zac would give a fig, “She’s exhausted; we won’t be joining you for dinner.”

“You’re afraid we’ll slip up.”

I plow my hand through my hair, “More afraid I will.”

“Tug on your ear,” Zac says as he casually strolls nearer. “When you reach for your hair, tug on your ear.”

"Right," I do so now, knowing it is too late. Noah tugged before he spoke, not after.

Zac plants his hip on the edge of the desk, “I suspect she’s stronger than you give her credit for”.

But she has the tiniest, most delicate toes. And such silken skin. Whatever had I been thinking of skimming his fingers over her calves, across the backs of her knees? “Can’t risk it. The babe is all that remains of my brother."

I can’t explain the hole that now resides within me, the place where Noah had been. I need this child to survive as much as Noah had wished that it would.

“I was a baby when my mother died,” Zac says quietly. “I grew up with a father who perpetually mourned her loss. Nothing replaces such a loss.”

“I’m not expecting the child to be a substitute, but I owe Noah this small sacrifice. My mind’s made up, and while you’re very skilled at laying out your arguments, on this matter, nothing will sway me.”

Zac glances over at the mess left by the hurled decanter, “You might want to reel back your temper a notch.”

I chuckle harshly, “More than a notch, I’d say," Noah never displayed a temper.

Hearing footsteps, I glance toward the doorway in time to see the Alpha and his Luna enter. Zac is halfway correct about my reasons for not joining them for dinner. I fear the Luna will figure him out. She is too sharp by half.

“The affairs of the past few days have worn Julia out,” I tell them. “She and I will not be joining you for dinner.”

“I assume she’ll have a tray in her bedchamber," The Luna says. “Perhaps it would be best if I joined her there, giving you gents a little more time to catch up.”

I tug on my ear, “I appreciate the offer, but I think we’ve caught up all that we need to. I left my wife alone for far too many weeks. I intend to make that up to her now. We’ll see you at breakfast."

I catch a spark of approval in Tom’s eyes; not that I am seeking approval, but apparently, I have managed to conduct myself more as my brother might. Now if I could just do the same without stumbling through the maze that had been Noah’s life with his Luna.