She woke from her fitful sleep, forgetting for a moment where she was. She lay half awake, half asleep, unable to pinpoint what had disturbed her. The bed was strange, not her own familiar little one with its cheery yellow curtains.
Behind the massive oak-paneled door that joined her chamber with Simon's, she heard the faint sounds of groaning. Instantly she came fully awake. She heard nothing more. Could it have been her imagination? What if Simon needed her? She stared at the door. Unable to deny her worries, she slipped quietly to the door, careful not to use a candle lest the light disturb Simon. As the door silently opened into the other room, she heard no more groans.
Still, a nagging worry made her creep into the room, until she was at the foot of the bed. He lay there, his even breathing a testament to his current well-being. Miranda felt a knot of fear ease and she turned to go.
Just then, Simon groaned again softly. Miranda halted. He had said nothing to her of pain, but surely there must be some?
Through the dim moonlight, she could see that he was restless as he slept, his bedcovers were twisted and pulled askew. Her heart went out to him. Even in his sleep he could not be at peace, his illness still touched him.
The need to soothe him was too strong to resist. Cautiously, she approached the bed. Simon's face was in the shadows. The moonlight illuminated only a cheek and a wing of his golden hair, giving him a magical, illusive air. She reached out to touch his face and reassure herself that he was real, and without warning, found herself staring into his alert gaze.
His voice was soft. "Have you come to tell me a bedtime tale? What one have you chosen? Goldilocks and the three bears? The child who's so bold as to go wherever she will?"
"There is no need for you to be sarcastic. I have every right to worry for your health. I am your wife."
"I have not forgotten our marriage." He was silent for a moment, staring into her eyes as if he could not look away. And then he sighed and turned his back to her. "I am well enough, just bedeviled."
"Is the pain so awful?" Miranda bit her lip, afraid to hear the answer. Simon coughed. If the subject had not been so serious, she might have thought that he was hiding amusement. No, it was a trick of the night.
His voice was gruff and rasped out at her. "Almost unbearable right at this moment. But I am sure it will ease if only I could know that you slept soundly."
"Perhaps if I remain here tonight?" The idea came to her unbidden and she was suddenly warm, even in the night chill. She smiled. "Didn't Goldilocks try out all the beds?" It was a pleasant thought, lying next to him, being held in his arms. Perhaps even —
"No. And, if you remember, Goldilocks ran screaming from the bed in terror."
The cold rejection hurt more than Miranda expected, although after the events in the stable, she had been forewarned. Still, she was reluctant to release her pleasant dream. "But I could — "
He turned back to face her and sat up slightly, so that his whole face was lit by moonlight. "Believe me, Miranda, you would cause me greater pain that way."
She found her gaze caught by the smooth bare shoulder the moon exposed with its silver light. "I should have realized that." She admired him for keeping the depths of his pain a secret from her. That having her next to him would hurt had never crossed her mind.
She laughed, as if to make light of her suggestion. "I suppose it is just that I feel so alone here. There are no sisters to slip into my room and ask for a drink of water or a story. I am not used to being so ... unnecessary."
He was silent for a long moment and she met his steady eyes. It made her shiver to see the same intensity that had been in the dowager's eyes only hours before. He said, "I have told you before, Miranda. I do not need a mother — not even the one I already have."
"I know, Simon. I don't want to be your mother. I want to be your wife."
He sighed. "Please, go to sleep now. I promise I shall introduce you to your new home properly tomorrow. Such an introduction will require you to be well rested. I can't have my servants thinking their new mistress is dull and foolish, can I?"
Miranda sighed in unconscious imitation of him, seeing the sense in his words and trying hard not to be too disappointed. "Very well. I shall see that your mother is gone in the morning."
"If you can dislodge that woman before she is ready to go, I really will begin to believe in happy endings."
She smiled. "Then you will believe in them very soon. I'll leave you to rest." Impulsively, she bent to kiss him. Her hands came down on his shoulders to brace herself for the light peck on the cheek she intended. But the feel of warm bare skin under her fingers send a shock of wanting coursing through her and she sought his lips instead.
He did not respond. Indeed, he remained still as stone as she pressed her lips to his. The sting of rejection left her feeling the cold night air and the flimsiness of her thin nightgown and robe. When she pulled back, she could not look at his face. "Good night."
His own "Good night" in answer to hers was terse.
She could not doubt that he wished her out of his room. For the first time, she began to wonder if he regretted their impulsive marriage and wished her out of his life, as well.