Page 103 of The Dangerous Lord

“That’s understandable. You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

No, I didn’t. She flushed. They’d had quite an evening. If he hadn’t sired an heir last night, it wasn’t for want of trying.

A hot flood of pleasant memories made her smile coyly at him. “You didn’t get much sleep either. Perhaps you should come back to bed.”

He laughed. “In the words of the immortal Lord X, ‘Man doth not live by bed alone.’ You must get up, querida. I hope to be off by one o’clock.”

She gazed up at him, her heart beating triple-time. “Why so early?”

“Don’t you want to spend a few hours with your brothers before the ball? And you’ll need time to dress.”

A relieved sigh escaped her lips. “So you’re not ... still going to visit that solicitor about the separation.”

He glanced away. “I’m afraid that’s no longer possible. Now that we’ve consummated the marriage, we can’t pursue the matter until we make sure you’re not pregnant. By then no judge with eyes will believe we haven’t had conjugal relations, even if you don’t prove to be pregnant.”

The tinge of regret in his tone made her tip up her chin and say stoutly, “Good.”

His gaze swung back to her. “We’ll see if you feel the same later.”

“What do you mean?”

“We need to talk. We should have talked about this last night before it was too late, but we were⁠—”

“I don’t regret last night.”

The brief flicker of satisfaction in his eyes told her he didn’t either, no matter what he said. “I only hope you can say the same after we talk. But we can do that in the carriage on the way to London.” He grabbed the edge of the covers tucked up under her chin. “Now get out of bed and get dressed, lazybones. Or I’ll dress you myself.”

With a taunting smile, he whisked back the covers, then froze. Apparently, he’d forgotten she hadn’t donned a nightgown last night. His gaze trailed hungrily over her naked body.

“Dress me?” she teased. “You’d never manage it.” She reached up and grabbed his cravat, then tugged him toward her.

He went willingly. “I suppose we could leave a little later,” he conceded as he lowered his head to nibble on her ear. “An hour perhaps will do no harm.”

“Or two. Or three.” She unbuttoned his waistcoat. “In the words of the immortal Lord X, passion must never be hurried.”

“You never said that.”

“I just did.” Then she muffled his laughter with her kiss.

Four hours later, they entered the St. Clair carriage. All plans for stopping by the Taylor home had been abandoned now that they were so late, since she didn’t wish to excite her brothers by showing up for only an hour or so, then flitting off to a ball. They weren’t expecting her until tomorrow anyway, so she and Ian would go to the St. Clair town house and dress.

Felicity sank back onto her seat, feeling warm, sated, and yes, loved. Ian had yet to say the words, but she felt his love in every caress, every look. She was sure he loved her. And one day she’d make him say the words. Just see if she didn’t.

This wouldn’t be the day, however. Judging from the grim set to his face as he took the seat across from her, he was intent upon his “talk,” and it didn’t look as if it would be pleasant for her either.

The carriage set off, and they traveled a mile or so in silence with her watching out the window and dreading the coming discussion. Nor did the day look promising for it. The sunlight that had shone so brightly while they made love had vanished behind a blanket of sullen clouds that threatened snow. A bleak, dreary day, to be sure.

Suddenly, Ian cleared his throat. “It’s time I told you everything.”

Her heart pounded as she turned her gaze to his. “About what?” But she knew and braced herself for the worst.

“My past. All that ‘truth’ you were so intent upon getting at a week ago.”

“Why now?” It dawned on her that she feared knowing the truth almost as much as she wanted it. His telling her might change them both irrevocably.

“You deserve to know. We can still end our marriage. A divorce, if you wish. I want you to know what kind of man you’ve married before you continue in this ... illusion that you love me.”

There was such pain in his countenance, it banished her reluctance to hear him. He needed to reveal the thorn in his heart, and she could endure it. “My love for you isn’t an illusion,” she said softly. “Nothing you say will change it.”