“You were busy getting married.”
He chuckled, knowing he was going to miss her if they met with success and would have no further reason to remain in each other’s lives. “Indeed, I was.”
“Our being marriedwouldallow me to move about more freely. Well thought out, Marcus. Well done.”
“You’re not disappointed it wasn’t an actual proposal of marriage?”
“Absolutely not.” She looked out the window at the darkness that had settled over the land.
Pity, as he found he was a tad disappointed.
Chapter 19
It was late that evening when they arrived in Aberdeen. They made their way to a hotel where Marcus secured a room for one Mr. and Mrs. Stanwick. He didn’t find it at all odd to refer to Esme as his wife. She was wearing gloves, so no one had been able to detect that she didn’t house a ring on her left hand. He would need to remedy that situation before the ball.
She’d brought a small trunk and he had a satchel that contained a change of clothes, so he would look his best when meeting with Victoria.
Within their chamber, Esme stood before the low flames on the hearth as though striving to warm herself. “You sounded quite natural introducing me as your wife.”
He tossed his coat onto a chair and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought I should begin practicing. I’ll need to be convincing at the ball.”
“How will you dispense with your wife when all this is over? Will we just announce that it was a farce?”
Dropping into the chair, he began tugging off his boots. “I don’t know that we’ll need to say anything. My association with the nobility will only happen if they’re in need of my sleuthing services, and my marital status is unlikely to ever come up. It’s not as though I’ll be socializing with them. Among the common folk who will be neighbors and acquaintances, no one will know that I ever claimed to have a wife. If it makes you uncomfortable to be associated so closely with me or you think it will compromise your position with the Home Office, come up with another way to get yourself entrenched in the midst of these people.”
“I’m certainly not ashamed to be seen with you, Marcus. And whatever assignment I’m given next will involve getting close to people who have no idea who I am. I simply want to ensure that our fake arrangement doesn’t cause trouble for you later on when you begin your search for a wife in earnest.”
“Marriage is not for me.”
Her brow deeply furrowed, she moved away from the fire. “For God’s sake, why not?”
Standing, he tugged off his shirt. “Are you going to tell me why it’s not for you?”
“Too many reasons to count.”
He wondered how many of those reasons might have taken hold because of words spoken by her mother. “Maybe I’ll feel differentlyregarding marriage in a few weeks, but not tonight. At the moment, I’m dead tired. Turn about and I’ll unfasten you.”
Her traveling frock was modest, keeping all of her skin except for her face and throat from view. Perhaps that was the reason that as the fabric parted to reveal what had been hidden, he pressed his mouth against her warm flesh.
“I thought you were dead tired,” she said, but he heard a hint of teasing in her tone.
“Mmm. But it seems a shame not to take advantage of this time I have alone with mywife.”
She released a giggle, a tiny giggle, that seemed so out of place coming from her, and yet it caused the weariness to evaporate and desire to ratchet through him. He wondered if she was uncomfortable with the thought of marriage because it had once been something of which she dreamed, something that had been snatched away, something she had accepted as an impossibility. If she was nervous now because she was striving not to allow those dreams to reawaken.
He did more than unfasten her frock. He assisted her in divesting all of her clothing. When she was bared, he didn’t know why he’d thought he’d sleep beside her without touching her. After removing his trousers, he took her hand and led her toward the bed. “I’m no longer tired.”
Esme fought not to envision how marriage to him would involve many nights like this: of hisundressing her and taking her to bed. His referring to her as his wife shouldn’t give her the thrill that it did. Instinctually she knew he would marry for love, would adore his wife, would make her grateful every night that she was his.
When he pulled her down onto the bed, she gladly went, finding herself on her back as he trailed his mouth over her skin while his hands stroked her, igniting the flames of her desire. This wasn’t their usual frenzied lovemaking. It was lazy and slow. With him, it was always different and yet the same. She scraped her fingers along his hard muscles, relished the way they bunched with his movements. She’d never had a man as fit as he was, of such strength. He was spoiling her. After him, how could she possibly find satisfaction with anyone else?
He rolled onto his back. When she straddled him, he cradled her hips between his large hands, digging his fingers into her soft flesh, stopping her when she would have mounted him. She lifted her gaze to find his eyes smoldering with want and need.
“Come up here,” he rasped.
She furrowed her brow. “I’m not quite sure—”
Gently he pulled on her. “I want to taste you.”
