‘I’d like to discover what it is like to make love on a train.’
She gave a small laugh. ‘Funny, I was wondering the same thing myself. Shall we call the steward to make up the bed? We could tell him we are in desperate need of sleep.’
‘I’m in desperate need of something, and I have no intention of waiting for the steward.’ He stood up and pulled the lever that released the bed, closed the blind on the window, locked the door and even pulled the blind down on the outside window, in case they pulled into a station at an inopportune moment or were seen in a compromising position by someone working in the passing fields.
They soon discovered the jolting of the train and the confines of their small compartment, with the bed taking up an inordinate amount of space, was not entirely conducive to a romantic encounter.
But after much giggling from Margaret, a lot of contortions from him, the occasional elbow in his face and a balancing act to stop them falling off the narrow bed, they managed to finally find their rhythm.
And he was right. Making love on a train, despite the awkwardness, was sublime, but making love to Margaret was always sublime, as was the time they spent together afterwards, exhausted and lying in each other’s arms, and, he had to admit, the time they were together outside the bedchamber.
‘So, is your curiosity satisfied?’ she asked, lying sated in his arms, as she ran her hand along the centre of his chest and curled her fingers through his damp hair.
‘Hmm, it wasn’t quite as smoothly done as it was in the fantasies I had during our trip up to Northumberland.’
She sat up and looked down at him, her eyes wide. ‘You were fantasising about making love to me on the train?’
He pushed back the hair that was falling over her face. ‘Yes. In my mind I had you doing all sorts of wicked things to me.’
‘So was I. Well, I wasn’t thinking about wicked things—I didn’t know about wicked things then—but I was imagining you kissing me and touching me.’
‘So, we were both lying in our separate compartments, thinking about each other and driving ourselves mad.’ He ran his hand along her cheek. ‘And now we’re in the same compartment and you’re still driving me mad, I’m pleased to say.’
With that, he kissed her again. ‘And I don’t think my curiosity is entirely satisfied,’ he added, pulling his giggling wife on top of him.
Throughout the journey they never left the compartment. Jacob was determined to make the most of these last precious hours with Margaret, before they faced whatever awaited them when they arrived in London, where he hoped and prayed nothing would change between them. That she wouldn’t remember all those reasons why she had originally dismissed him as a strutting peacock, a superficial rake and a man no sensible woman would ever see as worthy of marriage.
Chapter Eighteen
When she stepped off the train at King’s Cross Station, Margaret looked around, hardly able to believe it was a mere two months since she’d been at this very station, about to start her married life. It felt as if she had been away for a lifetime, and yet at the same time as if she had only just left.
And she felt different. She was no longer that naïve young woman worried about the future, unsure what her new husband really thought of her, yet convinced he did not find her attractive and did not want her for his wife.
She wove her arm through his and leaned against his strong body. After what they had shared during their time together at his estate, and that delightful time together on the train, she had no doubt that her husband found her beautiful. He had told her so often enough, and she was certain he had no regrets about their marriage.
They made their way through the milling crowd and along the busy platform, their train continuing to hiss and puff steam, while porters with trolleys full of luggage rushed hither and thither and the smell of soot, smoke and oil filled the air.
It was no less hectic when they left the bustling station, and she was pleased to see a carriage bearing the Rosedale crest among the lineup of vehicles outside the station.
‘Was London always this chaotic?’ she said as he helped her into their carriage.
‘I was just thinking the same thing,’ he replied as he took his seat beside her. ‘Perhaps it got busier while we were away.’
Or perhaps we have changed. Margaret certainly knew that she had, and she had her lovely husband to thank for that.
They arrived at his Mayfair townhouse and were greeted by his servants, who had readied it for their return. The last time Margaret had been in this house it had been to plead with Jacob to do something, anything, so they would not have to marry. Thank goodness he had not listened to her.
She’d hardly noticed her surroundings on that day but could see now that it was an impressive house, appropriate for a duke’s London residence. Black wrought iron railings edged the steps that led to a glossy black front door, which was flanked by tall columns, giving the house an imposing façade. Inside the front door, the black-and- white tiles and marble pillars made the entranceway light and welcoming, and the area opened to a grand staircase, leading up to the next two storeys.
‘Your home is magnificent,’ she said, doing a small twirl to take in its grandeur.
‘Our home,’ he replied. ‘Would you like a tour?’
Margaret nodded. He took her arm and led her to the drawing rooms and parlours, the dining room and morning rooms, then upstairs to the many bedrooms. When he showed her a small room that was obviously meant to be a nursery, a small quiver of sadness passed through her. Jacob had made love to her so many times she couldn’t begin to count, but he never took the risk of getting her with child. But she did not want to think about that. She’d much rather focus on how happy he made her.
‘This room might make an ideal studio,’ she said, smiling and trying to forget about what else it would be ideal for.
So much had changed between them since they’d been forced to marry, and many of the terms they’d agreed on had been pushed aside in the two short months since they’d walked up the aisle. But they had never discussed children, and it was obvious that was not up for negotiation. Jacob made that apparent every time they made love. It was something she would have to accept, no matter how reluctantly.
