“Holding you,” he said simply, nuzzling the sensitive crux of space between her collarbone and the slope of her shoulder as his arms wrapped more firmly around her ribcage, effectively anchoring her against the hard plane of his torso.
“This—this isveryimpractical.” She gave a final, half-hearted attempt to wiggle free and then let her head fall back against his chest with a sigh. “You are going to miss your boat.”
“What’s impractical is setting sail across an ocean and leaving my bride behind,” he countered. Not trusting his hands in the vicinity of her lovely breasts, he set them on her thighs instead, spreading his fingers apart as he began to gently massage her knotted muscles.
Lord, but she was tense as a bowstring. All strained sinew and locked joints hidden under a politely dismissive smile.
What other secrets was she hiding? What other things might he learn about her, if only he had the luxury of months instead of minutes?
“You know,” he murmured, his lips tracing a line of whisper soft kisses up the length of her neck until he reached the curvededge of her earlobe, “it has belatedly come to my attention that we did not consummate our marriage.”
The muscles that had begun to soften under his tender administration immediately went stiff as a board as she sat upright with such haste that had he not been holding her legs, she would have toppled headfirst into the opposite seat. “We have a license with the church. We both signed our names to parchment. There was a witness. Our marriage is legitimate.”
“I never said it was not.” Taking her lobe between his teeth, he indulged in a light, teasing nibble before soothing the painless bite with his tongue.
“Then what... what are you saying?” she asked in a small, breathy voice that shot a flame of pure heat straight into his loins.
If they weren’t in a carriage . . .
Hell, even if theywerein a carriage, but had more time...
Not helping, he told himself sternly. In fact, all this was doing was making it hurt even more. But when the hurt felt this good... who was he to refuse the pain?
“I am saying that while we may be married, we’re denying ourselves the best part.” Cupping her chin, he turned her head to the side and claimed her lips in a searing, sensuous kiss that would have melted yesterday’s snow to a puddle of water. Dimly, he registered a second whistle, indicating final boarding.
In five minutes, theElizabethwould set sail.
Good thing he only required four.
Chapter Five
Private Residence of the Duke and Duchess of Southwick
London, England
December 1813
“And then whathappened?” Lowering the fan she’d been using to cool her flushed cheeks, Mara leaned forward and pointed her finger accusingly at Abigail. “Youcannotstop there.”
But Abigail, whose own cheeks had begun to turn a distinct rosy shade of pink that had nothing to do with the heat emanating from the crackling fireplace and everything to do with the heat invoked from a past she’d done her best to forget, shook her head.
“N-nothing happened,” she lied. She’d always been a terrible liar. The act of telling an untruth for personal gain made her itch from the inside out. Her mind just did not see the value in it. Except for this one, small, tiny instance. “Stephen sailed back to England, I began my studies at Columbia—”
“—College Medical School.” Mara waved her hand in the air. “Yes, yes. Isn’t there an abbreviation you can use? You may not have noticed, but it’s a rather long name.”
Abigail frowned. “It is a very important and prestigious institution.”
“Notthatprestigious, or they’d have recognized your value the moment you walked in the door and begged you to be astudent, woman or not. But I digress.” Cradling her rounded belly, the Duchess of Southwick leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the ankle. “I mean no offense, Dr. Chadwick. Abigail. But I already know you are a brilliant doctor. What Idon’tknow is what Lord Lancaster did with his mouth before he exited that carriage.”
If Abigail’s face had been warm before, it was positively burning now. “I’m not sure that I understand to what you are referring. It is getting late, Your Grace. You should be—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence,” warned Mara, her auburn brows pinching together to form an ominous line. “I have rested so much that there is a permanent indentation in my pillow. What I havenotdone is enjoy the pleasure of my husband’s... company... in nearly three weeks. He is afraid he’ll harm the baby.”
Medicine and science, Abigail thought with no small measure of relief. She could discuss medicine and science. It was as familiar to her as breathing, and far more comfortable than anything to do with Stephen, marriage, or passionate carriage encounters.
“His Grace can rest assured that your cervix will not begin to significantly dilate until you are in active labor, at which time intimate relations should be halted. Although, there recently was a new study and article published inThe Medical Repositorythat suggests genital stimulation may have a positive effect on—”
“Abigail! We are not here to converse about my genital stimulation, of which sadly there has been very little lately. I want to hear aboutyourgenital stimulation.” Mara paused. “You know, those are eight words I never dreamt I would say aloud. I do believe that this pregnancy is turning me into my sister, Kitty.”
