“You’re damned right I’m annoyed. You are my wife, Abigail. You are the Countess of Lancaster.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You shouldn’t be throwing logs on a fire or making tea in the kitchen. And you shouldn’t be living completely alone in themiddle of a New England winter! What if something happened to you?”
“I have Susan.”
“Susan is acat.”
As if she knew that she had become the focus of attention, Susan chose that exact moment to stroll into the parlor. Pinning her ears to her skull, she hissed at Stephen before she leaped onto the back of an armchair beside the fireplace, gave a disdainful flick of her tail, and curled into a ball.
Abigail’s gaze went from her cat to her husband. She linked her fingers together. “Susan is very protective—”
“So am I,” Stephen growled, taking a step toward her. “And I don’t like the idea of you here alone, fending for yourself, while I am an ocean away.”
“I can assure you that I am perfectly capable offendingfor myself.” The temptation to retreat was strong, but she held her ground and even raised her chin a notch. She would not permit Stephen to intimidate her here, in her own house. Admittedly, a house that he was paying for, but still. He had no right to tell her what to do or how to conduct her daily life. At least not for another twenty-four months. When she was in England, she would be at his mercy. An idea that filled her with both dread... and a dark, forbidden type of anticipation. But while she was in America, she refused to yield to the rule of a husband who had the arrogance to arrive unannounced on her doorstep.
“I understand you value your independence, Abigail.” He spoke slowly, each word measured by a prowling footfall in her direction until the only space that separated them was the air between their lips. “But I will not allow it to come at the expense of your own safety.”
Behind the clear glass lenses of her spectacles, her green eyes flashed. “You will notallow—”
“That’s right,” he interrupted, and had she a tail like Susan’s, it would have definitely twitched. “I may be an ocean away, but I am your husband. You are my responsibility. Unless you would like to accompany me back to London—”
“No,” she cut in hastily.
“—then I should like you to hire, at the very least, a maid and a cook.” His hands went to her hips, and she sucked in a breath when he easily spanned her waist. “You’ve lost weight. You’re not taking proper care of yourself.”
“I am,” she protested. Oh, why did he have to be soclose? She couldn’t think clearly when he was holding her, the sharp wit of her mind rendered useless by a strong grip and a domineering gaze. “I’ve just been... busy.”
“Too busy to eat?” A slight tug, and the distance between them disappeared. He dropped his head, his words caressing the exposed line of her neck as he murmured, “You’re working yourself too hard, Abigail.”
She started to nod, then stopped herself. Why was she agreeing with him?Because he makes me lightheaded, she thought silently.Because all I can imagine is his mouth on mine. Because when he looks at me like that, the laws of science no longer apply.
“You should rest.” His hands glided up her body, the base of his palms following the natural curves of her frame in a wandering embrace that was far more intimate than it should have been given the multiple layers of clothing she wore. Then he leaned, his warm lips skimming the top of her ear as he whispered, “Relax, sweet.”
With a meow of pure disgust, Susan abandoned her post and ran out of the parlor.
Abigail barely noticed.
“Relax,” she repeated dazedly, and what had they been arguing about again?
“That’s right.” His fingers sank into her shoulders, massaging tension from muscles that she hadn’t even realized were sore from sleepless nights and unpacking a seemingly endless number of boxes. How many scissors, tweezers, and scalpels could a single doctor squeeze into a tiny office? A shocking amount. Almost as shocking as the pulse of pure pleasure that radiated down to her very core when Stephen kissed her.
All at once, she was back in the carriage with his mouth on hers. The time lost between them melted away, and in its place was an unbridled desire that would not be denied.
Rising up on her toes, she clung fast to the front of his shirt, using his hard chest for an anchor as his tongue slid sensuously between her lips to explore the soft, damp velvet within. Tentatively, and then with a great deal more vigor when she felt more than heard his throaty groan, she returned his kiss in the same manner, the tip of her tongue tracing the seam of his lips before they parted in bold invitation, welcoming her within to where he tasted of caramel, coffee, and carnal sin.
Reaching for her spectacles, he broke the kiss to pluck them neatly off her nose and set them aside. Through a hazy mist of lust, she saw that his eyes burned a deep, burnished copper as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and growled one brutally short question.
“Bedroom?”
Devoid of words, she could only point helplessly up the stairs and then hold onto his neck as he climbed them two at a time, his strength such that she was hardly jostled even when he kicked open the door.
“Tell me to stop whenever you’d like and I will,” he said gruffly as he lowered her onto the checkered whole-cloth quilt spread neatly across her mattress. “But damned if I’ll want to. I’ve been waiting for this, Abigail. Waiting for you and the wedding night that bloody ship denied us. It’s been torture.”
Torture?
Yes, as heat licked up her body in the form of short, invisible flames when he removed his waistcoat and shirt, baring his absurdly muscled torso to her wide-eyed gaze, Abigail supposed she could see the comparison. Therewasa type of torture to be found in wanting something so fiercely that it made you ache. But instead of pain, she felt only pleasure.
“Roll on your back,” he said, and when she did, her chin shyly tucking into the valley of her collarbone, he undid her dress and the layers beneath it until nothing touched her skin but air... and his mouth.
After that, everything blurred for a while. Grasping her wrist, he stretched her arm above her head as he kissed her again, first on her lips, then her breasts, then lower still, until she sucked in her navel on a mewling gasp and her fingers tangled in the roots of his hair before raking across his shoulders.
