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At that point, Sally was interrupted by the valet kissing her quite firmly and enthusiastically, so it was some time before he raised his head and said, “How am I wrong?”
Sally laughed up into Mr. Pynch’s lovely, scowling face. “You’re wrong that I’ll regret marrying you. I’ll never regret marrying you, because I love you as well.”
Which only earned her another enthusiastic kiss.
MELISANDE STRETCHED LUXURIOUSLY and rolled against her husband. “Good morning,” she whispered.
“Indeed it is,” he said. His voice was lazy, with just a hint of exhaustion.
She hid a smile against his shoulder. He’d nearly worn himself out, making slow love to her. He did seem to like waking her in the mornings.
A scratch and a whine came from her dressing room.
Melisande poked Vale in the ribs. “You need to let him out now.”
He sighed. “Must I?”
“He’ll only scratch more, and then he’ll start barking, and Sprat will come to the door and ask if he should take Mouse out.”
“Dear God, such a large ruckus for such a small dog,” Vale muttered, but he rose from their pallet and padded nude across the floor.
Melisande watched him under lowered eyelids. He really did have the most beautiful bottom. She smiled, wondering what he’d think if she said so.
Jasper opened the door to the dressing room. Mouse trotted busily out with a bone in his mouth. He jumped on the pallet and turned about three times before settling and gnawing his prize. Their pallet had expanded in the last month with the addition of a thin mattress and lots of pillows. Melisande had had the bed removed from her room altogether, and now the pallet took up pride of place against the wall between the windows. At night, with only a candle for light, she imagined that she lay in some Ottoman palace.
“That dog ought to have his own bed,” Vale muttered.
“He does have his own bed,” Melisande pointed out. “He just doesn’t sleep in it.”
Vale scowled down at the dog. Of course, he had been the one to give Mouse the bone, so no one in the room took the scowl very seriously.
“Be glad he no longer sleeps under the covers,” Melisande said.
“I am glad. I hope never to find a cold nose against my arse again.” He turned his scowl on her. “And what are you smirking about, my lady wife?”
“I beg your pardon, this is not a smirk.”
“Oh, yes?” He began to prowl toward her, all lean muscle and intent, interested male. “Then how would you characterize your expression?”
“I’m admiring the view,” she said.
“Are you?” He made a detour to where he’d carelessly flung his coat the night before. “Perhaps you’d like me to perform a gavotte?”
She tilted her head, watching as he dug in the pocket of his coat. “I might like that.”
“Would you, you insatiable baggage?”
“I would.” She stretched a bit on the pallet, letting her nipples pop from the coverlet. “But I can be satiated, you know.”
“Can you?” he muttered. His eyes were on her nipples, and he seemed a bit distracted. “I’ve tried and tried and still you’re eager. You wear a man out.”
Her lips curved at his plaintive tone, and she glanced significantly at his cock, standing proud and erect now. “You don’t look worn out.”
“It’s terrible, isn’t it,” he said conversationally. “You look at me and I become embarrassingly attentive.”
She held out her arms. “Come here, you silly man.”
He grinned and knelt by her side.
