Page 30 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

Michael tilted his head. “We promised to speak frankly. What aspect did you particularly enjoy? I will endeavor to do that again.”

She hesitated. Daring to say the words had resulted in the lustiest, most magical bedding imaginable. And yet what she truly wanted was something few husbands would even entertain, let alone permit. Blast it all. Good wives did not talk about these kinds of acts. On the other hand, their marriage had hardly been traditional so far, had it?

The only course of action was to confess and hope for the best.

“Your tongue is splendid,” Katherine began slowly.

“Why thank you.”

“I should like that often. Not occasionally. Often.”

Michael nodded, his gaze turning delightfully roguish. “Regularly licking your pussy will be no hardship whatsoever, my lady. I must admit, it has been difficult to stay away. But I didn’t want to overtax you.”

“I’ll say if I’m tired or unwell. But otherwise…bed me,” she finished huskily. “By the by, would you like me to return the favor? Kiss your cock?”

He groaned and shifted restlessly in his chair. “Only if you want to.”

“I do. Pleasure should be mutual. But…” Katherine took a deep breath and plunged on. “I have a confession. When Gerard delivered those books, I hugged him and…and…he got hard. I rubbed myself against him. I am so attracted to you, but I am attracted to Gerard as well. In different ways. I want to pet and stroke and ride you. With him, I think about…submission. Being taken. Oh God. Please forgive me. I cannot believe I’m even saying these things…”

“I understand completely,” said Michael softly.

What?

Her husband was entirely too calm about this. Clearly, he didn’t understand the extent of her depravity.

“Do you?” she burst out. “I’m saying I want your valet to make me kneel and suck his cock. While you watch.”

For the longest moment, the parlor was silent enough to hear butterfly sneezes. Then Michael recommenced stirring his tea. “I see.”

“No, not like that,” she said, rushing over to crouch beside his chair and hold his hand. “Not replacing you. I am exceedingly content with my choice of husband and think our marriage will only get stronger the more open we are with each other. The more honest we are. Have you and Gerard been together with a woman before? Perhaps…shared a lover?”

“Well, ah…the truth is—”

Katherine nearly shrieked in frustration at the knock to the parlor door. “Yes?” she said, too sharply.

The maid bobbed a curtsy. “Beg pardon, my lady, my lord, but Mr. Hunter has returned. He’s in the ballroom, sketching where the decorations, musicians and refreshment tables will go so it can be set up over the next few days.”

“Thank you.”

Michael stood and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Acute disappointment surged through her. “Of course.”

As they departed the parlor and walked toward the ground floor ballroom, Michael leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “I’m not avoiding your question. This is a conversation best had with all parties present, wouldn’t you agree?”

Katherine almost stumbled. They were going to do this. Be frank with each other, perhaps even commit to a new arrangement. Michael seemed willing to discuss it…but the unknown of Mr. Hunter’s thoughts loomed like a dark abyss. What if he changed his mind? Only wanted one night? What if an earl was enough for him to love? It was all quite a tangle.

“Yes,” she whispered, her grip tightening on Michael’s arm.

Moments later, they strolled into the enormous ballroom, and once again the sheer size of the space made her gasp. It was a corner room, two walls each had three large windows, and another wall boasted a magnificent fireplace. Every twenty feet a sculpted stone column soared to the ceiling, and there was even a raised carpeted dais that could be used as a stage. Apparently, the ballroom easily held at least several hundred people. If everyone on Mr. Hunter’s attendance list confirmed, it would be an absolute crush.

Ugh. That made her feel ill for an altogether different reason. She had yet to experience an enjoyable ball, and being hostess, there was no chance of fading into the flower arrangements or hiding in a darkened alcove to read.

Michael patted her hand, his eyes sympathetic. “I know. My mother adored hosting balls, but it gives me hives. Gerry helped improve my dancing significantly, but I’ll never be graceful.”

“Nonsense, my lord,” came that gruff burr. “You’re accomplished at both the waltz and quadrille. Is there something I can assist with? Ye both look rather grave.”

“We’d like a private word, if you don’t mind,” said Michael. “On a delicate topic.”