Page 55 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“My lord!” she exclaimed, before he smothered the words with his mouth, kissing her.

The tension left her body at once and her hands settled upon his chest. Wrexham settled one hand at the back of her head, holding her in place as he kissed her harder, deeper. Through all the disruption Emmeline had stood beside him, steady and unflinching, and a wave of emotion hit him hard, so fierce he hardly knew what to do with it.

It filled him up, chasing away thoughts of his father and half-brother, allowing him to forget the horror of the morning until there was only Emmeline and a strength of feeling that scared him to death as much as he welcomed it.

She broke the kiss with a gasp, pushing at his chest.

“You asked them to gather the staff!” she exclaimed.

“That will take a while,” he murmured, finding her ankle beneath the layers of fabric and sliding his hand higher. Desire burned in his blood as his hand circled the slender limb, the feel of her stocking sliding beneath his palm tantalising.

“Not that long,” she said breathlessly as his hand reached her thigh and warm, silken skin.

“But I want you,” he murmured, nuzzling the sweetly scented skin of her neck.

“You do?” she asked, sounding so uncertain he raised his head, frowning.

“You doubt it?” he asked, astonished. “Surely you’ve had proof enough?”

His fingers found the slit in her drawers and the silken hair beneath as Emmeline sucked in a sharp breath.

“No,” she said, the word faint. “Not enough.”

Wrexham trailed his fingers back and forth through the feathery curls, parting the soft skin to find the little hidden place beneath. She gasped and buried her face against his neck.

Wrexham took her hand and pressed it against the placket of his trousers, his cock twitching under her palm. “How about now?” he asked, his voice low.

She gave an unsteady laugh, caressing him inexpertly but with enthusiasm, and his mind went black. The events of the morning had undermined his confidence, but over the past days Emmeline had consistently bolstered him, had made him feel invincible, as if he could do anything with her beside him. That some vile sneak had entered his home and so discomposed him had made him feel a fool again, though… somehow that hurt his pride far worse than any previous or more serious injury. He knew himself well enough to understand that was why he had behaved so badly. But now he was calm, and very much alive, and he wanted more than anything to prove that to himself and his wife.

Wrexham dipped his finger lower, his own breath snagging in his throat at the discovery that she wanted him too. The longing to sink into the wet heat surrounding his finger was so great his body ached with wanting. He groaned as he heard the staff gathering in the great hall beyond the door.

“Hell and damnation,” he muttered.

Emmeline gave an unsteady laugh. “You’d best go.”

“I should have told them to gather in an hour. Or two. Or this afternoon.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, pushing at him when he tried to kiss her again.

“Very well,” he grumbled. “But I’m not done with you, lady wife.”

“I should think not,” she said tartly as he released her, and he heard the swish of material as she rearranged her skirts. She stood up, but before he could do likewise, she pressed her mouth to his, kissing him hard and swift. “Later,” she promised.

Wrexham smiled, more than happy to fulfil that request, and concentrated on ridding himself of a rather impressive cockstand before he addressed the staff.

Chapter 15

Dearest Ruth,

My heart is breaking. I know now how Lyall’s ill-advised marriage must eat away at your heart. No matter how hard we wish perfect lives for our children, for the way to be smooth and free of the obstacles we faced in our time, we cannot live their lives for them. We cannot make their choices, for they are not us but themselves. Repeatedly, I wonder if I have given Catherine too much freedom, too much courage, yet I would not have her any other way. To see her so bereft though, is hard to bear. I believe it is worse for Lucian. He feels he has failed her, that he ought to have protected her, but how can one protect someone so young and headstrong when they run full tilt towards danger?

Cat believes Lord Kilbane to be redeemable. She believes if she is patient and kind that he will come to trust her, but I fear what it will cost her to make such an effort. I have never believed him the villain they purport him to be, but I cannot be easy in my mind. Yet it truly grieved him to be forced into marrying her, and in his own way he acted honourably. Perhaps there is some shred of hope. I shall cling to it, for what else can I do?

―Excerpt of a letter from The Most Hon’ble Matilda Barrington, Marchioness of Montagu to her friend The Right Hon’ble Ruth Anderson, Countess of Morven.

18th of February 1845, Cawston Hall, Cawston, Norfolk.

Emmeline stood beside her husband as he addressed his staff. Her heart swelled as he spoke, knowing how proud he was, how it irked him to apologise, but how gracious he was in doing so.