Page 58 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“Then you only want a kiss?” he asked, all innocence.

“No!” she retorted.

He grinned, the boyish, impudent expression that made her brain melt and her heart override all good sense. “What then? Tell me.”

“You know very well,” she protested.

“Of course I do, but I want to hear you say it.”

Frustrated, Emmeline reached down between them, curving her fingers around his arousal and stroking.

He groaned and rested his forehead against hers. “You don’t play fair.”

“This,” she said, growing breathless. “This is what I want.”

He made a sound that was half pain, half laughter and moved over her. “Anything for you, pet.”

“Rex!” she cried as he thrust into her, stealing anything resembling thought as sensation surged through her.

He loved her until she was mindless and boneless and trembling, and then sent her spinning into the dark as the climax glittered through her, sparkling behind her eyelids. She held on to him, the one fixed point as everything else fell away. It was perfect and wonderful until he, too, found his release and withdrew from her body as he always did, spending across her stomach with a groan.

Emmeline bit her lip, holding her tongue. He had given her so much today: his trust in her judgement, his promise for the future. There was time for everything else. It wasn’t as if she wanted a child this minute. They had time.

The nagging reminder that Wrexham was certain he would not remain the man he was, that he would gradually descend into madness, was one she pushed away too. She would hope for the best for now, and she would make her own enquiries, too. In her opinion, too many of her husband’s troubling ideas could be traced back to his loathsome father. If that were the case, she would do everything in her power to fight back.

Emmeline got up and went to the washstand, cleaning herself up and glancing outside to see the sun had come out and it was a bright afternoon. They had spent most of the day in bed, which seemed both decadent and wonderful. She hurried to join Wrexham, who had arranged the pillows in a heap behind him and was sitting back, looking like a cosseted pasha awaiting his harem.

He kissed her, welcoming her back, and Emmeline sighed with content.

“Did you like to read?” she asked, suddenly wondering about the things he must miss.

He nodded. “Yes, one of the many pleasures taken from me.

“Would you like me to read to you? I bought a book just before we left, and I think you would like it. It’s called The Count of Monte Cristo. I’d love to share it with you… I mean if you’d like me to. What do you think?” she asked cautiously, wondering if she had been too enthusiastic. Perhaps he would consider being read to akin to being babied.

“I think you are the sweetest creature that ever walked the earth, pet. I should like that very much. Thank you for thinking of it.”

Emmeline beamed, feeling pleased with herself, and then gasped as there was a knock at the door.

“My lord? I beg your pardon, but Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight are here.”

“Lud!” Emmeline squealed and leapt out of bed.

Chapter 16

My Lady,

Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr Gilbert Berrycloth, Lord Kilbane’s private secretary. I believe Mr Bright has already been in contact with you and you should certainly refer to him regarding all financial matters. For anything else, however, please rest assured that I am entirely at your disposal.

If I might say so, I was delighted to hear of your recent nuptials to Lord Kilbane. If ever I can be of service to you, do not hesitate to contact me.

I also provide below the address where you may contact your husband and me for the following six weeks. I will ensure any change of address is forwarded to you in plenty of time.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Gilbert Berrycloth, private secretary to Lord Kilbane, to The Most Hon’ble Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Kilbane (daughter of Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Most Hon’ble Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu).

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

Gabe took out his pocket watch—yet again—tucked it back in his waistcoat pocket, and recommenced pacing.