Page 152

Suddenly, he yanked her into his arms and held her there, her head tucked under his chin, her breast to his chest, his hands supporting her weight against him. “Please believe me,” he said. “I know I don’t deserve your trust, after the way I’ve behaved, but it’s true.”

“The way you’ve behaved?” echoed Fen, sounding mystified. “But you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“If only that were true,” murmured Oswald. “Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” He cautiously bent his head and looked into her face. “Are you calmer now?”

She hiccupped, then her face crumpled. “Will you let me apologize now?” she whispered.

“You’re not the one who owes the apology,” he said gruffly. “That would be me.” Fen stared. “I was a bloody, godsdamn fool to blame you for that play debacle,” he said in a voice husky with regret. “I wish I could take back those things I said to you,” he swallowed. “And those ridiculous things I said about you to my brother. And get back that night I spent apart from you, which was nothing but a futile waste of time.” He closed his eyes a moment. “All I could think about for the last two days was how I’d acted toward you… Mason didn’t believe a word of what I said, I might add. He and Roland both think you’re the best decision I ever made and that I’ve been treating you shockingly.”

“Oswald-”

“Let me say it, Fen,” he insisted, and she lapsed into silence. “I’m a reserved, private man, who doesn’t like to wear his emotions for all to see. Or to be the subject of idle rumors.” Fen tensed up and at this, and he tightened his hold on her until she subsided against him. “When I thought your actions had led to gossip and conjecture, I totally over-reacted. But I’ve learned my lesson,” he said emphatically. “I don’t care if you have a dozen plays written about our marriage.” He took firm hold of her upper arms. “I’m never - ever - letting you go. Do you understand? Your face is so puffy I can barely see your eyes, but I still think you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever beheld and I have no intention of relinquishing you while there’s breath in my body.”

Fen’s eyes closed and she seemed to be waging some kind of inner battle with herself. “Some even worse things have happened in the last two days,” she said at last.

Oswald looked down at her. “I don’t care,” he said succinctly, and took her lips in a deep and heartfelt kiss.

As soon as he released her, her worried face bobbed before him. “But just let me explain-”

“No,” said Oswald, scooping her into his arms and coming to his feet.

“I- but I need to tell you-”

He walked to the bed and deposited her on the sagging mattress. “Gods, this bed,” he complained. “I’ll have to go easy on you for once, or we’ll end up on the floorboards.”

Fen’s white face, turned pink. “Husband-”

He whipped his tunic over his head. “You have as long as it takes for me to get undressed to explain.”Fen clambered to her knees. “Well,” she said, assuming a pained expression. “Mathilde Martindale has run away from court, dressed as a boy,” she gabbled. Oswald unlaced his crotch and shucked down his braies. “Her mother suspects I’m culpable, although I really and truly had no notion of her plans.” When he gave no discernible reaction, she continued rapidly. “And Bess Hartleby has eloped with the artist who painted my portrait. Her uncle is on the privy council with you, although I do not know his name. He is sure to be very angered by it though,” she added. “And to tell you that it is somehow my fault, though I don’t quite know how.”

Oswald slid out of his chauses and pounced on her. “How many’s that?”

“Um.”

“Good,” he said, dragging her shift up and over her head.

“That’s only two scandals,” she said breathlessly, as he tossed her shift over the side of the bed.

He lifted an eyelid. “What’s the third, Fenella?” he asked so softly that her mind went blank.

“I can’t quite remember-” her breath hitched. “Give me a moment-”

“Too late.” He rolled her under him and they became a tangle of limbs, mouths, longing and need. Fen cried out way too soon, but he was relentless, despite his words about going easy on her. As he drove into her, his face above hers, his gaze intent and filled with something that made her chest clench, Fen wrapped her arms and legs around him and sobbed as she was shaken by release again, and felt him reach it within her, and groan deeply against her neck. He rolled them onto their sides and held her close as their heartbeats calmed and their breath returned.

“Stay like this,” he said gruffly, when Fen went to unhook her uppermost leg from his hip. Then he kissed her tenderly, his hand sliding up and over her hip to her waist and then back down again in a comforting caress.

Fen drew back her face to look at him. Tentatively, she raised a hand to his face and ran it through the lock of hair that had fallen across his brow, and stroked her fingers over his cheek.

She drew in a shaky breath. “How do you feel about scandalous portraits of your wife?” she asked nervously. “Now that we’ve established you don’t care about unsanctioned elopements.”

Oswald gazed back at her. “Scandalous portraits?” he repeated. “I take them entirely in my stride. Once they’re firmly in my possession, of course.”

At the return of the husband she knew and loved, Fen gave a sob and craned instinctively closer to him.

“Fenella, don’t!” he said in a tender voice. “I don’t want to ever make you cry again, my darling. Mason told me you were on the brink of tears watching that ridiculous play. I hate myself for not noticing how much it upset you.” He stroked his thumbs down her cheeks. “It was so far from truth that I could not take it seriously. I never dreamed that you would be so hurt by it.”

Fen closed her eyes a moment and reopened them. “It’s just that it played on my worst fears,” she explained. “Being – unwanted – and-”

She found her chin tipped up again by insistent fingertips.