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She wouldn’t, would she? She was loyal that way.
And brutally honest.
She would make a good wife. He hoped he would be an equally good husband.
He hoped but he didn’t know.
That day at Gunter’s Willard had simply gazed in Lenora’s direction and Asquith had wanted to tear the man limb from limb.
But he also suspected, from the way she’d reacted on the day he raised his voice, that a show of violence, even in her defense, would cause her to withdraw.
She needed him to prove he could be steady and strong.
She exhaled deeply, with breath enough to carry away her burdens. “In truth, I cannot wait to unburden my heart to those dear to me. But I’ve been waiting for you for years. I can certainly endure for a few more months.”
He kissed her head. “There’s my Lenora.”
His spontaneous response startled them both.
He cleared his throat. “I’m going to leave sooner rather than later, I’m afraid. If I don’t go, I will be too tempted to bed you again.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. “You have cherry pink lips sweeter than a Gunter’s ice.”
“How shockingly poetic of you, Simon.”
Yes, he supposed. Then again, she did funny things to his mind.
She ran her gaze from his lips to his shoulders to his thighs. “If you stay, I would be too tempted to bed you.”
He glanced down, surprised he’d forgotten to put his shirt back on. “You still want me? Even after the pain? Even after everything you’ve seen?”
“Heavens, yes.” She covered his heart with her hand. “I’m mad for you. I always have been.”
He exhaled. He truly did not deserve her.
“After we are married,” he began, “I will dutifully attend your desires. I promise a sh—” He stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat. “I promise my amorous attentions as often as you’re willing to endure them.”
“Simon...” She leaned forward with mischievous excitement. “What word were you about to say?”
He shook his head. “Vulgar. Not at all appropriate for a lady.”
“I’ve abandoned lady-pretensions for the hour. Tell me.” She dipped her head to catch his gaze. “Please?”
“Alright.” Why not? How they spoke to one another behind closed doors was no one’s concern but his own. “Only you cannot tell Nettie, not, at least, before she is wed.”
“Tell Nettie?” She scoffed. “And have her ask where I heard the word?”
“Nettie would,” he agreed with a chuckle. “The vulgar word was shag.”
Her lips formed an oh.
“An old word for copulation. No longer, I believe, in general use.” At least among his friends. “Middle English, I think.”
“So,” she grinned, “you have just pledged to shag me as often as I like?”
“Solemnly pledged.” He concealed his plumping arousal with his arm. “And the shagging can be as raucous as you’d like.”
“Oh! Raucous.” Delighted, her eyes gleamed. “I’m intrigued.”
She silently mouthed the word shag, etching the novel addition to her vocabulary into her mind.
