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“Does that surprise you?”
“No. Nor does it matter. Once we managed to retrieve Russet, the last of my bonds with Tragmore was severed. I don’t intend to return.”
At the sound of his name, Russet raised his head from Daphne’s lap, his sharp eyes darting about the carriage. Evidently content with what he saw, he wrapped his tail around him, curled closer in the folds of his mistress’s gown, and went to sleep.
“Your fox cub appears to be taking his transition rather well,” Pierce observed dryly. “Granted, he was leery at first, but he certainly seems at peace now.”
“He’s accustomed to upheaval. He was abandoned young—at birth I fear—and had to make his own way.”
“He and I have a great deal in common.” A sad smile touched Daphne’s lips. “So you do. Well, like you, Russet is a survivor. He’ll resettle himself in no time, so long as I’m nearby.”
“A great deal in common,?
?? Pierce repeated huskily, reaching across to take Daphne’s hand in his.
Their gazes locked, their fingers touched, and Daphne’s heart skipped a beat at the unconcealed longing burning in her husband’s forest green eyes.
“I wonder if I’ll always feel this way when you look at me like that,” she whispered.
“Like what?” Pierce kissed her fingertips, one by one, his breath a heated caress on her sensitized skin.
“Like you are now. Like you did last night.”
“Ah, last night.” Pierce eased across to sit beside her, his palms gliding up her arms to her shoulders, tugging her to him. “I can still feel you, taste you, hear your cries of pleasure as you shuddered under me.” His fingers slid beneath her hair, stroking her nape as his mouth found hers. “Ah, Daphne, I want to drown in you again.”
She gripped his coat, moaning softly as his words brought back all the excitement, the wonder of their wedding night. Her mouth opened to his, welcoming his tongue, melding it with her own. Had Russet not been occupying her lap, she would have flung herself into Pierce’s embrace, given herself up to his magic then and there.
Pierce sensed and shared her frustration. “When we arrive at Markham, I’ll introduce you to the staff—at least the first wave of them,” he murmured against her lips. “Then, I’ll arrange for a hot bath to be drawn for you. While you’re bathing, I’ll be making final provisions for your mother.” He circled his lips against hers. “Moreover, I suggest you concentrate on soaking the ache from your muscles. Because Daphne,” he nipped lightly, “I fully intend to tax each and every one of those beautiful muscles, plus some new ones that have yet to be exhausted, again tonight.” He absorbed her tiny shiver. “Are you amenable to that?”
“Y-yes. But Pierce?”
“Hmm?”
“I think my muscles will be renewed long before nightfall.”
“Prophetic as well as insightful and passionate.” Pierce traced her lower lip with his tongue. “Very well, then. Dusk, shall we say?”
“Late afternoon would be better.”
This time it was Pierce who shuddered. “Continue baiting me like that and I’ll make love to you in the carriage, fox or not.”
“That sounds intriguing.” Daphne gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Pierce went rigid, then abruptly checked himself. “No, Mrs. Thornton. When I have you next, it’s going to be in a bed. My bed. Where we can enjoy each other with total and utter abandon. With no carriage seats nor sofa cushions to inhibit our movements or our pleasure. All right?”
“All right.” Daphne was barely able to speak.
“Good.” He glanced impatiently out the carriage window. “I am suddenly very eager to reach Markham.”
The bath water did indeed feel wonderful, Daphne thought gratefully, sinking deeper into the tub. She’d insisted on bathing herself, much to the chagrin of her new lady’s maid, Lily, whom she’d selected from the profusion of female servants she’d met earlier. Lily was of middle years, kind faced and experienced, having served the late Duchess of Markham for a dozen years.
Markham itself was not nearly so stark and intimidating as Daphne had anticipated. Oh, the manor was enormous, with hundreds of rooms on thousands of acres. But there was a seed of potential floating about, almost as if the estate were sleeping and needed the right touch to awaken it.
Daphne smiled at her fanciful notion. Perhaps it was the hot water making her silly, or perhaps it was the lingering elation over the hope she’d spied in her mother’s eyes when Pierce had described his various properties to her, as well as his various contacts, who would ensure her safety day and night. At this moment, Elizabeth was readying herself for her morning trip to Rutland, where Pierce owned a small, picturesque estate of modest acreage and beautiful scenery, an estate Elizabeth was most eager to make her home.
Once again, Pierce had answered a prayer.
“Sleeping, Snow flame?”
