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‘No. Look.’ Adam opened a door. Decima got out of bed, blushed all over when she remembered she was naked, and caught a sheet around her. The next chamber was a dressing room and in the middle of it stood a tub, full of steaming water. The dressing table was set out with her brushes and little silver pots and hanging from the doors of the press were dresses and petticoats.
‘Pru?’
‘And Bates.’ Adam pulled aside a curtain. Through the trees Decima could see lights twinkling. ‘There’s a snug gardener’s cottage. We won’t see them, but the horses are stabled, there will be food on the table shortly and for two days we can run away from the world.’
‘But Pru and Bates aren’t…I mean, I shouldn’t countenance…’ Decima followed Adam’s gaze to where the big bed stood, the sheets a rumpled testimony to an afternoon of lovemaking. ‘Oh.’ She could feel the blush mounting her cheeks and hid her confusion by burying her face in the thick silk of Adam’s dressing gown.
‘I do love you, Decima Ross,’ Adam murmured into her tousled hair. ‘And if you could think clearly after I’ve made love to you I would not take that as much of a compliment. Now, come and let me soap you all over while we congratulate ourselves on our excellent matchmaking skills.’
Decima let him peel away the sheet and slid into the warm, scented water with a soft sigh of pleasure. ‘But everyone must get married soon,’ she said firmly, trying to resist a whimper of delight as Adam squeezed a soapy sponge over her.
‘Absolutely,’ he agreed seriously. ‘I cannot speak for Bates, or Freshford for that matter, but I have every intention of applying for a licence at the earliest possible opportunity. Meanwhile…’ he bent to nibb
le her earlobe ‘…meanwhile, I intend practising making love to you as often as I can.’
‘Yes, Adam,’ Decima agreed meekly. ‘It is regrettable that it appears to make us late for meals, but I cannot help but feel it is my duty to practise as much as possible to please you.’ She rather spoilt this pious wifely hope by turning to curl wet arms around his shoulders. ‘I do love you, Adam.’
‘And I love you.’ He got to his feet and pulled off the dressing gown. ‘Do you think this bathtub will hold both of us? Because I fully intend being very late for dinner.’
Downstairs in the kitchen Pru shut the oven door firmly on a beef casserole, set the bread and butter on the table and smiled at Jethro Bates. ‘There, that won’t spoil, never mind how late they are. Now, what shall we have for dinner?’
