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Laurel curled her arms around her husband’s neck and hugged him tightly as he leaned back to push the door closed behind them. They were married and her childhood certainty that they were meant for each other was vindicated after nine long years. It would take a little getting used to after she had managed to convince herself that she was quite content to be a spinster and an independent woman, but it would be all right because this was meant to be.
They still had to get to know each other again, learn how to make the marriage work, but she wondered, as Giles set her on her feet, how she had ever doubted him in the past. Now there was nothing but trust between them and on that foundation they would build not only a marriage, but a family.
The urgency of Giles’s mouth on hers told her that he was contemplating beginning that family at the earliest possible moment, a sentiment with which she was entirely in accordance. Her bonnet was askew and the ribbons were half-strangling her. She had to stand on tiptoe to kiss Giles with the eagerness she felt and the bouquet was scratchily pressed between her bosom and his chest and was prickling her chin. Laurel tossed it back over one shoulder without breaking the kiss, then heard a small shriek of delight.
Giles stopped kissing her and lifted his head just enough to murmur, ‘We are not alone.’
‘No, it seems not,’ Laurel agreed, disentangling herself. She wondered if she was quite as pink in the face as she felt. She pulled her bonnet straight and turned to find Giles’s valet Dryden. Beside him, clutching the slightly battered bouquet, was Binham looking happier than Laurel had ever seen her.
‘We were just departing, my lord. Everything is in order according to your instructions. Come along,’ he added in a mutter and gave Binham’s arm a tug.
To Laurel’s surprise her maid did not protest at such treatment, merely bobbed a curtsy and hurried after the valet, holding tight to the flowers.
‘What is the matter with her?’ Giles demanded.
‘She is somewhat confused after catching the bridal bouquet—by tradition that should mean she is the next bride.’
‘Heavens, I hope she does not have her eye on Dryden. The woman terrifies me.’
‘Me, too, at first, I must confess. Stepmama employed her without consulting me and I had every intention of dismissing her with excellent references and finding someone more amenable, but she is actually mellowing.’ She looked around. ‘Are we alone here now?’
‘That was my idea. Binham and Dryden have brought over everything we might need until tomorrow, there should be champagne on ice, and the hotel will send up food and hot water and so forth when we ring for it, at whatever time, day or night. It occurred to me that carrying you over the threshold in the Square and then continuing straight upstairs and vanishing for twenty-four hours might cause you some embarrassment.’ He was working on the bow of her bonnet ribbons as he spoke.
‘It would be equally awkward to be sitting around for the rest of the day waiting for dinner to be over and pretending that we were not just married and dying to be in bed.’
‘Are you? Dying to be in bed with me?’ Giles set the bonnet aside, pulled off his gloves with his teeth and began work on the row of buttons down the front of her pelisse.
‘I find myself quite resigned to the prospect,’ Laurel said demurely. He was remarkably adept with fiddly buttons.
‘Minx. You never were very convincing as a demure miss. Whenever we were in trouble as children you would stand there looking far too innocent to be believable.’ The pelisse slid off her shoulders and Giles tossed it on to a chair along with his tall hat, then shrugged out of his coat. ‘The bedchamber should be that door there.’
They stumbled into the other room, wearing considerably less than they had started with. Giles’s waistcoat and neckcloth had gone, apparently while he had followed her across the sitting room, caressing her out of her gown as she retreated before him. His urgency was exciting and the flutter of nerves quite disappeared to be replaced with a sensation that Laurel recognised as arousal, warming and teasing parts of her that no young lady was supposed to be aware of, let alone think about. Since that interlude on the island she had found herself thinking about them more than she should and about Giles’s body, naked in the sunlight.
‘I had better draw the curtains.’ Giles gestured towards the view of the windows on the opposite side of Albemarle Street. ‘Ah, there are thin blinds, that is better.’ He drew them down, filtering the light into a softness that still allowed them to see each other clearly. ‘Now, Lady Reve
sby...’ And then he seemed to lose the desire to talk because while he had turned away to locate the blind pulls she had taken the pins from her hair and stepped out of her petticoats.
Giles’s breathing hitched as he ran his hands into the tumbled curls that she had washed so carefully in rosemary infusion, that Binham had brushed and brushed as it dried so every lock was glossy and slippery over his fingers.
He lifted her with one arm around her waist, the other still in her hair, and laid her on the bed, following her so they were locked together on the high mattress. He went still, unspeaking, looking down into her eyes, then he bent his head and kissed her. It began as a slow, gentle pressure, but as she kissed him back, slid her arms around him and tugged at his shirt, he became more urgent, his fingers tangling with the ribbons and laces of her underthings until Laurel sat up and pulled off her chemise herself.
‘You will have to unlace me.’ She found she was beyond shyness.
Quite shameless, in fact.
It was unspeakably erotic, to turn her back to give him access, to feel the nip of his teeth on the nape of her neck as he freed her from her corset, his hands coming round to cup her breasts as the laces yielded and the stiff boning released them. His thumbs fretted across her nipples and Laurel looked down to see them stiffen, pushing impudently against his fingers. She was cradled between his spread thighs, against his chest and she could feel clearly that he was erect and hard, his arousal pressing blatantly against her buttocks.
The nerves fluttered back, but in a way that was strangely exciting. Laurel wriggled, pressing against him, her head tipped back on his shoulder. ‘Giles.’
Chapter Seventeen
Giles moved, turning her on to her back on the bed, pulling the loosened corset away. He bent to kiss her breasts, then he dragged his shirt over his head and got off the bed to free himself of the rest of his clothing. When they were both naked he stood there looking at her, then reached out and stroked his hand over the slight swell of her stomach, down into the curls.
‘Shall we make this irrevocable?’ he asked, his voice husky. His desire was evident in his body, in his face, in his voice, but the strangeness of his words made her frown for a second, confused. Surely there was no question of this not being irrevocable? They were married now in the sight of the church and the law. But perhaps he was as overset as she was, emotions tangling his tongue.
‘Oh, yes, Giles.’
I would rather you had asked me if we should make love...but that is only a euphemism, a form of words after all. It need not have anything to do with the emotion of love, I suppose.
