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“It was more than bittersweet,” he said in a low voice.
“I was…heartbroken.”
He held her tighter, and she was grateful for his support. In the past, he had not been able to accept all of her, but of anyone in her life, no one had graced her with more understanding than this man. What other marquess would have been the father he was, let alone allowed her to mother in her way?
After some time, she sat up and looked at her husband, confirming that he, too, was affected by the moment. “Thank you, William.”
He lifted her knuckles to his cheek. Seeing her pale, soft hand near his masculine jawline made it impossible to remain still. She stroked along his jaw, then his eyebrows, a shade darker than his dark-golden hair.
He held himself rigidly, but gazed upon her without censure, only with approval and…hope. He remained still until her fingertip finished tracing the seam of his mouth, then he moved unhurriedly but with confidence and decisiveness, pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
The tentacles of their past still lurked; even when his touch left her breathless, Bea found herself anticipating the moment he would either let go of her, or worse, push her away. But over time, the new weight of his hands on her waist reassured her, just as his mouth adored her.
After a time, weightless in his arms as he kissed her neck, she floated only in the present. William was there with her and his attention was showing no sign of abating. Shame was absent.
At last, his hand journeyed up the bodice of her light-rose walking gown. Panting lightly, she arched against him, eager for his palm to reach her breast.
Bea’s eyes widened in horror as her midriff emitted a loud, prolonged growl.
Her husband froze, and though he didn’t let go of her, he sat up. He blinked, clearing some of the fog, and eventually, the corners of his lips twitched.
He looked down the hall. “Is there a kitten mewling someplace? Hmm. Yes, I might have heard it last night, too.”
“Lord Candleton!” Her mock outrage gave way to breathless giggles for a time, but the sight of her husband leaning over her burned the amusement away.
“You’re hungry,” he said quietly, stroking her cheek.
She swallowed. “I am. Very.”
“As am I.” His gaze raked down her front, and when his eyes met hers, they were hooded.
“Everyone is waiting for us,” she reminded them both.
“I know. I just don’t care.”
“You will. You rarely have such time with Augustus. Let us enjoy it. Just as we shall enjoy each other…tonight.”
With a frustrated huff of air but a smile, William stood and extended a hand to her, and they made their way downstairs to the dining room.
Judging by the way he loaded his plate, she was not alone in her appetites. She nearly chastised him for having waited to eat before thinking better of it. So long as they were in residence together, he always waited for her, no matter what.
“Is something amiss?” he asked, frowning.
She looked up from her untouched plate and smiled. “No.” Only after she took a first delicate bite of toast did William turn his attention to his own meal.
Beatrice had needed to leave London—and her husband—for a time; in that, she had no regrets. She had truly needed those months apart. They both had; in that time, he, too, had drawn important conclusions.
“I’m truly glad you’re here,” she said.
William stopped chewing and simply stared at her with open emotion. After he swallowed down the mouthful of breakfast and took a sip of tea, his voice conveyed all his love. “I’m glad we’re here together.”
∞∞∞
A clear demarcation divided the early afternoon sky above the Candleton estate. Directly above their picnic, pillowy white clouds floated in a sea of robin’s egg blue. In the distance, however, the blue gave way to gray, and beyond that, heavy swirls of charcoal cloud signaled the magnitude of the coming storm.
For the time being, the Dalfours—Bea, William, Augustus, and all four children—enjoyed their late luncheon under a leafy canopy. After a morning exploring William and Augustus’s secret childhood haunts across different parts of the estate, they all relished the chance to give their limbs a rest.
Despite the welcome shade, the air was becoming increasingly stifling, bearing the weight of the impending rainstorm.
