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Marcella shook her head, and her cheeks pinkened. “It’s not only from one phrase. While I was at my desk, I was struck with inspiration and continued writing. I assumed I would stop when you came to learn why I’d not joined you for bed, but you never did.”
“I have a habit of letting myself be consumed utterly by trivial matters,” Reginald replied. “I know that Matthew looked this all over, but I find myself unable to rest without checking over his work. Many times, in fact.”
Marcella hummed and seated herself across from him. “It must be difficult for you, this part of being a Marquess.”
Reginald nodded. “I scarcely even learned this part of it before I left, and I’ve quite forgotten everything.”
“Not everything.”
“No?”
Marcella smiled. “You seem…to remember something of gracious behavior.”
He blinked at her, taken aback. “I don’t know how you’d reach that conclusion. You must share your reasoning.”
Marcella fidgeted with her gown, bunching the fabric into small bouquets over her slender thighs. Reginald’s breath gave a sudden, ungraceful hitch. “I think you’ve…been kinder to me than I deserve,” she said. “You were very patient with me during our courtship, even when I wasn’t kind to you. And I want to make amends for that.”
“You were being forced into an impossible position. Anyone would’ve been upset with the predicament, and I don’t fault you for that.”
“Which further proves my point,” Marcella said. “Most men would. It’s not as if the lot was entirely unexpected, after all. Are women of my standing not expected to do two things in the course of their lives, those being marriage and childbirth?”
“Almost certainly,” Reginald conceded.
Marcella nodded. “So thank you, my husband, for being so patient with me. And I appreciate how hard you work at all of this, even if it’s unfamiliar to you.”
“I appreciate how forgiving you are,” Reginald said, “since we’re talking about admirable qualities.”
Marcella gave him a puzzled look. “I’ve hardly been forgiving. I have been very cold to you.”
“You accepted my friends without judgment,” Reginald said, “and you share my desire to see the world improved. You forgive everything about me that isn’t proper.”
Marcella let out a small laugh. “It’s your improprieties which make you interesting, if I may be forgiven for saying so. I’d have never been happy if I’d had a conventional husband.”
“No,” Reginald agreed. “I imagine not.”
Marcella stretched her legs out, and Reginald’s eyes traced the line of her gown and the way the fine fabric rippled around her. She leaned forward, and his eyes lingered on her full breasts.
“I’m distracting you, though,” said Marcella, seemingly oblivious. “I’m sorry.”
“I might welcome a distraction,” Reginald replied slyly. “Of averyinappropriate sort.”
Marcella drew in a breath and put a hand to her chest, her face the very image of feigned outrage. “Why, what a scandalous thing to even suggest!”
Reginald rose slowly. “It’s about to become muchmorescandalous, My Lady.”
Marcella smiled. “Shall we go to the bedroom, then?”
Reginald shook his head and dropped to his knees before her. He placed his hands on her thighs, and Marcella leaned back in the chair, her eyes wide. “Here?”
Reginald gently coaxed the silky fabric up Marcella’s legs until he unveiled her creamy thighs. The lady flushed, and her hazel eyes darted to the door. “What if someone walks in?”
“They shouldn’t,” Reginald replied. “Everyone is in bed.”
He bent his head and kissed the inside of her soft thigh. Marcella groaned and threw back her head. Reginald smiled to himself and took her waist, pulling Marcella nearer. He kissed her thigh again and traced the curves of her hips through the fabric of the gown.
Marcella gasped, as Reginald traced a finger up her thigh, moving nearer to that place where he knew his lovely bride most desired his touch. Marcella quivered. “Oh, Reginald!”
“I haven’t even really begun yet,” he purred.
