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“I still want to throttle you half the time.”
“All part of my charm.”
The noise she made—a little snort like one of the pigs she was so fond of—was adorable. He did not tell her this, and congratulated himself on his restraint. He also did not tell her how beautiful she was, or how he longed to bask in her joy, or how the world was lovelier with her in it.
“The duchess will bring Lucy out at her ball,” she said, more quietly. “And if Lucy behaves herself, she can stay with her for the Season. That will be the problem of Lucy solved for now.”
“And in a few more days, after I secure my alibis, the problem of Bolderwood will be solved too,” he said. “Then it will all be over.”
“Yes. It will all be over.”
He found nothing to say to that, so nothing was what he said. She shifted, spread her hand over his chest as though seeking comfort, and rested her head on his shoulder. Even like that, she enveloped him. Even more so when she leaned into him, slid her lips over his jaw and down his throat, and he knew it had been futile to think he could stay away.
And why should he, anyway? Just this little touch made him ready for her. His cock was more than happy to service her, to give her all the seed she wanted. That should be enough. It was enough. He wanted nothing more from her anyway.
He closed his eyes, let his head fall back, let his world narrow down to her explorative caresses, the press of her softness against him. Her very essence seemed to coil about him like a warm, fragrant mist. She parted his robe, letting in the evening air then chasing it away with her touch, as she feathered an exquisite trail downward until her hand bumped against his erection.
“Won’t you tell me why you’re upset?” she whispered.
“I’m not upset.”
“My dear, sensitive husband.”
“Sensitive?” Outrage had him opening his eyes, trying to ignore her teasing hand. “I am not sensitive. I am never sensitive. I am strong and tough and fierce and…Oh.” The wondrous woman curled her fingers firmly around his shaft. “And hard,” he finished on a rough breath.
“Very hard. Andverysensitive.” Her grip was both firm and gentle, her eyes watchful. “Do you like it when I do that?”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
She held on tight, stroked up his length, did it again.
“Oh dear. Do you not like to be teased?” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Shall I stop?”
He laughed, all breathy and groaning, which made her laugh too. She shifted onto her knees beside him, never letting him go, and he turned his face to her as helplessly as a sunflower to the sun. She kissed him, slow and sensuous, tugging his lower lip between hers, flicking him with her tongue.
“You should visit me at Sunne Park,” she whispered against his mouth.
Through the fog of his desire, he thought:Yes, and then he thought,Why does she want me there?
“What for?” he managed to say.
“I’d like you to see it. It’s a beautiful old house, and the gardens are spectacular. It’s not even a day from Birmingham. You could bring some work. You can have Papa’s study. I’ll show you my secret arbor.”
“I’ve seen your secret ’arbor,” he said. “I dock my boat there every night.”
She squeezed him and he yelped, but grinned anyway. His whole body was grinning.
“I could still throttle you,” she warned.
“I’m almost looking forward to it.”
But this—this was even better. He closed his eyes, soaking up the sensations, her hand stroking his cock, her mouth nipping at his jawline and sliding down his throat. Then down his chest, his ribcage working overtime as his body demanded more air, her tongue flicking over his nipples, her hair teasing him, her nose bumping him, her mouth gliding down, down, toward his belly.
He fought with himself, and did not know if he had won or lost when he opened his eyes and caught her face in his hands.
“Cassandra, love, you don’t have to. I was teasing.”
Her playful smile stirred his blood to a new level of heat. “But I do owe you.”
