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“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured against her lips a moment before he recaptured them in a searing kiss, branding her once against as his and his alone. Good Lord, she was so sweet; he’d never recover from loving her.
“And you’re the only one burning, are you?” she asked, withdrawing slightly, enough to tease him into leaning forward, searching for her lips. “It wasyouridea to get some fresh air. I was perfectly content at home.”
Rowles opened his eyes and was greeted with a teasing grin from his far-too-tempting wife. He glared at her, even though her words painted such an erotic picture he had difficulty keeping the playful scowl in place. “You’ll pay for that later,” he vowed, then captured her lips once more, devouring her answering smile.
“I’m sure I will. I hope so,” she mumbled against his tormenting kiss.
The carriage slowed and rolled to a stop. Rowles swore softly at being interrupted in kissing his delightful wife, but upon realizing the sooner they finished their outing, the sooner they could return home, he reluctantly released her lips and sighed. “I suppose we’ve arrived.”
“That’s generally what the halt of a carriage means, Your Grace,” she teased, then gave him one final quick kiss.
“Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” He injected his words with a hint of joking sarcasm. Then he took a moment to straighten his rumpled coat, and as his eyes lifted to Joan, a deep swell of satisfaction filled him. Her bee-stung lips were evidently well-loved and her dress was only slightly mussed, but enough that he felt pride in knowing it was all his doing.
And it would be his undoing later.
“Am I presentable?” Joan asked tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Or is it that obvious you assaulted me on the carriage ride over?”
Rowles frowned playfully. “If I remember correctly,youassaultedme.”
“Details.” She waved a hand dismissively.
“Yes, details,” he replied with a flick of her fingers. “If you’re not presentable, it’s entirely your fault.”
“How so?” she asked, but her tone was light and playful.
“Because you’re entirely too tempting, and I cannot be expected to resist any of your charms, ever. So let that be a warning not to tempt me in a way I cannot refuse.”
Joan’s scrutiny lowered to her lap as a blush tinted her cheeks a fetching pink. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It’s a compliment that’s the raw truth, my love.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “And another truth, I hate gloves. I much prefer your skin,” he murmured against her wrist.
“Well, I must say I prefer your skin as well, but in public, social constraints require them.”
“Unfortunate, that.”
Joan shook her head. “Are we ever going to leave the carriage or should we turn back? Wait. No, I didn’t say such a thing.” She laughed.
“Well…”
“No, we must go and see your beloved college, or I fear I’ll never get the official tour you’ve promised. I wish to see the places you love so well.” She shook her head amusedly.
“My wife, a wise woman.” He gave a curt nod of approval. “Shall we?” He stepped from the carriage onto the cobbled stone of St. Andrew’s Street. The white stone buildings lined the walk where people bustled by, likely on the way to a lecture or the library.
Rowles offered his hand to Joan; she took it and stepped down. Her hat was askew, so he tipped it slightly for her, gently so as not to tug too much on the pins holding it in place.
“Thank you,” Joan offered, her skin highlighted by the pale green of her day dress that made her green eyes seem more emerald than usual.
“You’re beautiful.” Rowles kissed her hand before placing it on his arm.
“You’re quite handsome yourself,” she replied.
Rowles laughed. “This will be the quickest tour in the history of all of Cambridge.” He led them down the street. “To distract myself from you, I’m going to explain a little history about Christ’s College.”
“I do love learning from you.”
Rowles turned to her. “I suggest you pay attention since this will be the only time I’m letting you out of our bedroom for the rest of the trip.”
Joan made a show of closing her lips and nodding.
