“Does that suit?” Nerves enter his voice that weren’t there before. “If you’d rather travel away, I can certainly make that happen, my love. But I thought—”
“You thought right,” I assure him, letting my shoulder rest against his. “There’s nothing I’d love more than to go home with you.”
He lets out a happy hum, his hand curling over the top of mine. I wish I could feel the heat of him without the glove in the way. Soon enough.
The buggy pulls up in front of a beautiful manor a mere half an hour later. The façade is light tan, windows placed in every direction, the home made of more rooms than the two of us could ever need.
“Arthur,” I say, astounded. “This is where you live?”
He brings my hand to his mouth to place a gentle kiss over my glove. “Where we live. May I show you?”
I nod, allowing Arthur to help me from the buggy. He leads me to the front door, opening it himself, walking me from room to room as I take everything in. It’s opulent, furnished in the finest trappings, and yet still, every detail is warm and inviting, reminding me of Arthur himself.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, the two of us ascending the stairs.
“I asked the staff to give us privacy while we settled in. Is that all right?”
“Yes,” I say, throat happily tight. “It’s quite perfect, actually.”
His smile is softly pleased.
Arthur leads me to the master bedroom, opening the door and standing just inside as I walk the space. The bed is covered in red linens, the coverlet red and gold. Plush chairs sit to either side of the bed, wardrobes next to each. Past windows that overlook the front lawn is a vanity made of fine mahogany wood with a soft tufted stool in front. A large mirror is attached, the piece not something Arthur would have needed for himself. Which means he placed it here for me. In anticipation of my arrival.
A soft rug passes underfoot as I recross the room, Arthur watching me carefully.
He accepts my hand as I near. “You can change anything you like.”
I shake my head. Our possessions are of no matter. Not truly. “It’s lovely,” I tell him, knowing the thought Arthur put into it is unmatched.
The worry in his expression eases, the barest hint of early silver beside his temples the only indication of Arthur’s age. I’ve never minded the ten years that separate us. If anything, I’m glad for Arthur’s wisdom and patience, even if he doesn’t care for the gray hairs I find so charming.
I run my fingers through those hairs lightly. “Would you kiss me, husband? The one time I met your lips today was not nearly enough.”
Arthur’s mouth curves into a smile before he cups my face, leans close, and kisses me softly. He’s always so soft. So sweetly affectionate. I’ve never felt anything but loved in his arms. Even in the times where his mischief comes out to play.
He breaks from my lips but doesn’t go far. “Would you like to get rid of this corset now?”
I whine in relief, and Arthur chuckles.
“Turn around then.”
I go gladly, Arthur’s lips meeting my neck as he unbuttons my gown for the second time today. Warm fingers trail inside the fabric, teasing my skin. He loosens the corset, and I nearly sag. Arthur goes for the band of my crinoline next.
“Oh, please,” I encourage.
Another chuckle passes over my skin, and then the band is opened around my waist, even as the structured petticoat doesn’t move an inch.
“Here.”
Arthur directs me to the edge of the bed. I lean my weight there as he drops to the floor, lifting my skirts. My pulse skips, the sight of him disappearing under the fabric devilish in the best of ways. He tugs the crinoline loose, helping my legs and feet from it before tossing the entire thing behind him. I laugh as it rolls a ways before coming to a stop.
“That’s better.” Arthur’s words are murmured as his head pops back into view, his hands sliding over my legs. His eyes meet mine as he places a soft kiss atop my knee. “What would you like, my wife?”
My heart skips again for an entirely different reason, my mother’s words returning to me. It’s not hard to see how aroused Arthur is beneath his elegant trousers. “Whatever you desire,” I answer, even as my pulse races. “Do you wish to bed me, husband?”
Arthur stills, his hands warm on my thighs. Perhaps he could hear the tremor in my voice because his own tone is gentle. “Charlotte. We’ve discussed this.”
I nod, swallowing. “Yes, but it’s your wedding night. Surely you’d like to experience all that entails.”
