Bending, he kissed her, pouring every emotion he could into that one kiss. It was hungry and familiar, different from the previous, more innocent ones they had shared.
St. Clara’s weak body stirred again as Pippa’s fingers teased the thin hairs of his chest. Their kiss never ended as he pulled her closer, wanting to feel the weight of her breasts against him.
The stirring in his cock reminded him of the French letter that needed disposing of. They also needed to rest so that they could begin their journey back to London in the morning.
Dragging his lips from hers was the hardest thing he had done in years. “We must clean up and sleep. I would like to return to London before next week.”
He begrudgingly pulled himself from his wife to stand, walking to the basin in the corner of the small but comfortable room. Taking his time, he cleaned himself, setting aside the French letter. He longed to be inside of her without the barrier, but he did not wish to dishonor his vow to her.
He hoped that after their night, perhaps she would wish to stay with him forever. There was a prominent part of him that wanted her for eternity and not just a year.
Taking the cloth over to his wife, her eyes widened when she saw his intentions. St. Clara knelt beside her cleaning her gently.
“Chauncey!” she cried, backing away from him. He smiled at hearing his name in that stern tone she often used in the laboratory. “Surely, I can do this myself.”
“But why should you when you have such a willing husband?” He kissed the tip of her nose, unable to stop touching or kissing her.
Slowly, he began cleaning her as she relaxed to his touch. Once he cleaned off all the evidence of their lovemaking, he deposited the cloth and returned to her. She was now safely under the duvet, and he slid in, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She came willingly and placed a kiss to his chest that had his heart soaring with possibility.
“Are you sure we cannot stop at Archer? I should very much like to see it.” Her tone was sweet yet quizzical as she gazed up at him with hope.
Unable to deny her anything, he swallowed before he nodded his agreement. “W-we can stop for a night instead of at an inn.” St. Clara ignored the trepidation building inside of him, the pain of the past creeping up his spine.
Images of his mother and sister standing at the door as his father dragged him away filled his mind. The sound of his mother’s cries the last time he saw her was clearer than his own voice.
A touch to his cheek brought him back from the pains of the past. “Chauncey?” Pippa ran her fingers down the recent growth on his cheek that had accumulated during their busy day. “We can always visit another time. You spoke of it so often when we were children. I’ve always longed to see it one day.”
Kissing her forehead, he inhaled her sweet scent and took comfort in knowing that she would be with him and that it would be no longer than a night. “And you shall see it, but I’m afraid we cannot linger long as I need to return to London?—”
He stopped speaking, nearly revealing that he needed to return to pay Reaper. St. Clara hadn’t exactly revealed the main reason he needed his mother’s inheritance was because he owed a gaming hell owner.
“I know we need to return. I am sure my aunt, Julia, and Beatrice are all worried about me.” She sighed drowsily.
“You could write to them in the morning.” He combed his fingers through her long, dark tresses, trying to recall if he’d ever felt anything as soft. “I always enjoyed receiving letters from you. I’m sure they would as well.”
She giggled sleepily, the sound music to his ears. To him, it meant she was happy and free. It was a noise she made often when they were younger.
“I enjoyed writing you letters and receiving yours as well.” Pippa looked up at him. She had love in her eyes devoid of the anger and pain he had seen the last nine years. Perhaps she would choose to stay with him after all.
He kissed her, slow and steady, enjoying the quiet moment of intimacy with her. Fear of going to Archer Castle loomed over him, but he ignored it. For her, he would face the past.
For her, he would do anything.
Two days after the wedding, St. Clara was finding it very difficult not to touch, kiss, or be inside of his wife. Which was where he currently was. They had just enjoyed a rather intense tryst in their moving carriage, and St. Clara couldn’t find it in himself to part from her body.
Burying his nose in the alcove of her neck, he inhaled her sweet scent into his lungs, his hunger momentarily sated. He dragged his lips up the smooth column of her neck to her ear, capturing her lobe with his teeth, nibbling and sucking gently.
“Chauncey,” she moaned, rocking into him again, threatening to reawaken his now flaccid cock.
He loved when his wife took control of her pleasure, leading them both where she wanted them to be. Pippa had become bolder with each new intimacy they shared, and St. Clara basked in every sweet kiss and agonizing touch.
Taking hold of her nape, he crashed his mouth to hers, astutely aware of his new predicament—he had to discard the French letter in a moving carriage. He couldn’t tear his lips away from hers. She was the distraction he needed to forget the fact that they were only hours away from Archer Castle.
The closer they came to Archer, the more he remembered of his childhood. Memories of happiness in the ostentatious castle were nearly too painful for him to bear. St. Clara couldn’t stop thinking of his mother and sister, especially after his and Pippa’s wedding. For the first time in his life, he wished he had a family to share his happiness with.
St. Clara pressed a final kiss to his wife’s lips. “Thank you for distracting me.” His chuckle was full of amusement. She was the best sort of distraction for him, one he would welcome anytime.
“I thought you were the distraction, Your Grace.” She let out a soft giggle as she leaned in and took his mouth in a slow embrace. Her sensual mouth dragged across his, their tongues dancing a waltz. His spent member stirred, and curse the devil, he wanted her again.
