“But I would have.” He wrenched the trousers open, heedless of flying buttons, and shimmied them down her legs. “It’s our wedding night. We must consummate our union properly.”
“Have you forgotten we already did?” she wondered, pulling him down to her, wrapping herself around him. “Last night in the library?”
“I will never forget last night in the library,” he murmured low in her ear, making her shiver.
“Me neither,” she whispered in his, nipping his earlobe.
He arranged her legs around his waist, marveling at how easily, how naturally their bodies fit together. How right it felt sinking into her softness, her snugness, her slick heat, so right and so good that a deep, animal sound was drawn from his throat.
An indecorous sound, that. But he didn’t try to stifle it. Why should he?
He was right where he belonged. There was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to conceal. The way he and Claire were together, the things she made him feel, the man she’d helped him become—all was just as it ought to be.
He was just who he ought to be.
“Mmm,” she hummed in approval when he began moving inside her. “Slow and tender is nice.”
“I told you so.”
“But I liked fast and demanding, too.”
“We can do that next.”
“And I should still like to unman you.”
He laughed. “We’ll have time for that as well. We’ve got all night, remember?”
“We’ve got all night,” she echoed with a blissful sigh. “And the rest of our lives.”
“And the rest of our lives,” he agreed, taking her lips in a kiss.
Twenty-One
Twineham Park
Saturday, 1st January 1820
2 o’clock in the afternoon. — Deepest apologies for the long absence, Diary! I confess I’ve been too busy and happy to write. And I fear this is to be my final entry in your pages, for my New Year’s gift from Jonathan was a new diary to replace the one I ‘thrashed’ (his word). It’s exquisite, all of marbled, gold-edged Venetian paper he purchased abroad, and lately had bound and stamped with my new moniker (C.R. for Claire Rathborne). I cannot wait to write in it!
Oh, but never think you shall be eclipsed, my cherished friend! As promised, I’ve made you a little jacket of green silk, embroidered with a lovely frieze of mistletoe and oranges. I plan to wrap you up all splendid and snug, and keep you in a place of honor on my mantle, as a happy reminder of Jonathan’s and my first Christmas together (for, of course, the previous one is to be entirely forgotten).
But before you’re put away, I’ve something of a very striking nature to confide in you! I’ve been itching to do so ever since the episode occurred, but alas, I simply have not had a moment to myself. It’s all been a whirl of celebrating, packing, unpacking, receiving visitors—and that was before my siblings came to stay!
Thankfully, my ever-gallant husband (husband!) has today contrived for me a couple hours of peace. After luncheon he announced himself desirous of a nice, long walk now that the snow has melted, and proposed to tour our guests all round his finest woods. Elizabeth, of course, leapt at the idea; and while he prevailed upon the others to join—even Rachael in her delicate condition—with a covert wink I was encouraged to stay behind and “rest.”
The dear, clever man! I cannot remember making mention of my wish for solitude, yet somehow, he just knew. He understands me on a level so profound, so unerring, I could almost swear he sees directly into my very so
Half past. — Well. I may have slightly overestimated my husband’s perceptivity.
Hmmph.
It would appear Jonathan did not, in fact, look into my soul, nor did he devise an elaborate scheme to grant my secret wish, nor indeed, had he any notion of said wish’s existence. All of this was made clear to me on his bursting into my dressing room, not ten minutes after having left the house, with a certain gleam in his eye…
When I asked what on earth he was doing here, he responded with amazement. Regarding me as though I were the thick one, he explained that after delivering our guests into the capable hands of his gamekeeper, he’d dashed back to me so we could take advantage of the empty house to?—
La, I cannot write it without blushing! You know.
Naturally, I was taken aback by his notion, for I’d assumed there was a prohibition on such activities during daylight hours. But he insisted there wasn’t, and though skeptical, I allowed him a chance to prove his theory.
