“If necessary, I shall lock the bugger in his room.”
She laughed, then cringed and caught her chest. “Do not make me laugh.” But the pleasure in her tone softened the scolding. “I could probably make it down the stairs all right.”
“Either I carry you both ways or you do not go to the garden at all.” Elias waited for her to accept his non-negotiable terms.
“You have become a great deal more assertive since our vows.” She eyed him with a teasing look he found immensely stirring. “I haven’t decided if I like such assertiveness or not.”
He leaned in for a slow, thorough kiss. When he drew back, he smiled at the high coloring on her cheeks. “I am merely being a good husband, my love.”
Before he straightened, she caught hold of his shirt and pulled him in for another heated kiss, entwining her tongue with his. “I shall be glad when we can be good together,” she said in a breathless whisper across his lips.
“I as well, my lioness.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, struggling to regain control of the yearning that raged just below the surface, anxiously waiting to be unleashed. “I shall send in Berta and order our picnic.”
Her coy smile inflamed him even more. “Yes, my love.”
*
Celia luxuriated inElias cradling her against his muscular chest as he carried her into the gardens—to the spot beside the waterfall where she had not only given him her virtue but also finally accepted his capture of her heart. Several blankets were spread on the ground. Carefully stacked piles of pillows created a pleasing lounge for two.
She arched a brow at him. “Really? You chose this very spot?”
“What better place, my love?” His attempt at appearing innocent failed miserably.
“Indeed.” She couldn’t resist a soft giggle. After he gently deposited her onto their pillowed nest, she smoothed out the folds of her black dress and frowned down at them. “I wonder if this would be considered an improper activity for those in mourning?”
“It is your private garden,” he said. “What others think does not matter.”
The servants had also somehow found a short-legged table for setting in their midst. It was covered with a fine linen tablecloth embroidered with tiny roses and everything needed for the perfect picnic. A plentiful assortment of delicate finger sandwiches, sweetmeats, cakes, tea, and even a small decanter of pale golden brandy waited for them.
“Brandy or tea, my love?” Elias sat closest to the table and cut her off with a stern arch of his brow when she started to argue that she should be the one serving. “Brandy or tea, and which sandwiches and cakes do you prefer?”
“How did you know what I was going to say?” She nodded at the teapot. “And I shall start with tea, please, and perhaps a small slice of the lemon cake.”
“I knew what you were going to say because your eyes not only show me your soul but also mirror your thoughts and feelings.” He handed her the tea and cake, then served himself. “By the way, your brother’s funeral was the day before yesterday. What with the summer heat and his condition after the highwaymen finished with him, it was better that it take place in a timely manner—even before the announcement hit the papers.”
She took a sip of her tea, then frowned down at the delicate golden cake. Her appetite suddenly left her. “Poor Friedrich. In a grave marked with another man’s name. Do you think he will haunt us?”
“Only our memories and nightmares.” He offered her the salver of sweetmeats, but she declined. “What is it, love? You have that look.”
“Where were you on the night of myattackoutside the Pleasure Gardens? Will people not ask about that, since I am now your wife? I do not wish you to appear to be a coward.”
“I believe Monty covered that by saying you and I had a rather spirited disagreement that night, and you sent me packing, then off you went to the gardens with Lady Sophie just to spite me.”
“Did I? How terribly foolish of me. No wonder I was attacked.” Celia found the story mildly irritating. While she didn’t wish him to be emasculated by the scheme, nor did she wish to be portrayed as a mindless ninny. “And then, I suppose, my injuries made us realize our undying love and marry immediately?”
“Something like that.” He leaned in close and gently caressed her cheek. “The scheme has worked admirably, my love, and I see no reason why it should not continue. We must play this opportunity with all the grace and intelligence you and your mother commanded for so many years.” The love in his eyes melted her worries away. “We can do this.”
An exaggerated cough came to them through the hedges. Celia shifted among the pillows and called out, “Gransdon? Is that you?”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler emerged from the leafy maze, his long face more sour than usual. “Lady Bournebridge and her daughter, Lady Temperance, would like to offer their condolences.”
Celia turned to Elias. “When did you say the announcement was to hit the papers?”
His suspicious scowl mirrored her concerns. “This very morning,” he said. “Could they not just leave a card?” Elias asked the butler.
“No, my lord.” Gransdon’s displeased pucker deepened. “They are in the drawing room. They vehemently insisted on seeing either yourself or Her Grace. Do forgive me, but I felt Her Grace should not be disturbed and that such an untimely meeting would be better handled by yourself, my lord.”
“Quite correct, Gransdon. That cackling old hen and her daughter merely want to be the first to confirm the gossip.” Elias rose.
