Sometimes in the wrong fashion entirely, but he refrained from offering that aloud.
Instead, he decided to tease her. “It is not the only reason, I hope.”
“Of course it is not.” Her smile deepened, and there was the dimple that haunted him in his sleep. “I love you for many other reasons as well. Because you are kind, softhearted, and good. Because you laugh at my sallies. Also because you are a wondrous kisser. Because I cannot resist you…hmm…and because you love me too, and because you are going to take me to visit my new siblings when we return to London…”
He frowned. “I appreciate all of those reasons. Save the last. We do not even know if these potential siblings of yours are trustworthy. The man had a blade hidden in his walking stick, for heaven’s sake.”
“He is well-prepared,” she argued in true Christabella Winter fashion.
Strike that.
In true ChristabellaCoventryfashion.
And that was one of the many reasons whyhelovedher.
She had an indefatigable ability to see the best in everyone. Including him. And damn it, if she wanted to meet these other Winters, these Winters who were most certainly even more wicked than the Wicked Winters could ever hope to be, she would meet them,by God. And he would accompany her. But first, he had to see about commissioning a walking stick that contained a hidden sword…
“If it is your wish to become acquainted with Mr. Winter and his siblings, it will be done,” he told her.
“Truly?” she asked, her smile deepening.
“Truly,” he vowed, and then could not resist kissing that dimple of hers. “Whatever Her Grace wishes, Her Grace gets. By the rules of the house.”
Her smile turned naughty then. “I like the rules of the house. Because right now, what I want more than anything is my husband.”
Just like that, his cock was rigid and ready once more.
“Then your husband you shall have, my darling.” He kissed her.
She opened for him, her tongue meeting his. Her fingers sank into his hair as she pulled him even closer. He inhaled deeply of her scent. Blossoms and summer sun and everything bold and bright and wonderful. Everything that was filled with hope.
He inhaled that hope, and he kissed her with everything he had. They had been practicing, after all. The nights had been long, staying on those bloody uncomfortable inn beds, not making love to his wife as he longed. But he had been determined. Stubborn, it was true. He wanted their first time—both of their first times—to be perfect.
He wanted to begin their life together where they would live it out, and where he felt most comfortable—at his country seat. This was a place of hard work and joy. It was just the place for a new start.
They moved as one, kissing, crossing the chamber, moving slowly toward the bed. His fingers found the knot of her dressing gown, plucking it open. The ends of her robe gaped, and he slid it from her shoulders. The night rail she wore beneath was thin and soft, so bloody soft. But not as soft as her skin. He absorbed her heat, her curves. Every inch of her he could.
He was so lost in her, in fact, that he walked them right into the bed without realizing it. They lost their balance and fell, together, upon it. He used his arms to leverage himself, attempting not to crush her. Their lips parted. Mutual laughter bubbled up, ringing forth.
Damn, but he loved her laugh.
He lovedher, and it was at least the thousandth time he had entertained just such a sentiment in the last few weeks, but it was every bit as true.
“My seduction of you is decidedly not going according to plan,” he admitted, falling into her green-blue eyes the same way he had fallen into the bed. “I feel like an oaf.”
Her tender smile pierced his heart. “You do not resemble an oaf in the slightest, my darling husband.”
“Did I injure you?” he asked, searching her face.
He felt certain he had borne the brunt of their impact. She did not appear winded.
She giggled again. “No. Now do stop fretting and make love to me.”
A more promising invitation had never been issued, he was sure. His cock twitched to life once more as he realized he was settled nicely between her thighs. Just where he longed to be. He was not a practiced rake like his brother, but he was fairly confident he could follow his instincts and bring both of them great pleasure. The time leading up to and following their nuptials had not precisely been chaste, even if they had not consummated their relationship.
“As you command, Your Grace,” he told her, and then he could not resist dipping his head to kiss her sweet lips once more.
She kissed him back, their tongues mating. He could kiss her like this forever, he thought. But there were other, equally delicious places to press his mouth upon her body. To taste her. He kissed down her throat and then peeled his body away from hers long enough to whip her night rail over her head.
