CHAPTER20
“Tell me again about why Arturd denounced your intentions to pursue historical research.”
Izzy wrinkled her nose at Zachary’s insulting pet name for Arthur and tried to squelch a bubble of laughter. “You are wicked,” she said without heat. “It is not nice to call him that.”
“It was not nice of him to discourage an intelligent woman from making good use of her clever mind,” her husband countered smoothly as he massaged the bridge of her foot with his thumbs beneath the bath water. “Nor was it nice of him to throw you over in favor of an American fortune. And yet he did. Trust me,cariad, there are far worse names I can think of to call him. I am showing remarkable restraint.”
She could not deny that she liked his protectiveness toward her. “I suppose I should thank you for your restraint, in that case.”
He gave her a slow grin, never ceasing in his ministrations. “You may thank me however you wish.”
“Thank you,” she said primly, knowing full well what he was suggesting.
“That was not quite what I had in mind,” he countered, taking her ankle in a gentle hold and pulling her toward him in the massive tub.
She went willingly, straddling his lap as if she were accustomed to cavorting naked in a bath with her husband every day. In truth, this was the first time she had ever bathed with another. Still, she could not deny he was making her feel quite at ease with him. Such intimacy was new to her.
As was trusting him.
Since the day before, they had been spending all their time in bed. The miserable rains and gloomy chill continued, which gave them the perfect excuse to remain within the house and occupy themselves with distractions other than cycles and Roman ruins. They had not even bothered to find their way to the grotto for a swim, but Izzy did not mind.
There was no place she would rather be than here and now, on her husband’s lap.
They had reached an unspoken agreement over the course of their honeymoon, and the complications of the past were, for the moment, suspended. They were instead enjoying the time they had together, leaving the hurts and fears behind. Perhaps abandoning them forever, even.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pleased at the lack of discomfort in her wounded arm, and kissed him soundly. “Is that what you prefer, my lord?”
“Nomy lords,” he growled, his hands on her waist, then gliding wet and slippery up her naked back. “And you never answered my question about why that bastard told you not to pursue your passions.”
She sighed, not wishing to think of Arthur now. Or ever again. “He has lofty political aspirations. He was afraid that having a wife who published scholarly papers would be unseemly and reflect poorly upon him.”
“In other words, he was an arsehole,” Zachary concluded grimly.
She could not tamp down her chuckle at his frankness. “Yes.”
“More of that,” he said, his expression intent, hands still slowly roaming up and down her spine.
“More of what?”
“Your laughter.” He kissed the corner of her lips. “Your smiles.”
He was making it so difficult not to love him.
She hadn’t stopped, of course. The feelings had always been there, simmering beneath the surface of every moment. But it had been far easier to control that love, to tuck it away and keep it from her thoughts, when she had been clinging to her anger. When her resentment and fear had kept the love so steadfastly at bay.
“You make me smile,” she admitted softly, suddenly aware of the eroticism inherent in their position.
Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and his thick cock was prodding her belly. She wondered if lovemaking was possible in the bath.
“I am glad,cariad.” One of his hands settled on her hip, anchoring there, while the other traveled higher, until his fingers were buried in the hair at the nape of her neck. “I aim to always make you happy.”
He did. Their honeymoon thus far had been an idyllic series of days spent getting to know each other better, kissing each other senseless and making love and eating delicious food, of holding hands and sharing heated glances and happiness.
“Am I to understand you would not object if I wished to return to my studies one day? If I wished to pursue an education or scholarly writing, would you discourage it?” she asked, thinking she already knew the answer and yet needing the confirmation of his words.
He could not be more different from Arthur. And she was thankful for that.
“Christ no.” He searched her gaze with his. “Fortunately, unlike your former betrothed, I have the nous to understand a woman with a clever mind is something to be celebrated rather than hidden and undermined.”
