“I’m fine,” he said. “But very hungry.”
“I’ll ring for food,” she said and turned to pull the bell.
“You may want to be finding some clothes for me,a stór.Else, I’ll be quite naked when the footman arrives with breakfast.”
She blinked a moment and then a sheepish smile slid over her face. “Oh. I’d forgotten about that.”
“Here I am, wearing the clothes God gave me, and my wife can’t even appreciate it,” he teased. “’Tis a blow to my pride, indeed.”
“I don’t even know where your clothes are.” She started to laugh. “I think you’d better get back into bed before—” A knock sounded at the door, and she blurted out, “Cormac, hide!”
Instead, he stood behind a wingback chair. “Come in,” he called out. Quite honestly, he was enjoying Emma’s mortification. He paid the servants well enough that they would never dare to say a word.
“My lord, my lady,” the footman said. “How can I be of service?”
“We’d like to have breakfast here, John,” he told the footman. “Could you have Cook prepare our food?”
“Right away, my lord.” He inclined his head and closed the door.
“Cormac, you—you can’t—”
“Be naked when my servants bring me breakfast?” he questioned. “I do pay them quite well.”
“What if a maid had answered the door?” She seemed to bemoan his unclothed state. “If you won’t get back into bed, then we’ll have to find you some clothes quickly.”
He moved across the room and caught her by the waist, pulling her close. Her face flamed, but she didn’t move. “Will you help dress me?”
“I—well, if you need my assistance, I suppose I could try—”
He cut off her words with a kiss. The honeysuckle scent of her skin and the taste of her lips made him want to drag her back into bed. He remembered the delicate feeling of her own naked body against his own, and his desire flared.
She kissed him back, but her hands rested between them like a shield. Despite his efforts to seduce her, she pulled back. “Clothes first. Then kissing.”
He gave a slow smile. “Do you promise?”
“Where are your small clothes? And your trousers?”
“I don’t know if I remember,” he hedged. “My valet usually takes care of them.”
She started opening drawers and then let out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t tell what any of these are.” Then she turned back to him and demanded, “I need your help.”
He decided to stop his teasing and instead went to find undergarments and trousers. After he dressed, he pulled out a shirt and handed it to Emma.
“Will you help me put this on,a stór?”
She lifted it over his head, which put her arms around him, as he’d wanted. “What does that mean?”
“It’s Irish for my treasure or my darling.” He put his arms into the sleeves and then drew her hands to the buttons. She fastened them one by one, and the touch of her hands on his chest only deepened his desire.
Then he went to sit in the chair and pulled her into his lap. “Time for more kissing.”
Her day dress was made of thin muslin, and he could feel the curves of her body against the fabric. She did kiss him back, and when her tongue threaded with his, he murmured against her lips, “I don’t think I’m wanting breakfast anymore.”
“Are you feeling unwell again?” she whispered.
“Nay. I’m wanting to feast upon you instead,” he answered. “I want to taste every inch of your skin.”
She exhaled sharply, and it was then that two footmen arrived with their food and tea. Emma instructed him to place the trays on a small table, and Cormac could smell the delicious aroma of eggs, sausage, and what appeared to be scones and jam.
