“Don’t, please.” She needed him to understand how serious this was. “This is important to me.”
“Why are you afraid? Is there something the matter with your uncle?”
“No, there’s nothing wrong with Nigel. But I can’t understand why he would want custody of small children, at his age. Something feels wrong about this.”
“Royce and Victoria are under my protection. You needn’t fear.” Stephen took her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “I’ll look into the matter. I’ll go and talk to your uncle myself, if you wish.”
She forced herself to calm down. He’d given her his promise. It would have to be enough for now. “Thank you.”
Stephen sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. “Earlier today, Royce told me about your former butler Anant.”
“Anant Paltu. He worked for us a few years ago.”
“If Mr. Paltu still lives in the village, I want to pay him a call tomorrow morning,” Stephen said.
“Why?”
“He may know something about the tattoo on my neck.” He loosened his collar, revealing it to her. “Royce claimed that Mr. Paltu accompanied your brother on his trip to India.”
She knew Daniel had got the marking in India but had never questioned why or what it meant.
“It’s not a coincidence that both of us have the tattoos,” Stephen said. “It makes me wonder about the connection.”
“What do you think the mark means?”
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” He stifled a yawn, and then took her hand, pulling her forward. “Come to bed.”
Her face turned scarlet. How could he think of such a thing now? She kept her feet anchored in place, refusing to move. “We discussed this. It’s far too soon for me.”
A smug look overcame his face. “That wasn’t what I had in mind, dear wife.”
“Then what did you have in mind?”
“I’ll show you.” He stood and beckoned for her to follow. He led her down a corridor and upstairs. At the door to their bedchamber, he waited. His shirt collar remained loose from where he’d revealed the tattoo. The sight of his skin made her remember what it was like to touch him.
She waited at the threshold, shaking her head. “Why do I sense this is not a good idea?”
“You are entirely too suspicious,” he remarked. Once inside, he sat down and removed his coat, waistcoat, and shoes. “I am the one at your mercy, not the other way around. You might try to force yourself upon me.”
He laid back upon the pillow, his eyes mischievous. “I am willing to risk it, however. You should remove your dress and those damned petticoats first.”
“No.” She wasn’t fooled at all by him. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe. “Whatever you have to say can be said without me disrobing.”
He sighed and caught her wrists. “Trust me, Emily.”
“I don’t trust you at all.” And yet, she let her hands fall to her sides, while he unbuttoned her dress. “Why is it that every time I am alone with you, you keep trying to remove my clothing?”
“Because it’s fun?” he suggested. Turning serious, he continued, “You cannot sleep in that contraption.”
“Sleep?” The idea of sinking into a soft bed was as appealing as a dish of strawberry ice. “But it’s still late afternoon. They’ll be expecting us for supper. And what about the children?”
“Farnsworth will hold our supper for us. And I feel certain that he won’t deny the children their food.” He helped her lift away the heavy petticoats and crinoline before unlacing her stays. Then he leaned back upon the vast bed, patting the pillow beside him.
Emily climbed into bed wearing only her chemise and drawers. He pulled her close. “This is nice,” he said. His arms surrounded her, warm and strong. The spicy scent of his shaving soap made her want to snuggle into his neck. “I slept little last night, between Victoria’s crying and your snoring outside the door.”
“I do not snore.”
“Of course you do. And if you snore while I am napping, I’ll be sure to kick you.” His hand moved below the curve of her breast, his mouth upon her cheek.
