He moved the tip of his manhood to hover at her slick entrance while his hand palmed her breast. She gasped, the nipple pebbling in his fingertips. Though she tried to bring him inside her, he kept her trapped in place. He moved his mouth against the soft curve above her ribs. Then with his thumb, he teased her womanhood.
She’d gone too far this time, destroying his best pair of boots. And for that, he had to retaliate. Most husbands would punish their wives, but he had a more pleasurable punishment in mind.
He slid a fraction of himself inside her.
“Stephen?” she whispered, her tone begging.
He withdrew, caressing her folds gently. Softly. Tormenting her in the darkest form of sexual pleasure. “Was there something you wanted?”
“You,” she breathed.
He exhaled upon her bare skin, watching her breasts tighten with excitement. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
Emily nodded, lifting her lips to his. Eager and urgent, she reached for him. He took possession of her mouth, and she pressed her body close to his.
His mouth vanquished her lips, and Emily moaned in surrender. If this was his idea of punishment, she intended to be disobedient every day for the rest of their marriage. She had missed this. Like a luscious slice of chocolate cake, he tempted her past all reason.
He ran his mouth over her neck, down to her collarbone and shoulders. His warm tongue tasted her sensitive skin, drawing close to her breasts but not granting her what she needed.
Her womanhood grew damp, and he startled her when he pushed her knees back to her chest. Spreading her apart, he moved on top of her and penetrated deeply. Shocked, she cried out at the wicked sensation.
He drew himself out, excruciatingly slow. Then he thrust within her once again. He pulled back, moving with such tormenting ecstasy that it bordered on pain.
She didn’t know when she had surrendered to him or when she’d allowed him to command her. Somehow, he had regained the upper hand. The new position gave him complete mastery of her body, letting him slide against every inch of her until she thought she would go mad.
She shattered in his arms, the pleasure intensifying with each stroke. He kept up the driving force until she broke apart again, spiraling pleasure fisting deep within. Waves of need burst forth until at last he took his own release.
He wrapped the sheets around her, holding her close. She wept silent tears, for this was what she’d wanted all along. Her husband, loving her again.
But she had tried to use sexual pleasure as a weapon, to keep him from sending the children away. Worse, he knew it.
Her body felt wearier than ever before. Safe in his arms, she closed her eyes. Only for a moment, she thought. She’d sleep for just a moment.
Later that morning, bright sunlight pierced through the bed curtains. Emily awoke, filled with dread at the empty sheets beside her. But when she went to find Stephen and the children, they had already gone.
“I am relying on you to remain with the children and alert me if there is anything suspicious about Mr. Nigel Barrow,” Stephen said to the nursemaid, while the coach continued the journey toward Nigel’s estate. Though nothing had struck him as unusual or wrong, he wanted to be certain that all was well. Servants were notorious for gossiping, and likely, if anything was amiss, Anna would hear about it.
He handed her a sovereign. “I will stay here until Lady Whitmore arrives. Send word to me if anything goes wrong.” Only then could he assess the true character of Emily’s uncle.
The nursemaid cradled the baby in her arms, her eyes wide. “Of course, my lord.”
“After that, I will be in London. I trust that you can get word to me if I am needed.”
She nodded but looked worried.
“I will see to it that you are rewarded for your service,” he reassured her. “An extra year’s wages will be added to your pay.”
Anna’s mouth opened in surprise. “I promise I will take good care of them, my lord. But—” she patted Victoria on the back, her worry deepening “—are you certain Lady Whitmore will come?”
“She will be arriving shortly,” he told the her. He had no doubt that Emily was already on her way to Nigel’s residence. And though she would hate him for this, he had to keep them safe. Nigel, if he was truly the man he seemed, could provide a haven.
The problem was convincing his wife to stay. Never had he met a woman like Emily, so determined and stubborn. He couldn’t drive her from his mind. The way she threatened him, and the way she welcomed him into her arms…Like a seductress, she captivated him. Leaving her soft warmth was harder than he’d thought it would be.
He glanced down at the pair of cracked leather shoes he’d borrowed from a footman. Such foolishness.
By the next afternoon, they arrived at Nigel Barrow’s estate. Robust and jolly, with a set of snowy whiskers, the man greeted them with enthusiasm.
“So glad you’ve come, Whitmore. And the children. Ah, you must be Royce.” Nigel bent down and smiled. “The new Baron Hollingford. You’re the image of your father, I must say.”
