She laughed again, a sound he had come to love. Her happiness had become profoundly important to him. Making her happy basically made him happy. It was as simple as that. As for children, he saw no reason to believe they would not eventually appear. Maybe even after tonight.
He propped himself on his elbows and lowered his head to take an erect nipple in his mouth. Louisa gasped, her spine arching as he scraped his teeth over the hardened peak. Maxwell’s stomach muscles tightened. His desire for his lovely wife had been quietly simmering for most of the evening. Now, the musky smell of her, the natural way she responded to him, and her soft mewls of pleasure, rendered him as hard as steel.
He continued his explorations, trailing kisses down to the triangle of soft curls at the apex of her thighs. Then he laid her open to his tongue, teasing and tasting the sweetness of her. He used his thumb as well, flicking and circling the sensitive nub as she writhed in his grasp.
“Max, please,” she whispered, her head tipped back. “I want you inside me.”
He answered with a low growl and slid up to cover her body, stifling her cry of pleasure with a kiss as he sank into her with a single thrust. Then, arms braced, he lifted his head to watch her as he ground his hips to hers, thrusting slow and deep.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all evening,” he said.
“Mmm, I know.”
“How do you know?”
“The way you looked at me over dinner and afterwards in the parlor.”
“Was I that obvious?”
Eyes glazed with pleasure, she smiled lazily. “To me, yes.”
Parting with another growl, he slid his hands down to cradle her buttocks, holding her steady against him as he continued to thrust. She matched his movements, her soft moans of pleasure driving Maxwell to near madness.
“Louisa,” he murmured. It was a plea for mercy, a demand for her release before he lost all control.
Her responding whisper brushed hotly across his throat. “Yes, Max. Oh,yes.”
Her body went rigid as her sex pulsed hard around his cock, sending him hurtling into ecstasy.
Later, in the depths of night, Maxwell awoke from a sound sleep and, as usual, his mind began to rove. Had he been at Northcott Manor, he’d have slid from the bed and sought his own or, more likely, wandered downstairs to his office. Here, he could neither, so he lay still and allowed his thoughts to drift.
Beside him, Louisa shifted slightly in her sleep, snuggling closer while parting with a sigh that spoke clearly of contentment. Maxwell smiled into the darkness, acknowledging his own, newly found sense of gratification, which had nothing to do with his commercial success. It was simpler, yet more profound, more rewarding. And it was all due to the woman sleeping peacefully at his side. She had become his priority. He would do anything to make her happy.
That admission brought the upcoming Glasgow trip to mind, which coincided with her uncle’s birthday. The oversight was entirely Maxwell’s fault, and he saw no way out of it. At least, not entirely. But maybe he could shorten it and still show up at Myddleton for her uncle’s birthday, albeit a little late. He turned his head and breathed in the soft scent of her hair.
“I’ll try,” he whispered. “I promise I’ll try.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Afortnight afterher twenty-first birthday, Louisa participated in the celebration of her Uncle Isaac’s eightieth. Myddleton House, the Derbyshire seat of the Earl of Hutton, had seen three splendid days of music, dancing, and parlor games within its stately walls, and a fair amount of eating and drinking as well. For Louisa, however, the best part had been spending time with the family she loved so much.
She missed Maxwell terribly, but successfully hid her occasional attacks of despondency a task made easier by the celebratory atmosphere that permeated the entire house. That, and the occasional amusing moment, like the brief conversation that had taken place when Grandmama Hutton had asked after Maxwell.
“A pity he’s not here,” the dowager countess had declared. “I was quite looking forward to having another conversation with him. I’ll admit I was appalled when I first learned about your marriage to this fellow, but he’s actually quite charming for someone of his class.”
“I’m glad you think so, Grandmama,” Louisa replied, biting back an urge to laugh. Had Maxwell just been complimented, or insulted? “I know he thinks well of you also.”
The old lady had looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would he not?” she responded.
Uncle Isaac’s actual birthday had been the day before, and the celebrations had gone on well into the small hours. Now, in the late afternoon of this fourth day—a Sunday—things had substantially calmed down, much to Louisa’s relief. Some of the guests had departed after luncheon. Of those who remained, the men, with the exception of her uncle, her father, and Josiah, had gone pheasant-shooting, while several of the ladies, her Aunt Eleanor included, had retired for an afternoon nap. Josiah and her uncle were in the billiard room. Everyone else, with Louisa, had gathered in the Crimson Parlor to share conversation, read, or play card games. Partnered with Evie, Louisa had just lost a third game of Whist to her father, who was partnered with Clara.
“Another?” her father asked, shuffling the cards.
“Absolutely, Papa,” Clara replied, and pulled a face at her twin sister. “We’re on a winning-streak.”
Louisa rose to her feet. “Thank you, but not for me. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a little turn around the room and stretch my legs.”
“Of course,” her father replied, still shuffling. “I’m sure we can find someone to take your place. Catherine, how about you?”
