She gasped, her head back, exposing her neck for my mouth to discover. “This is most scandalous.”
“Indeed.” I placed kisses along the column of her throat. Supporting our weight with one hand flat against the cool stone, I continued to glide in and out of her pussy, her inner muscles clutching my length. The strains of the music still floated in the air, along with an unwelcome drop of rain.
“Oh bother,” she murmured, her arms clutching my shoulders, her hips rolling with a frantic rhythm. “Do not stop.”
“I will not stop, my love.” Holding back was difficult, and I waited until she shuddered before I allowed the pleasure to flow. There had been no other pregnancies since Harry, thus we took no precautions. If, by some miracle, another child came our way, I would be ecstatic.
Silence settled between us, broken only by falling rain and our heavy breathing. I pressed a kiss to her parted lips and withdrew from her body.
With a slight smile, she remained with her back against the stone edifice. “That was quite nice.”
“Very fulfilling.” Taking out my handkerchief, I handed it to her and righted my own clothes. Lately, I’d sensed she wasn’t fulfilled by our marriage, and unfortunately, being gone from the house hadn’t helped. My chest swelled with pride that she had allowed me liberties outside of the bedroom. It gave me hope that she might be more adventurous in the future. I was by no means a degenerate, however, after twenty years, I wanted to explore our passions more.
The spark between us was alive. Now I needed to enflame the tinder of my wife’s desires.
Chapter Three
Lord Flynn, Earl of Larsson
The cool night air drifted into the foyer at Smythington House from the open door, where a carriage awaited to take two of my three daughters home. I nodded to the butler before trotting down the stairs to the waiting carriage, my youngest daughter Beatrix in my arms. Her sister Camille trailed behind us.
“Papa, why do I have to leave and Karen gets to stay?” Camille said with a decided pout. At fourteen and the middle child, she wanted to do everything her older sister did.
“Because Karen is sixteen,” Beatrix mumbled in a sleepy voice.
I entered the carriage where the girl’s nanny was waiting for them before Camille could argue further. The older woman smiled at me as I settled Beatrix on the seat next to her. Gearing myself up for the upcoming argument, I climbed out to meet Camille’s obstinate stare.
“She is two years older than me, not ten,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes.
I knelt before her petite frame, my love for her never-ending despite her stubborn nature. I wiped the tears away with my finger. “In two years, you can stay later. For now, don’t rush your youth.”
“I am no longer a little girl.” With a quivering lower lip, she exhaled a long, dramatic breath, which made her look even younger.
“You will always bemylittle girl.” I stood upright and placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her in for a hug. She stood stiff for a moment before returning my embrace. My daughters were my salvation after Mary died, and we all still felt her loss. I kissed the top of Camille’s head before pulling back, wishing Mary was here. She always seemed to know the right thing to say. “Now it is time to leave,” I said.
Shoulders drooping, she turned and entered the carriage. A part of me wanted to give in to her pleas. I had to stand my ground. Soon enough, she would be an adult, but not yet.
“Good night, my love,” I said, rocking back on my heels on the cobbled walkway. Another couple exited the house and nodded to me before entering the carriage behind my daughters. While I lived across the green from Smythington House, it wasn’t safe to walk at night, hence the carriage.
“Good night, Papa.” She disappeared into the interior.
The servant shut the door before I nodded to the coachman to move on. After it left, I stared up at the house, contemplating the wisdom of going back inside. Perhaps I should fetch Karen and go home. Tonight had been about old memories, some of them pleasant and others full of regret. But I had already disappointed one of my daughters and I didn’t wish to upset the other.
Obligation set my feet returning to the house. Music swelled, and voices became louder as I ascended the stairs. I entered the ballroom and spied Olivia’s familiar figure, her back to me. She was a comely brunette with an impressive bosom. Not that I should be looking, except it was hard not to. I ducked out of the room and ventured through the cardroom instead. Cowardly,yes. Lately, she has been persistent in her desire to force my hand into marriage.
