Much, much later.
He finally had Grace all to himself, and had no intention of wasting any of these precious moments.
“Well, that was generous of them,” Grace said, giving him a shy smile from the other side of the carriage, which, Ramsey decided, was much too far away.
He stood up and took a seat beside her, and with a grin, lifted her legs under her knees and placed them over his, pulling her in tight. “Much better.”
Grace had gasped slightly, but recovered with a pleased smile. “Much better,” she agreed.
It was a sweet torture, having her so close. He allowed himself the pleasure of teasing a single finger along the line of her jaw, watching as her lips dropped open just enough for him to give her an inviting kiss, if he wished, but he restrained himself and simply gloried in the kind of tension that builds before you experience something you’ve anticipated for a long while.
Her breathing was short and her eyes took on a glazed expression that made his body hungry, his soul hungry, his entire being desperately hungry.
The carriage hit a bump in the road, blessedly distracting him from the temptation of Grace. His finger burned where he touched her, and he noted the rosy hue her skin took on after his gentle caress. It was fascinating, deliriously erotic, how one touch could do so much, create so much need. It only took one match to light a fire, and the same was true for desire: it only took one touch, and sometimes just a look.
“Ramsey.” Grace whispered his name.
Dear Lord, how he loved hearing his name on her lips. He wanted to taste it there, to tear it from her as she cried out in pleasure. But for now, he simply met her warm gaze and replied with a simple, “Yes?”
Her gaze searched his, her need for him written as clearly in her expression as if it were jotted down on a page. “How far away is your house?”
He chuckled at her transparency, adored her for it. She was his constant spring of refreshment; in a world that worked in secrets, shades of gray, and intrigue, there was Grace. She was artless, and utterly honest to a fault. It was her greatest strength and he was thankful anew for her.
“Not nearly close enough,” he whispered, and then, because he couldn’t resist any longer, he took her lips with his. It was a slow kiss, one meant to prolong and draw out the pleasure of it all. He tipped his head slightly, just enough to capture more of her lips as he kissed her again. One hand reached up to sweep along her shoulders, the other rested on the carriage seat, just to the side of her, while he held on to his sanity and control, tempering himself with an iron grip on the upholstery while he waited.
The idea of purgatory sifted through his mind once more.
Except this was more of heaven than anything else.
Grace leaned into his kiss, her hands trailing up the arms of his coat till they circled around the back of his neck, her fingers teasing his hair. He let out a groan, giving himself over to the pleasure of her touch.
He deepened the kiss; pressing back into her, he reached down with the hand not gripping onto the carriage seat and teased the hem of her skirt as it hung over her legs, which were, subsequently, resting upon his legs. With a wicked grin just before he kissed her again, he trailed his fingers up her stocking-covered ankles, the memories of their earlier encounter flooding through him, setting his body on fire.
As his hand reached up to her knee, he felt her gasp against his lips before leaning back into the kiss with a stronger urgency. He was about to graze the inside of her thigh when the carriage came to a stop.
He slowly released her from their passionate kiss, and watched as realization took hold in her expression. Forcing his body to calm, at least calm enough to make an entrance to their home and subsequently to make it to their bedchamber, he offered a roguish smile. “Welcome home.”
Grace blinked. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and if he could hear her thoughts, he swore it would have been a strong request to continue kissing, but rather than engage in her more amorous nature, she slowly distanced herself and, blushing, said, “I love the way that sounds.”
“As do I,” Ramsey replied, then thinking about the icy cold pond near Glenwood Manor, he straightened his jacket and alighted from the carriage. The staff was waiting for their arrival, as was apparent by the already open door where several of the staff waited with restrained grins.
Grace took his hand, and he reminded himself that the staff only needed a brief presentation of his wife before he could retire to the bedroom. After the introductions were made, and the excuses given—much to the blush of his bride—Ramsey tugged on Grace’s hand, leading her to the stairs. When her pace wasn’t as quick as he judged was imperative, he turned around, lifted her into his arms, and took the stairs at a quicker pace.
In less than five minutes, they had gone from the carriage to the bedroom, and that was the end of their rushing. Now, it was time to slow down every moment, every thought, and every touch. Time would wait for them, inside this room. For once, Ramsey wasn’t concerned about the world around him, their opinions, their thoughts, their whispers—his world was entirely in this room.
His world was smiling at him.
His world was a woman.
The only woman who mattered.
His wife.
