Once in a while, a jolt of residual pleasure shuddered through me. He pulled me even tighter to him in response with a whispered, “Come here.” A forehead kiss accompanied the gesture. Eventually, our breathing evened out. His fingers trailed through my hair soothingly. I used the opportunity to further explore the sweat-slicked panes of his chest with wanton fingertips. When he finally spoke, his voice was a rumble from his chest.
“I can’t believe you agreed to marry me. That I’ll wake up with you in my arms every morning for the rest of my days. Juliet, every time I look at you, I think I couldn’t possibly love you more. Then I see you again and I do.”
“Michael…” My own voice was thick against the emotions rising in my chest.
“Enough sentimentality. Any second now, I will move. I will move, and I will fetch something to clean us. Just as soon as I can feel my legs.”
In response, I started to rise in his stead. He tightened his arm around me in response, trapping me to his chest.
“That was not a suggestion for you to move. You, my darling Duchess, are to remain in this bed, naked and wanting, until an hour or so before our wedding. The only exception is if this house is actually on fire.”
With that order he did rise, dipped a cloth in the nearby basin, and returned to see to my intimate areas. He tossed it in the general direction of our clothing pile before returning to my arms. Smoothing the floral bed coverings over us, he shrouded us in a quiet peace. His eyes were closed but his fingers still swirled lazily through my hair. I lay there, tracing patterns through the sparse hair on his chest, wondering if the question at the tip of my tongue was entirely inappropriate.
He preempted my musings. “Ask it.”
“What?”
“Whatever question is burning in that beautiful head of yours.”
“How did…?”
“When you want to ask something but you’re not sure if you should, you open and close your mouth like a fish.” I accompanied my denial with a playful swat to his chest. “Then how did I know you wanted to ask something?”
I had no rebuttal to that, so I was forced to ask my question. “When can we do that again?’
His answering laugh brought forth my own.
“In the morning, Duchess. I need rest and possibly food if I’m to keep you satisfied. Now go to sleep.”
“You’ll show me what to do in the morning?”
“I already showed you what to do.”
“But you did all the work.”
“You really are going to kill me… I’ll show you whatever you want just as soon as I’m rested enough to reliably move my extremities.”
He said that with a final forehead kiss before pulling me still closer. I started again before he shushed me. After a moment or so of quiet, his breathing evened out as he fell asleep. My worries of a sleepless night proved to be un-founded, and I joined him in an exhausted but satisfied slumber a few moments later.
Thirty-One
GRAYSON HOUSE, LONDON - JULY 2, 1814
MICHAEL
I awokewith a mouthful of hair and a numbness in my arm. My heart stuttered once I recalled the source of both predicaments. When I opened my eyes, it was to a wild mess of tangled curls and little else. The sun, barely beginning to stream through the window, turned some of the chocolate strands to cinnamon. Slowly, so as not to wake her, I brushed the cloud of her hair back.
Arms full of warm, naked Juliet, it was the best morning of my life. My erection made its agreement obvious. I ignored it in favor of observing her in this unguarded state. Her pale skin was scattered with the results of my admiration, and her neck and chest were still reddened with my lovemaking. An entirely inappropriate feeling of pleasure surfaced at the thought that her gown might not hide all of the evidence.
Dawn broke, a ray of light landed across her closed lids, and she gave a sleepy grumble in protest, burying her face against my chest. Just then, blood returned to my arm, and a painful tingling began. I wiggled my fingers, trying to do so without waking her. The drowsy kiss on my chest accompanied by a warm hum was evidence of my failure. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered a greeting.
“Morning,” she mumbled in return before rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a shy smile.
“Are you hungry?”
She nodded with an enticing stretch, freeing my arm entirely so I could rise to ring the bell. Task completed, I bundled both of us under the bed coverings.
“How are you feeling?” The question was paired with a hand sliding low on her back, emphasizing my meaning.
