“I don’t think I can hold out for much longer, my love. The need to be nestled inside you has taken over my being,” Cassian groaned.
“Then do it. I have missed you in me as well.”
Locating the entrance to her sex was easy, but Cassian stroked her with fingers first, and Isabella shrieked and pressed against his hand, seeking for more.
Murmuring unheard words, Cassian withdrew his finger and positioned himself over her sex. He teased the wet opening to her body with the head of his shaft, circling, nudging, and Isabella pressed down on him eagerly. She caught her breath at the first pressure of his entry, but her body continued to push downward until Cassian fully penetrated her with one sure thrust.
Isabella tilted her head backward and let out a cry of pure pleasure.
Isabella couldn’t think or speak, couldn’t form her name, and couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t her husband until they were fully spent.
“I love you more than words can describe,” Cassian murmured low into her ears, holding her tight.
“I love you just as much.”
Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER
Acouple of months had passed, and the late-winter evening pressed its chill against the tall windows of Everthorne townhouse. Snow lay piled high, making it almost impossible to leave.
Within the comforting warmth of Cassian’s study, however, the atmosphere was one of quiet industry and domestic felicity. The room, usually dedicated to matters of the estate and such, was temporarily given over to the gentle yet insistent affairs of the Laurel Club at his wife’s wish.
Cassian reclined in his leather armchair, a half-finished document relaying the Laurels’ next meeting. Isabella was perched on the edge of the adjacent seat, her brow furrowed in concentration as she reviewed the list of new Laurels Lady Kendrick had recently secured.
“I believe this proposal to the queen must be re-worded,” Isabella mused, tapping a slender finger against the parchment.“This suggests a certain… overabundance of zeal which will undoubtedly frighten the queen away. We must appear eminently respectable, you understand, not revolutionary.”
Cassian watched her, not truly seeing the paper but rather the faint flush that warmed her cheeks when she was focused and the way a loose tendril of her dark hair curled innocently against her neck.
“Respectability, my love, is a quality that clings to your person like the finest lace. Merely sign your name, and the entire document will be rendered unimpeachable.”
A low chuckle escaped her. “Flattery, Sir, is ill-suited to the demands of philanthropy. But I shall take your advice to a point. It needs but a single amendment.” She lifted her quill, but before the ink could touch the vellum, Cassian rose from his chair. With two silent strides, he was behind her, his large hands resting lightly upon her shoulders.
“Are we quite done with the plight of the Laurels for the evening?” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
“Almost,” she replied, though a shiver of pleasure contradicted her measured tone. “I just need to look through the accounts. Grandmama insists upon order, and I must not disappoint her—nor disappoint myself by failing in my duty to the Club.”
“Your duty to the Club is laudable,” he agreed, beginning a slow, maddening massage of her tension-laden neck and shoulders. “But I confess, my hope is that your primary duty lies inmaintaining the well-being of your husband, who is currently suffering neglect.”
Isabella finally laid the quill down with a sigh, a smile playing on her lips. “You were never neglected a day in your life by me, Cassian. Merely… postponed.”
She rose and turned to face him fully as the last of the Laurel Club papers were pushed aside. The air in the study shifted, becoming charged with an intimacy that drowned all mention of the club or his grandmother.
“Come here.” Cassian leaned forward, sitting at the edge of the large mahogany desk, taking a whiff of her sweet scent.
“I must be going now,” she said, her eyes betraying her reluctance to depart. “The day has advanced, and the household requires my attention. You know we have an army descending upon us for dinner tonight, and I want to ensure the preparations are executed precisely.”
Cassian made a noncommittal sound as his hands found her waist, and with a gentle, decisive pull, she was settled firmly upon his lap. The movement was so swift, so characteristic of his inherent command, that she had no choice but to surrender to it, her palms resting against the fine wool of his waistcoat.
“Stay,” he requested, his eyes dark with persuasive intent. He bent his head and captured her mouth in a kiss that was neither hurried nor overtly passionate but rather a slow, deep declaration of ownership and devotion.
It was a kiss that promised many delightful things once the hour was later and the guests dispersed. Their kisses had always held the power to drive them both mad, but the potency had only intensified since their marriage.
When he finally drew back, she was breathless. “Cassian, I cannot. There are things I must do, like ensure Leo and Papa sit next to each other. It is important that we keep up with family matters, and not just our own affairs.” She touched his cheeks gently.
Cassian buried his face against the curve of her neck, letting out a theatrical, muffled groan. “A husband begs his wife for a mere moment of respite, and she spurns him for the sake of a family dinner. I confess, Isabella, I am devastated.” The light tone in his voice was clearly evident even to him.
“Don’t be, my darling. You shall have all of me once everything is done,” she said, laughing softly as she stroked the back of his head. “Now, please, I must go. Our guests will begin arriving shortly. You shall have all of me and more, I promise.” She leaned in closer and breathed a hot kiss against his ear.
