“I’ll take care of Mrs. Garrity. You may go,” he said.
The maid’s hesitation showed her concern for her mistress. All the servants, he’d noticed, were protective of Gabby. She had that effect on people: they cared about her because she was so bloodynice. And her genuine regard didn’t distinguish between whether you were from the stews, middling classes, or the upper echelons.
“Mrs. Garrity will need help getting changed.” The maid bravely held her ground.
“That’s ever so good of you, Nell, but I’ll manage.” Gabby plopped onto her turned-down bed with a drunken lack of inhibition. “It’s late, and I’m certain you’re sleepy. Me, too, actually.”
At her huge, unladylike yawn, Adam had to hide a grin.
The maid departed. Alone with his wife, who was now singing a children’s lullaby off-key, Adam thought ruefully that things had not gone as planned this evening. He’d wanted to seduce Gabby with an intimate dinner; instead she was utterly foxed. And the ache in his groin was momentarily surpassed by another ache…higher up. In the vicinity of his heart.
Grabbing the nightgown that hung on the dressing screen, he strode over to the bed.
She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Her cheeks were charmingly flushed, and her hair had come undone, tendrils of fire trailing across the linen sheets. She was the very picture of wanton innocence.
That image flashed in his head again: the reclined goddess, clutching a bouquet of roses…a painting, it had to be. Where had he seen it?
Seeing that his wife was falling asleep, he shook off the puzzling memory. “Time to get you ready for bed, pet.”
She stretched languidly. “I’m already in bed.”
If it were any other woman but his guileless bride, he might have thought she was flirting with him. God knew her sultry smile hit him in his cock. Even as his member throbbed with interest, he reminded himself that not only was she foxed, she was far more vulnerable than he’d first realized. He would not take advantage of her.
“Up you go.” He hoisted her to her feet, catching her when she swayed. He steered her hands onto the bedpost. “Hold on while I undress you.”
He made quick work of the tiny buttons on the back of her frock. Tossing aside the blue velvet, he started on her corset strings. God’s blood, the knots were tight. How did she breathe with this blasted thing on?
When he freed her from the heavy cage of whalebone and stiffened fabric, she sighed with pleasure. “You’re even faster at this than Nell.”
She was looking at him over her shoulder, the pose unintentionally and unbearably erotic. Especially since he’d just rid her of her petticoats and all she was wearing was a fine linen chemise and white silk stockings. In the firelight, her shift was nearly transparent. He swallowed as he took in her generous backside. Her rounded hips were made for a man’s hands to hold onto, her lush, peach-shaped arse the perfect cushion for his pounding hips.
Christ, she would tempt a saint—and he was no saint. He was a sex-starved husband who’d been lusting after his wife for weeks. His erection threatened to tear through his trousers.
She’s soused. Get yourself under bloody control.
“Sit on the bed,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll help you with your stockings.”
Obediently, she plunked herself back onto the mattress. He knelt on one knee and, taking a deep breath, reached beneath her shift to her garter. His throat convulsed as his fingers brushed her smooth, silky thighs. As he worked on unhooking the garter, her chemise slid up, bunching at her hips, giving him a glimpse of her thatch, which was—God help him—the same fiery shade as the hair on her head.
With a shuddering breath, he focused on the exquisite torture of rolling her stocking down her shapely leg and over her delicately arched foot. Lust gripped his stones, the pressure shooting up his cock. A drop of wetness leaked from the tip.
Then he had to repeat everything with her other leg.
“This is ever so kind of you,” she said with a tipsy giggle.
“That’s me. Kindest man alive. Let’s change you into your nightgown.”
Her hands stretched obediently upward. With a prayer for willpower, he pulled the chemise up and over her head.
Bloody. Fucking.Hell.
He didn’t know if a man could spontaneously combust but he was about a hair’s breadth from doing so. From unloading his cannon like an untried lad. Just fromlookingat his naked wife.
He expelled a ragged breath. “You’re magnificent.”
With a snort of laughter, she fell backward onto the bed. She grew silent, her eyes closing, and he wondered if she’d passed out. The only thing she had on was the diamond bracelet and her plain gold wedding band, and satisfaction mingled with lust as he saw those symbols upon her, marking her as his.
Just as he was about to tuck her in, she lurched up on her elbows.
