“Mmm.”
And speaking of physical activities… Marianne moved off Ambrose, kneeling at his side so that she could work the hard curves of his buttocks, the taut sinew of his thighs and calves. Soon desire was thrumming impatiently in her blood, and she’d had enough of the foreplay.
Sliding up, she murmured in his ear, “Why don’t you massage me now… inside?”
No response.
Frowning, she said, “Ambrose?”
He let out a snore.
He’d… fallen asleep on her?
For a moment, she teetered between exasperation and wifely concern. The latter won out. With a sigh, she drew the covers over his slumbering form, climbed in next to him, and doused the light.
Chapter Twenty-Six
That night, Violet had trouble finding sleep. Despite the soothing pitter patter of a light rain that had begun after supper, she found herself tossing restlessly against the pillows. The evening had been a mellow one, with many guests going up to bed early. She hadn’t seen Richard and wondered where he’d gone. She’d had a chance to catch up with Wick, however, the two of them chatting briefly in the atrium.
“Am I forgiven, Vi, for lying to you about my debt?” he’d said quietly.
The shame and remorse in her friend’s eyes had compressed her chest. She knew why Wick had lied. He’d felt that he couldn’t measure up—and she understood the feeling all too well. It wasn’t easy comparing oneself to one’s clever and capable siblings.
“Of course I forgive you.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “But it’s not my forgiveness you ought to be seeking out.”
“I already talked to Carlisle. We made peace.”
“I’m glad. He cares about you a great deal, Wick.”
“You as well.” His knowing gaze made her blush. “So am I to understand that we’ll be brother and sister in fact as well as in spirit?”
The return of their old camaraderie made her heart swell and allowed her to disclose her uncertainty. “I don’t know, Wick.”
“Youdolike him, don’t you?”
“Yes… of course. But we’re so different.”
“Take my advice, and don’t let that stop you. God knows he can be a bit blunt and overbearing at times, but you won’t meet a finer man.” Wick hesitated. “Even if he hasn’t had the best of luck with females.”
“He told me about his past,” she admitted.
“He did? There’s a first.” Wick sounded surprised. “He mustreallylike you.”
Hope burgeoned. “Do you think so? Because you know me, Wick, and I can’t change who I am.” She bit her lip. “Let’s face it, I’m a hoyden who forgets proprieties all the time. I’m prone to scrapes, acting without thinking… what if I disappoint him?”
Wick stared at her… and burst out laughing.
“What’s so amusing?” she said, stung. It wasn’t often that she tried to share her innermost feelings.
“You are. Dear Vi,” he said with affection, “don’t you understand? Richard is drawn to youbecauseyou’re different from him. He needs your spirit andjoie de vivre. Otherwise, he’ll end up an old stick-in-the-mud. Trust me on this.”
Now, moving restlessly amidst the bedsheets, Violet mulled over her friend’s words. Could it be true that Richard needed her? He seemed so strong and self-assured. But then she recalled the hints of vulnerability she’d glimpsed in him. How surprised he’d been when she said that she found him attractive. How lonely he’d seemed bearing his family’s burdens—and how he’d said she was an ease to him. Her insides melted.
Rap. Rap.
The sound startled her from her thoughts. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Was someone at the door?
The double knocks came again… not from her bedroom door, but from… thebalcony? She jumped out of bed, hurrying over. She parted the drapes, and her eyes widened at the sight:Richardwas standing outside. Hastily, she yanked open the glass-paned doors. The rain-speckled wind billowed the curtains and whipped against her night rail.
