Kenna tossed the sponge at him so that he caught it reflexively, thus foiling his attempt to grab her. Laughing, she went to the vanity and gave her hair a few hard strokes, watching Rhys in the mirror as he finished bathing. “I believe we were discussing your costume,” she reminded him.
Rhys climbed out of the tub and hitched a towel about his waist. “I am not going as Marc Antony or Caesar so you can put that from your mind, Cleo.”
Kenna affected disappointment. “Oh, and you look so dashing in a sheet.”
Rhys grunted as he dried himself off. “I was thinking of a musketeer. When I was in France I saw a number of paintings featuring them. Do you think Alice could copy their uniform if I sketched it for her?”
“It will cost you dearly. She is already working on Cleopatra’s gown.”
“Why do I feel as if I am the sole contributor to that dress shop of hers?”
Kenna put her brush aside and turned to him. “Perhaps because you are.” She rose from the vanity and skirted past Rhys while he had his head buried in a towel, briskly drying his hair. “Are you ever coming to bed?” she asked, slipping between the sheets. She reached over to the nightstand and put out the lamp, then lay on her side, warming a spot for Rhys with the palm of her hand.
Rhys slid insto bed a few moments later and reached for Kenna. She went into his embrace willingly. His fingers threaded through her hair as her fragrance teased his senses. “Care to share a pillow?”
“I’d like that very much,” she said, responding to the phrase that had come to mean he wanted to love her.
Rhys teased her face with kisses until Kenna was forced to take him in hand, directing his mouth to the one place he had neglected—her soft, moist lips. They made love slowly, savoring the tension building between them. He adored her with his mouth and hands, knowing precisely where to touch her to elicit her small cries of pleasure. She caressed him with her slender fingers, cherishing the husky sounds he could not hold back.
Afterward they lay curled against one another, listening to the cadence of their breathing as it slowed in unison. Kenna reached for Rhys’s hand which rested lightly on her hip and brought it around to the flatness of her abdomen.
“I was thinking about children today,” she said. “Our children.”
Rhys’s caressing hand stilled. “So those were your lovely thoughts.”
“Hmm.”
“Then, my very dear Mrs. Canning, I shall try my best to accommodate you.”
“I thought you might,” she murmured sleepily.
Chapter 10
Kenna adjusted the coal black, shoulder-length wig on her head and secured it with the finely crafted gold leaf band Rhys had presented her at breakfast. The front of the head piece was adorned by the slender coil of a snake with fiery ruby eyes. She darkened her brows and lashes and enhanced her eyelids with kohl. Kenna lifted her chin a regal notch and stared at her reflection, pronouncing herself quite mysterious and every inch a queen. Then she wrinkled her nose and made a face just to remind herself who she really was.
Rhys’s shout of laughter came from the other side of the room. “I saw that!”
“Quiet, slave! Or I swear I shall have you entombed in a pyramid,” she announced dramatically. “Alive!” She rose gracefully from her seat and crossed the room to Rhys. Her gown shimmered as she walked, caressing her body in a film of golden threads. The broad onyx necklace that she wore lay flat against her chest, accenting not only the slim column of her throat but the delicate curves of her breasts. Each of her bare arms was adorned by a coiled golden bracelet and the hem of the dress swayed softly about her ankles, allowing an occasional glimpse of the thin leather straps of the sandals that wound around her calves.
Rhys made a deep bow as she approached, flourishing his broad hat in a grand manner that made the white plume dip and sway.
“You may rise,” she said grandly. “Let me look at you.” Rhys straightened. “Oh, my. Alice has outdone herself.” She walked around him, surveying him critically from every angle. The sleeves of his white linen shirt billowed on his arms and tapered at his wrists in tiers of lacy ruffles which lay over the backs of his hands. His long, lean fingers appeared more masculine for the contrast. The loose fitting vest he wore was royal blue, emblazoned with the gold insignia of the old guard of France. His dark velvet breeches disappeared into black leather boots that were softer and allowed more room than the current fashion. The lethal looking rapier Tanner had lent him for the occasion was fastened to his side.
“Magnifique!” Kenna pronounced when she came to stand in front of him again.
“I’m so very pleased you approve,” Rhys said dryly. “I cannot remember a time when I felt so…so…You see!” he accused. “The proper description is foreign to me.”
Kenna gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Remind yourself that you could be wearing a sheet, dearest. That should help you put this in perspective.” She offered him a saucy smile before she swept out of the room.
When they arrived at the Clouds there were already more than a dozen couples dancing to the lilting waltz melody the stringed orchestra was playing.
“Do you know that I’ve never waltzed before?” Kenna whispered to Rhys.
“Regretting not having that London Season after all? You could have waltzed until the wee hours of the morning at Almacks.”
“I’ll make up for it this evening,” she promised, casting a glance at his feet. “I hope your boots are comfortable.”
“The only part of this costume that is,” he whispered back. He started to say something else but Tanner approached them then and Rhys grinned when he saw him. Tanner was wearing a swirling desert robe, much like those worn by the Infidels the English had fought during the Crusades.
