She raised her face for a kiss and he obliged, thinking that her mouth alone could rouse him more than the whole of any other woman’s body. After a long satisfying embrace, he held her away from him. “I’ve missed you.”
“Good!” She laughed, her face bright again. “I would hate to think I was the only one who noticed how long it has been.”
She was glad to see Gervase smile at that. His face had been closed and wary when she first came in, and for a moment she had been terrified that he’d come to say that he could live without her quite easily. He would have casually given her the rest of the pearl necklace as a parting gift; Madeline said that was the sort of thing gentlemen usually did.
Instead, he ignored that last night in the garden. She knew the issues raised then were buried, not resolved, but she was too much a coward to raise them again tonight. She had never claimed to be brave.
Gervase wrapped his arms around her shoulders and steered her to the small sofa, pouring a brandy before he sat down and pulled her close. She cuddled under his arm, thinking how strange it was that she felt so wonderfully safe and protected with him, in spite of all that lay between them.
He offered the brandy goblet to her. “I trust you weren’t with Geoffrey because he was ill?”
“No, I was reading him a story and we both wanted to see how it ended. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”
“No matter.”
His hand brushed the side of her breast, and warmth began to uncoil deep in her body. She knew he liked a little boldness, so she unfastened two buttons on his shirt and slipped her fingers inside. A little breathlessly she said, “I’m thinking of buying him a pony. He had a birthday last week, and insists he is now old enough for a mount of his own.”
Gervase chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with his logic. I’ll get him the pony he rode at Aubynwood. It’s a good animal, and the owner’s children have outgrown it.”
She slid her hand down his thigh, feeling long, hard muscles beneath her palm. “He’d like that. How much will it cost?”
The viscount shrugged. “I’ll pay for it.”
Glancing up at him, she said, “No, I will.”
He gave her a reproving glance. “Diana, you have not yet mastered the trick of being a mistress. You’re supposed to accept whatever gifts are offered and wheedle for more.”
She said acerbically, “Would you prefer me like that?”
He raised his hand and delicately toyed with her ear. “I like you very well the way you are.”
“Then let me pay for the pony. It’s for Geoffrey, after all, not for me.” It was hard to remember her principles when he was doing such delightful things to her.
“You mean I can give presents to you, but not your son?” he asked. “I like Geoffrey for his own sake, you know.”
His words were deeply gratifying. Relaxing against his side, she said, “In that case, I accept on my son’s behalf. Geoffrey will be delighted. He fell in love with that pony.”
“Good. I doubt he would appreciate what I brought you.” He reached over to the table that stood by the sofa and lifted a small flat package. “I found this in Dublin.”
She sat up to unwrap the gift, then gasped at what she found inside. “Gervase, it’s exquisite! I saw aBook of Hoursonce as a child, and I’ve never forgotten it.”
In her hands she held one of the medieval prayer books that marked the cycles of the days and the seasons. Each was an individual work of art, with hand-lettered text and illustrations that were miniature masterpieces. This one opened to an Annunciation scene in the Hours of the Virgin. She brushed her fingertips reverently across the page, imagining the devotion the book had inspired over the centuries.
“I’m glad you like it. The dealer who sold it to me said it was Flemish, about four hundred years old.” He finished the brandy and set the goblet on the end table.
Diana looked at him, her eyes shining. “You find the most marvelous, unusual things. I don’t know how to thank you.”
His smile was deep and intimate. “I can think of a way.” Putting his hand behind her head, he drew her down for a kiss.
They made love like a tropic storm, a whirlwind of heat and turbulence. Afterward they rested in lazy contentment, knowing the night was young. Candles cast a soft glow, since Gervase insisted on seeing her. Diana had come to agree that light was better. She loved the beautiful lines and planes of her lover’s body, the soft vibrations of his voice, the way his face would relax into the peacefulness he showed only with her. He lay with his head pillowed on her breast, his arms enfolding her, his breath soft and even.
The tranquility was interrupted when a small body thumped onto the bed. Gervase came instantly alert, and she was reminded that he had been a soldier. He relaxed as the tabby cat stomped her way up the mattress, each footfall a small quake.
Diana tried to sit up but Gervase held her tight. “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “I don’t know how the cat got in here.”
“She came in when you did.” He scratched the furry head, getting a delighted purr for his efforts. “I don’t mind if you don’t. I rather like cats. They’re contrary beasts. That’s probably why she isn’t sleeping with Geoffrey.”
Tiger had rolled over on her back and was letting Gervase scratch her stomach, a sign of rare favor.
