He kissed another one away. “Of course. Nothing.”
Her throat clogged.You, she wanted to say.You, I love you.She could still feel the pulse of his softening erection. It throbbed inside of her, as if it were her life’s breath. His lips feathered her neck.
“You should rest today,” he said.
“Rest?” She pulled in her emotion and pushed off of him. “Impossible. We returned in the dead of the night. There is too much to do. We have guests.”
Her attempt was futile. He tugged her back to his chest. “Yes, we do. But we also have servants.”
She angled her head, letting him nibble at her neck. It was most pleasant. “True, but Cecilia and Irene cannot be left to servants. I wouldn’t feel right deserting them for an entire day.” Not to mention Corinne. She’d heard the girl sobbing into her pillow. And each morning, she appeared more pale and wan than the day before. Those sentiments Lorelei swallowed. Miss Hollerfield would be humiliated learning such a topic had been discussed.
“I suppose not, but surely you are allowed a moment of solitude.”
“Solitude?” A bubble of laughter grew in her chest. Something she hadn’t felt in quite some time.
Thorne lifted her up, forcing her gaze to his. Laughter creased about his eyes in small wrinkles. She touched them. What a handsome man, her husband was. She traced his lips with her fingertips.
“How are we to find Brandon?” She almost regretted the question when his lips firmed and his eyes turned grim.
“That is the question, isn’t it? We’ll find him, love.” He disengaged himself from her body, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “Stay here, I’ll ring for tea.”
Thorne bounded from the bed, tossing his silk wrapper her way, then disappearing to the water closet.
Determined not to waste another moment of the morning before temptation took hold, Lorelei slipped on the wrapper and crawled off the bed. She gathered her dress from the floor, went to the door adjoining their chambers, and turned the handle. Locked. Her head fell against it in a low thud. She lifted her head and stole a glance over her shoulder.
Thorne stood there in all his naked glory, brow lifted. Fire crept up her neck. To his credit, he declined commenting.
She cleared her throat. “I, um, will unlock the door.” She moved to the other door, but he beat her there, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her roughly.
“See that you do. I’ve missed you.” He stepped around her, opened the door to the hall, and leaned his head out. His grin was decidedly wicked when he turned back to her. “There’s no one about.”
With nothing to add, shoulders back, head high, she stalked past, her lips still tingling, and her heart pounding. She went through to her bedchamber, closed the door, and leaned against it. Why did she have to love him so much? Would she change it? Never.
Smiling, she went to the chest of drawers, took the key from her jewel case, and slipped it into the lock. She should have realized that locking him out would be more detrimental to her well-being than his. Worse, her approach upon hearing that he’d dumped her brother on a boat, bound for God knew where, should have been used to instigate a mature conversation. Not to take the irrational actions of a common fishwife.
Lorelei rang for hot water, then went to the wardrobe and dropped the wrapper. She didn’t have long to wait.
“Somethin’s not right in here,” Bethie bellowed.
“Goodness, Bethie. Are you trying to rouse the entire household?” Lorelei peered out from the closet. Bethie stood in the center of the chamber, fists on her massive hips, staring at the mantle above the hearth. “Keep your voice down.”
“I’m telling ye, there’s somethin’ wrong.”
Panic fluttered in Lorelei’s belly. This was not normal Bethie behavior. Lorelei swept the wrapper from the floor, slipping it back on as she rushed from the closet. “What is it?”
“Look.”
It took Lorelei a full minute to realize the problem. “Brandon’s painting, it’s gone. But who would take it?” The work was certainly not a favorite of hers, quite ghastly, in fact, depicting Judas’s betrayal of Jesus. Still, it showcased Brandon’s incredible talent. “Help me dress. Quickly, Bethie.”
Lorelei dressed in record time, aware that her usually immaculate hair was so untidy that it would likely create a fainting frenzy among the servants. But someone had been in their home, her bedchamber, and stolen, at the very least, a picture that Brandon had left in her keeping.
She darted down the stairs to the library. The painting of her at the piano was also gone. Lightheaded and faint, she flew to the dining room. Two more works, gone!
“Lady Kimpton? Is something wrong?”
Lorelei started and glanced around. Steam rose from the sideboard, where shiny silver services offered eggs, kippers, and bacon. The aroma filling the room made her ill. Corinne sat at the table sipping tea, watching her with a puzzled expression. The walls were bare. Brandon’s paintings… all of them… gone.Stolen.
“Darling, what is it? You’re positively white.” Thorne took her by the shoulders and guided her to a chair. She hadn’t even noticed him. “Sit. Oswald, tea for Lady Kimpton.”
