“There’ll be no moresir, either, woman.”
She laughed. “I can’t possibly go about the Abbey calling youRolandbefore the staff.”
“You do realize as my wife you will no longer be my housekeeper.” He crooked his brow. “You will oversee the house, of course, but no more scrubbing and polishing and?—”
“Roland,” she admonished, “you cannot forbid me to work on the Abbey if you continue to toil at the north wall. What’s more”—she placed a finger to his lips—“you cannot order me about anymore, so I may do as I wish, and if I wish to continue cleaning rooms alongside Ruby then I will continue to?—”
He covered her body, kissing her silent, then kissing her silly, until she was gasping for air. “And you cannot . . . Roland, you cannot?—”
“What love?” His hand teased dangerously. “Tell me what exactly I cannot do to you now that you are my wife and I am legally allowed to do anything I wish to you, darling. You do realize I may do anything at all to you, don’t you?” And the look in his eyes was so devilishly wanton, she blushed to her roots.
“Just what do you intend to do to me,sir?” Charles whispered, aroused and afraid.
“All sorts of deliciously wicked, despicable things, woman. Things I promise you will like almost as much as I will. Almost, mind you.” His hand slipped to her core, causing her to gasp with delight.
“But before we begin a new day of marital wickedness, I have something for you, Lady Wellesley.” And just as quickly he leapt from the bed to rifle through the pockets of his waistcoat, which he plucked from the floor, their clothes long scattered about the room.
Charles sucked in her breath. “Roland, I have nothing for you, and I know it is customary for bride and groom to exchange?—”
He returned to bed to hush her with his lips. “Nonsense, Fox,youare all the gift I need.”
“As I need only you, too, love.” She stopped to see a bright chain draped over his palm, dangling. “My lord, you should not have?—”
“I have every right to give my wife a gift.” His face grew stern. “And I will brook no argument otherwise, young lady.”
“Back to ordering me about, are you?” She tsked. “I see marriage may prove difficult for Your Grace to learn you cannot?—”
“For God’s sake, Charles, take the bloody gift and thank me.” He glowered at her.
So she did, laughing at his expression until she looked down, overcome with emotion. “Roland . . .” Charles struggled to form words.
***
“Do you like it?” Wells asked, concerned. “It is not meant to offend, Charles, it is meant to remind us both, perhaps, of how we began. To remind me, at least, to be a better man, a better husband to you.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek, alarming him only more.
“Christ, love, I did not mean to?—”
“Roland, it is perfect.” She kissed him through her tears. “I am allowed to cry for joy, am I not?”
Wells marveled at her again as he watched his wife gaze upon the ivory pendant in her palm, a cameo finely wrought in the profile of a rooster. It was not so small as to be lost, nor so large as to be garish. She bade him fix it about her neck, which he did, letting it nestle between her breasts, the gold-encrusted rim reflecting the red-gold of her hair.
“You did not steal my chickens, Fox,” he told her softly, “you stole my very soul.”
“I believe I stole your cock, sir.” She flashed him a devilish grin. “Is that why you have given me a rooster for a charm?”
He laughed. “I did think a cock, perhaps, more apt to hang about your neck.”
“No string of pearls then, no gems, just a cock. I see.” Her eyes glittered anew as she began to inch her way down his chest with kisses, the cameo swinging loose between her breasts. “I must give proper thanks for so generous a gift, my lord.” Her mouth landed on his sex.
“Fox . . .” he groaned.
“I insist, love.” She spoke between licks.
“Woman!”
“Husband.” Her lips teased further. “I do so love the gift.”
