He grinned that grin she loved. “Please tell meI’mthe project?”
She leaned down and brushed a kiss over his lips. “Yes.”
She squealed when his arms wrapped around her and pulled her onto the bed, flipping their bodies so he lay atop her.
“Thank God.” He buried his face into her neck. “You’ve been remiss in fixing me. I hate being left unfinished.”
She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled. “I’d say you’re rather perfect as you are.”
He lifted himself on his elbows and stared down at her, his eyes wide. “‘Perfect’? No, that won’t do. I’ve so manyflaws, remember? There must be something you can direct your attention to?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Your penmanship is impeccable. Those lessons have paid off.”
“Ididwork rather hard.”
“And you’re nothing of an idiot now that you are so agreeable.”
“That was the easiest fix,” he said. “Since you’re always right, I have no need for idiocies.”
She bit her lip. They still quarreled plenty,bothmaking mistakes. But they always worked through their disagreements with a forgiving nature, and lots of sex. The day since Nic Brandt had disappeared, Camille had taken to reminding her husband of her love every day. With lips and tongue and words filled with insult and innuendo—to Renard’s preference.
He sighed. “Is there nothing else? Will you tire of me now that I am so close to your angelic status? I was looking forward to your insults and undivided attention.”
She laughed. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
He kissed her on the forehead and rolled onto his side to snuggle her from behind, a comforting position they found themselves in most nights when they talked until their lips found other uses.
“Is your mama settled?” he asked.
“She is.” Camille had been shocked two years ago when her mother had declined the offer to live at Lux Estate with her and Renard. It seemed she and Aunt Clarice had formed an attachment, one that kept them regularly in bed.
Her mother’s transformation had continued to surprise and elate her. Rosy cheeks, tolerable if not amiable company—in small doses—and smiles, the kind that reached her brown eyes. Clarice and Mama had become so happy, they’d decided to let a house farther from the club, where the two women could live amore respectable life as ‘companions’ while Sensa took over the daily workings of the Prodding Pony.
“They invited me to a small ceremony to celebrate, unofficial of course, but we are both invited.”
“Ah, love,” Renard lamented. “The parties, the champagne, thesmall talk.”
Camille brightened. “That’s it!”
Renard chuckled. “My public discomfort?”
“No.” She smirked. “You’re still charming.”
His eyes lit mischievously. “One of my worst flaws.”
She hid her grin. “And handsome.”
Renard drew her close. “I’ll wear a bag over my head whenever we’re together.Thatshould stop any guests from asking me about the weather.”
“How imaginative, Your Grace. The neighbors will think you quite eccentric.”
“For you, my dear, I’d freeze off my nose, fingers,andtoes.”
“You tried that already.” Remembering him waiting outside the Prodding Pony sent a new wave of love through her chest. She trailed a finger down his nose. “I’ve grown to admire your handsomeness.”
“Then I’m forgiven?” he asked, an echo of that night so many lifetimes ago.
She pulled his head down and whispered against his lips, “In this one instance.”
