He touched her cheek with a trembling hand and moved with unhurried reverence, caressing every sensitive spot, touching her everywhere, down her body until he reached her most intimate places. When she opened for him without needing to be asked, he found her ready, to his delight.
He gazed back up to find her eyes closed, her breathing coming rapidly. As if she felt his gaze, she opened her eyes to peer back at him. “This is splendid, Gideon. You are splendid.”
That almost undid him. “There’s more,” he said.
She laughed. “I know. Now. Please.” She reached over to touch his erection, but he caught her hand, fearful he would come too soon.
“Next time, Mia. Next time you explore.” He hurried to obey her insistent command to take her now, and the adventure she sought began in earnest.
The bath was forgotten.
*
Mia came awakeslowly the morning after her wedding. Warmth and peace filled her as they hadn’t in days—perhaps ever. A smile grew as memory returned slowly and with it, joy. She opened her eyes to strange bedcovers. Gideon’s bed. But where was he? She rolled over and buried her head in the empty pillow next to hers, breathing in something earthy, faintly redolent of the out of doors, utterly Gideon. The undertones brought more memories, and her face heated. Adventure indeed. It had lasted much of the night.
She slipped from the bed and searched about for her chemise. She found it over a chair, and a very masculine wrapper next to it. She put on the chemise and bundled herself into the wrapper before opening the door to the sitting room.
Mia found Gideon sitting at the table in his shirtsleeves and frowning over papers and the content of an open box. At the sound of her, he stood, and a warm smile transformed his features into a picture of welcome and happy anticipation. This was the man who had led her to places unknown the night before, the one who had left her feeling cherished and safe.
He opened his arms, and she ran into them. “Good morning, wife. How do you feel?”
Loved.“Well cared for,” she said.
He touched her face tenderly. “Good. I want that for you always.” His kiss was tender as well and his hold gentle, as though he worried she might break. She ran her hands up his back, feeling the now familiar lines and ripples through his fine lawn shirt.
He stood away, retaining one hand. “I’ll ring for breakfast. In the meantime, I believe the tea is still hot,” he said, indicating the pot under its cozy on the Italian chiffonier. He urged her to sit, and put action to words.
He handed her tea and straightened the papers. She reached over and lay a hand on his to stop him. “What are you doing?”
“This box is from the family archives.”
She pulled her hand back and glanced at the side of the box. “Seventeen hundred and eighty to seventeen hundred and ninety? That covers the year of your birth, doesn’t it? Have you found anything?”
“Not yet.”
“You were frowning when I came in. Something made you unhappy,” she said.
He grunted and scooped the papers up again.
“Wait, do you have them in order?”
“No, it doesn’t matter. Things are simply tossed in here. It can be organized later. I was frowning, dear wife, because someone has been in here,” he said.
“You think your brother already went through it?” she asked.
“Probably, even likely, but not this week. I can’t be certain, but it appears that someone has been in here since I brought it up.”
Her mouth fell open. She recovered from the unladylike reaction immediately. “Who would do that—and why?”
Gideon leaned over and kissed her nose. “You ask excellent questions, do you know that? Drink your tea, and we’ll talk,” he said. He put all the papers in the box and placed it on the window seat.
Their conversation was interrupted by the servants with breakfast. “They must have been waiting for us,” she said.
Platters of coddled eggs, toast, and roasted ham were accompanied by berry scones and ginger biscuits. Gideon, delighted his new wife shared his tastes, sent the plate of kippers back. Pots of coffee and fresh tea completed the feast. “Marriage to you has enriched me already,” he murmured.
“How so?” she demanded.
“Woodglen’s kitchens aren’t this generous with me, or at least, they weren’t before.” He grinned.
