His thumb traced circles on her palm. “Ready to go home?”
“Yes.” She leaned against his shoulder. “Very ready.”
They made their farewells, accepting congratulations and deflecting invasive questions about names and christenings. The carriage ride to Ashmere passed in comfortable silence, Theodore’s arm wrapped around her shoulders as the countryside blurred past the windows.
When they arrived home, Mrs. Agnes greeted them with knowing eyes and tactful silence.
Theodore dismissed the staff for the evening, taking Cressida’s hand as they climbed the stairs to their chambers. He closed the door behind them with quiet finality.
“Alone, at last,” she said.
“Finally.” Theodore pulled her close, his hands spanning her waist. “I’ve been wanting to do this all afternoon.”
His mouth found hers with the intensity of six hours’ worth of restraint. Cressida melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. When he lifted his head, his eyes had gone dark with want.
“How are you feeling?” His hand drifted to her still-flat stomach, protective and possessive at once.
“Perfectly well.” She tugged at his cravat. “Stop treating me like I’m fragile.”
“You’re carrying our child.”
“And I’m not made of glass.” She succeeded in loosening the cravat, her fingers working the knot free. “Besides, the midwife said activity was perfectly acceptable. Encouraged, even.”
“Did she?” His voice was rough.
“Mmm.” Cressida pushed his coat off his shoulders. “Something about maintaining marital harmony.”
Theodore laughed, the sound warm against her throat as he kissed a path down her neck. “I’m very interested in maintaining harmony.”
His hands found the fastenings of her gown, fingers sure and practiced. Fabric whispered to the floor. Cressida worked his waistcoat free, her breath catching as his teeth grazed the pulse point below her ear.
“Bed,” she managed.
“Eventually.”
He backed her toward the wall, his body pressing hers against cool plaster. One hand slid beneath her chemise while his mouth claimed hers again. Cressida arched into him, greedy for contact, for the weight of him, for everything they’d learned in six months.
When he finally lifted her, she was already trembling. Theodore laid her down gently and followed immediately, his weight settling with familiar rightness.
“I love you,” she said against his mouth.
His answer was a kiss that stole all thought.
Cressida’s fingers undid the remaining buttons of his shirt, parting linen to find warm skin and hard muscle beneath.
Theodore broke the kiss to pull the shirt over his head. His hands returned to her chemise, drawing it up with deliberate slowness. Cool air kissed her skin as he bared her completely, his gaze trailing over her with hungry appreciation.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding along her ribs, across the point where their child was growing, then higher to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her sensitive nipples, drawing a gasp from her throat.
“Theodore!” she moaned.
“Patience.” He lowered his head, beard rasping against tender skin. “We have all night.”
“I don’t want all night.” She reached for his trousers. “I want you now.”
He caught her hands and pinned them gently above her head while exploring lower. “Greedy.”
“Yes.” She arched into his touch as his hand drifted lower. “Please.”
