Page 52 of The Music of Love

“Did you forget something?”

“I forgot to look at the flowers Frances and Mrs. Lawson spent so much time arranging.”

“You only had eyes for me, I take it?” His smile was smug.

“You are as vain as a debutante, Mr. Harrington.”

He laughed and the warm, deep sound sent arrows of desire shooting through her body. Was is wrong of her to want to skip the wedding breakfast and go directly to the wedding night?

Somehow the wedding breakfast lasted almost until dinner and by the time their guests departed it was time to eat again. Only Frances joined them for the evening meal and Portia was embarrassed by the obvious haste with which the other woman took her leave after the dessert course.

Stacy grinned across at her. “Do you think my aunt really has crucial matters to discuss with Soames?”

“You shouldn’t have teased her, Stacy. The poor woman was redder than a beet.”

He stood and came around the table, holding out his hand and drawing her to her feet, his eyes dark behind the rose-colored glass. “I would much rather be teasing you, Mrs. Harrington.”

She flushed under his hot gaze and swallowed awkwardly; Portia adored this playful, affectionate side of his personality but was not yet accustomed to it.

“I will join you in your chambers after I finish my port—shall we say an hour.” He wore a slight, smug smile; a smile that said it amused him to make her wait.

It should have annoyed her, but it only increased her desire for him. Still, she forced herself to meet his hot stare with a prim, cool gaze. “Perhaps an hour and a quarter.”

She gave him a deep curtsey and left to the sound of his laughter.

To her delight there was a bath waiting in her chambers.

“Mr. Harrington ordered it for you ma’am.”

Portia smiled. So, he was not tormenting her, after all, but being considerate. How decadent to have not one, but two, baths in a single day. He knew she was sore—every muscle in her body seemed to ache these days—and wanted to soothe her pain. The realization left an odd ache in her chest; it had been so long since somebody had taken care of her.

Daisy helped Portia change out of her wedding finery and she groaned as she slipped into the steaming tub. She lounged until the water cooled, not washing her hair as she’d done so that morning. Afterward, she put on a nightgown she rarely wore, one made of white lawn and trimmed with cobweb-thin lace.

Daisy brushed Portia’s hair until it shone and then set the brush down on her dressing table. “Will there be anything else, Mrs. Harrington?”

Portia smiled at her maid’s flaming face. “No, Daisy. That will be all for tonight.”

Daisy curtseyed and scuttled from the room.

She was too nervous to get into bed so she inspected her new chambers: the mistress apartment. The rooms were done in soothing shades of green with cream silk wall hangings and emerald velvet drapes. It was twice the size of her original chambers and the bed was an enormous four-poster that made her entire body tingle whenever she looked at it.

The connecting door opened and her husband stood in the doorway, wearing a silk robe the color of his magnificent eyes. He closed the door behind him and Portia stood riveted to the floor, her heart pounding and her breathing shallow as she consumed him. He held a bottle and two glasses in one hand, lifting them wordlessly as he came toward her.

Portia pointed to the half-full glass of milk on the side table and he lifted his brows. “Frances had it sent up. I’m afraid even the thought of wine makes me feel ill.”

He set down the glasses and bottle on her dressing table. “I shall remember that. May I?” He gestured toward the glass of milk.

Portia laughed. “Of course.”

He took a drink and grimaced. “We shall suffer together.”

“You don’t care for milk?”

“Not even when I was a boy.” He replaced the glass and their eyes locked. He reached out and touched her cheek and she shivered.

“That is a lovely gown,” he murmured, running his finger down her jaw and throat and coming to a rest at the top button of the high neck. “But I would like to see your body. All of it.”

Her breathing hitched and her fingers were on the buttons before he finished speaking. He rested his hands on her shoulders and watched in silence. Portia thrilled at the flaring of his pupils as she unfastened the tiny buttons. When she reached the last of them he slid his hands beneath her nightgown and pushed it off her shoulders, leaving her naked.