Page 61 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“Eyes on me,” he snapped, his gaze burning into her when she could manage to lift her heavy lids. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his thrusts punishing, the words squeezed out between clenched teeth, the muscles of his torso hard, rippling, and glistening from his exertion.

He was utterly, completely—almost painfully—magnificent.

And he was hers. All. Hers. When would that stop amazing her? How had homely, gangly, awkward Hyacinth Bellamy managed to attract such a man?

“I…love…you,” Hy panted the words between the brutal slamming.

He groaned, drove himself deep, and then his entire body stiffened as he filled her with liquid heat.

A moment later his big body collapsed over hers.

“Oh, Hyacinth. You undo me,” he whispered, and then toppled them both to the side.

A short time later…

Sylvester carded his fingers through his wife’s damp hair as she rested her head on his chest and toyed with his navel.

“It is odd that you are not ticklish at all,” she said, not for the first time, her low voice vibrating through his body.

Sylvester smiled as she lightly glossed her fingers over his sides, down his thigh, seeking some part of him that would reduce him to a giggling heap. She was extremely ticklish; amusingly so. When he was feeling especially cruel—usually after she had driven him to it—he tickled her just to see his normally serious wife laugh uncontrollably. She claimed it was a worse punishment than a beating. His smile grew into a grin; it had been foolish of her to give him such a weapon.

“Katie is unhappy.”

The smile slid from his lips. He had thought the same thing more than a few times but had not mentioned it because he had been so preoccupied with Andrew and their reconciliation.

He’d lived in the same house with Kathryn for months but did not know his young sister-in-law very well. Even so, he’d seen something he recognized in her eyes: desperation. It was an expression he’d seen in Andrew’s eyes countless times over the years. Only recently had his cousin lost some of that haunted look. He had begun to hope that Andrew had left his pain and rage in the past.

But then earlier tonight, in the drawing room—right before Andrew had stormed out—he’d seen such a look of angry despair on his cousin’s face that it had left him breathless. He had been about to run after him, to see if he could help. But he knew Andrew would not appreciate him prying. Sylvester would wait until tomorrow to check on him.

He turned his thoughts back to his wife, who was probably waiting for an answer. “Kathryn was not this way the last time you saw her—in the spring?” he asked.

She shook her head, her silky hair stroking his chest. “No. This is new.”

He heard the anguish in her voice and knew she must indeed be worried because she so rarely exhibited any emotion—at least not outside of sex, the only time she seemed to loosen her tight control.

“Have you tried asking her if something is wrong?” he asked, even though he could guess her answer.

“No. At least not in so many words.”

He smiled. “You might need to be direct with her, darling.”

She made a thoughtful humming sound, which was her non-confrontational way of saying no.

“Phoebe said our mother is insisting that Katie return to Bath with her after Christmas.”

His fingers stilled in her hair. “She will not allow her to have a Season?”

“She says Katie may have her come out next year and that she will come to London to oversee her launch.”

He resumed his stroking. “Do you doubt that will happen?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Sometimes understanding what Hyacinth wanted was difficult. Sylvester decided to take his own advice from a few moments earlier and be direct.

“What do you think would be best for your sister?”

It took Hyacinth a good five minutes before she answered. His wife was not given to impulsive words or actions.