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“Perhaps tomorrow, Monsieur Langlois,” Torie said, taking the hand Dominic was holding out to her. “Children, please remember that you must ask Cook before you take any food to the mother bunny in Green Park. Mrs. Cottage was most disconcerted to find that her freshly baked tart had gone missing yesterday.”

“It was an asparagus tart,” Valentine explained, his right arm pinned to his side as he drew another circle. “We thought that the smell might bring her out of the woods, but it didn’t.”

“Lady Kelbourne,” Langlois said, imploringly.

Dominic had no patience for the artist. His whole body was itching to draw Torie into their bedchamber and throw her on the bed. No, unbutton her first. Damn it, she was wearing stays. He could work around that. Get her down to the stays and chemise, and then crawl under all that starched cotton and lick her until she was ready for him.

Course, she might be ready. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright blue.

“Do you want to take Oddie with you?” Florence asked.

“No, thank you,” Torie said. She nodded. “Monsieur Langlois, it has been a pleasure.”

“Your studio?” he said hopefully.

The man didn’t seem to be able to finish a sentence.

“I would be happy to meet you there tomorrow morning,” Torie repeated. “The viscount and I are quite busy, and we are going to the theater tonight.”

Dominic frowned before he remembered the plans he had for that thick velvet curtain in the back of his box. He didn’t even mind if she wore that confection she had on, though Torie would probably say it was only for the day.

“I’ve turned into an animal,” he told her when they were walking down the steps from the nursery.

She descended ahead of him since the volume of her skirts and the narrowness of the stairwell didn’t allow room for anyone beside her. She tilted her head back and looked at him, her face more pointed and delicate from this angle. He couldn’t see her stubborn chin.

“Animal as in rabbit?”

“I still haven’t passed out,” he said thoughtfully. “More practice is needed.”

They had reached the landing. One of the housemaids was dusting woodwork, so Dominic forced himself to saunter beside his lady, even though the touch of her fingers on his elbow was incredibly arousing.

They passed a large gilt mirror, the two of them looking as prim as a china figurine of a husband and wife.

“Rabbits must be as frenzied as we,” Torie said in a low voice. “They have so many children. Will you mind if I conceive right away?”

The image of her body rounded with his child flashed into Dominic’s mind and he snapped. He scooped her into his arms, took two great strides, and kicked open the door to their bedchamber. Torie started giggling, and lord knew, that maid probably was as well.

He set her on her feet and reached out to shove the door closed before he turned her around. “Where are the bloody hooks?” he gritted out.

Torie was giggling so hard that her breasts were—

He reached around to her front and yanked down her bodice. “Careful!” she yelped. “This gauze is a work of art.” But she put her head back against his shoulder.

Dominic’s hands shaped her breasts, thumbs swiping roughly across her nipples.

“Oh, Dom,” she moaned.

His body was feverish, his fingers trembling. Somehow he managed to undo all the intricate little buttons and hooks without tearing that wretched gauze—perhaps just a bit in the rear—and then he had her on his bed.

“I need you,” he said against her lips, feeling his heart hammering against her breasts.

“Take me,” Torie said, her blue eyes smiling.

He stopped, tapped her generous lip. “You look . . .”

“Happy?”

“You are often happy. You look content.”