She opened her eyes, looking so lovely while on the verge of sleep, and said, “Tell me one of your fantasies. I told you one of mine.”
“My fantasies are not sweet as yers,mo ghraidh.”
Her lips curled into a fetching, wicked smile. “Tell me, Husband. Maybe I will be willing to make one of your fantasies come true.”
God, but he loved the sound of that from her persuasive lips. He thought for a moment and settled quickly on one of the many fantasies he’d had of things he would do with her since they had met. “I do not wish to shock ye.”
“I wish it,” she said, stroking her fingernails down his stomach to his groin. She gripped him.
Oh, she was a wee wicked lass, and he loved it.
“I’ve a fantasy of taking ye in a private pleasure room at the gaming hell where I am partial owner.” It was a dream he’d had ever since a woman with Guinevere’s coloring had proposed he take her in one of the private pleasure rooms at the Orcus Society.
Her eyes went wide, and he instantly regretted telling her until she said, “I’m deliciously shocked and eager to make your fantasy come true.”
Every ounce of blood in his body went to his groin. “Ye would not be afraid to—”
“I will wear a mask!” she interrupted, scrambling to her knees and leaning over him, eyes bright, hands on his chest. “It will be wicked! When can we go to this club? I didn’t know you even owned one.”
“Saints preserve me, I’ve wed abean bhàsail.”
“I am no temptress,” she said, yawning again.
Asher frowned. “How do ye know whatbean bhàsailmeans?”
Guinevere looked uneasy, which made him uneasy. Silence stretched for a moment, and then she said, “Kilgore called me that at the Antwerp ball, and I asked him what it meant.”
“I see.”
And he did see. His fist in Kilgore’s face over and over.
And how the devil was Kilgore familiar with Gaelic?
She leaned toward him, her bare breasts brushing against his chest, and she kissed him. His body stirred in immediate response. “I’myourtemptress, Asher. Not his. I’m your wife.” Wickedness gleamed in her eyes. “And as my husband, you have the right to take me again if you wish it.”
“I wish it,” he said, hoisting her over to straddle him, forgetting everything else in the moment but the two of them.
The day was perfect from the moment she awoke, which was indulgently late. The sun was high in the sky, sending rays of bright light into their bedchamber, and when she sat up, she gasped at the sight of vases full of lilies all over the room.
Asher was gone, but in his place on the bed was a green silk mask and a note. The bond between them seemed to be growing stronger every day. Maybe tonight he would tell her that he loved her. She picked up the rolled parchment, untied the ribbon, and read the note.
I’ve gone to attend to business. I’ll return by six for supper. Be dressed to go to the Orcus Society. The mask is for tonight.
Asher
A thrill shot through her at the thought that tonight she would get to make Asher’s fantasy come true.
“My lady,” Ballenger called from the door, making Guinevere smile that her life here was truly starting. “Will you break your fast now?”
Guinevere made the spontaneous decision to eschew normal tradition. “I’ll come to the drawing room this morning.”
“Very well. I’ll tell the downstairs maids.”
Anticipation filled her as she scrambled off the bed, washed, dressed, and rushed downstairs to calm her growling stomach. She smiled as she strode toward the drawing room for breakfast. She would need plenty of strength for tonight, after all. When she entered the room, she came to a halt, surprised to find Talbot at the table, teacup in hand. He rose and offered a leg before sweeping a hand toward the chairs and smiling at her. For the first time in quite a while, he looked bright-eyed and presentable.
“I see we both indulged in our sleep today,” he offered affably.
“Yes,” she said, exhaling a relieved breath that he seemed in a pleasant mood. She sat beside him as a servant approached her. Guinevere requested a cup of hot chocolate, and once she was served and the servant departed, she chose a honey cake from the tray on the table. When she looked up, Talbot was staring at her. “I was up late with—” She stopped her confession, blood heating her face.
