A damp curl straggled across her face. He reached out and smoothed it back with one finger. “All right?”
“Yes. More than all right.” She sighed and gave a small, sensual shiver. “I never knew... it could be... like that.”
“You never...?”
She shook her head, blushing. “Only with you.”
It was another small gift. He was the first there too. He tried not to let his satisfaction show.
He hadn’t planned to spend the night in her bed—he never usually slept with a woman after congress—but somehow he couldn’t make himself move. He drew her against him, curving his body around her. “Get some sleep now. Another busy day tomorrow.”
She slipped into sleep almost immediately. He lay there holding her, listening to the rain and the wind outside, and wondered how he’d come to this. The marriage was supposed to be for purely practical purposes.
He’d never considered there would be...feelingsinvolved.
His friends had all fallen in love at some time or other—usually with some impossible or unsuitable female. Drowning in the throes of love, they’d turned into hopeless, muddled wrecks of men, unable to think of anything except their beloved inamorata.
Cal had watched with bemusement—and a touch of disdain. Rutherford men didn’t fall in love. Cal certainly never had, even though he’d had several mistresses and conducted the odd few affairs over the years. None of the women he’d slept with had ever touched his heart. And at the age of eight-and-twenty he was obviously immune to it.
His friends’ love affairs had never lasted long. Eventually they returned to their senses—usually because the woman had moved on to drive some other unfortunate fellow insane—and went on with their lives, sadder but wiser men. And when they married, they married sensibly.
As he had.
Lust, that was all this was. He’d made a convenient marriage and it wasveryconvenient that he lusted after his wife. But he didn’t want any emotional tangles. As soon as he’d tracked down his assassin, he’d be leaving England again, for who knew how long. He liked his job and he needed to keep his mind clear for it.
And in the meantime, he’d do his best to give her the child she wanted.
He made love to her again during the night, and again at dawn, having woken hard and aching and unable to resist the temptation of her lying next to him, all soft and enticing.
She woke as he slowly entered her, and she welcomed him with sleepy sensuality. He took her slow and leisurely, and it was just as intense.
He woke an hour later. The candles had long since guttered; the fire lay in ashes. His wife slept curled against him, one cheek pressed against his shoulder, her breathing even and steady. He wanted to take her again, but that would be too much. He slipped out of bed and felt her stir behind him.
“Where—?”
“I’m going for a ride.”
She sat up and made as if to get up. “I’ll come with—”
“No, I have work to do. Go back to sleep.”
***
The door shut firmly behind him and Emm battled with mixed emotions. Why couldn’t she just ask if she could go riding with him? She wasn’t usually so hesitant. It was seven years since she’d ridden, and she would have loved to accompany him as he reacquainted himself with his estate and his tenants.
But perhaps it was something he felt she had no part in. He was the earl and this was his home; she was the newcomer. He’d made it quite clear what he wanted of her—house refurbishing in preparation for the girls’ arrival while he dealt with estate matters. Take responsibility for his sisters and niece and free him to get on with his work. Whatever that work was.
Companionship wasn’t any part of their bargain.
She lay in bed, listening to the noisy chatter of birds outside the window. It had seemed like an offer she couldn’t refuse—security, position, riches and best of all, a family.
And now, after barely two days of marriage, she wanted more. She wanted to ride with him, to talk to him, get to know him better.
To make a friend of him.
Perhaps even make a real marriage of their convenient bargain.
Was she dreaming again, making castles in the air? Or simply greedy?
