Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
When I reached the final, haunting note, the sound of applause startled me. I whirled about, heart leaping into my throat, to discover that I had an audience. Alexander watched me from the door to the music room, gazing at me with such blatant affection that I had to swallow hard to maintain my composure.
“Husband.” I offered him a curtsy, feeling foolish for not realizing he had been watching and listening. “I hadn’t realized you were at home, or else I wouldn’t have been picking at keys.”
He sketched an elegant bow and then strode into the room, bringing the vitality of the outdoors with him. He was dressed for riding, and I knew he had been out tending to the estate again with Mr. Warwick. What a dashing figure he cut, his long hair held in a queue at his nape, his breeches outlining muscular thighs, his boots gleaming. As he approached me, I caught his familiar scent of leather and fresh country air.
His dark eyes were warm upon me as he reached for my hand and brought it to his lips for a reverent kiss. “Then I am glad you didn’t realize I had returned, or else I might have missed the opportunity to hear my beautiful wife play.”
He chased my sadness with such ease. How happy he made me.
I smiled at him as he delivered lingering kisses to my knuckles. “I believe you are being far too gallant. I haven’t played in many years.”
“Time has not diminished your talent.”
“My fingers are not as agile as they were in my youth.” I thought of the reddened skin, the scars I bore from years of drudgery as a maid and suffering punishments from my father.
Here at Wheaton, I had grown accustomed to occasionally foregoing my gloves over the last few weeks. But reminders such as this brought back my shame over the state of my hands.
“Your fingers are perfect. As you are.” As if to prove his point, Alexander delivered a new round of kisses to my knuckles.
“My hands will never be the soft, beautiful hands of a lady.”
That had been taken from me. But I didn’t mourn the loss so much for myself as for my husband. I wanted to be the wife he deserved.
“I adore your hands.” In demonstration, he turned mine over, exposing my palm where the damage was worst, and kissed me reverently there. “They are beautiful and soft, and they most definitely belong to a lady. To the finest lady I am privileged to know.” He kissed me again, his eyes burning into mine. “I especially love them when they touch me.”
Longing hit me. “Then perhaps they should touch you now.”
A slow, wicked grin curved his lips. “Why, Lady Wheaton, you do surprise me with your offer. What am I, your humble servant, to do but accept?”
“Surely you must be hungry from your travels this morning,” I suggested thickly.
“I am starving, Maddie mine,” he murmured, drawing me into his arms and holding me against his big, broad chest.
I felt safe. Comforted. I also felt desired. I wrapped my arms around his neck, the lingering sadness gone. I may have lost the old life I once had, but this was my new life, and it was brimming with hope.
“Then you must have your repast,” I told him, tilting my head back and offering him my lips.
“Oh, that I shall.” His mouth teased mine in a gentle kiss that left me yearning for him. “Come to my bedchamber with me, and I’ll have my fill.”
“In the midst of the day, my lord?” I feigned astonishment.
But in truth, we didn’t relegate our lovemaking to the nights, and I didn’t mind one bit. My husband’s appetite matched my own in that regard.
“I can’t wait another minute.” He kissed me again.
“But what will the servants think?”
“That I cannot resist the incomparable Lady Wheaton.” He nuzzled my throat. “And they would be correct. Now, come with me, wife. I don’t think that piano bench is robust enough for what I have in mind…”
I laughed, feeling giddy, and allowed my husband to lead me from the music room, our hands entwined. We made our way through the main hall and up the curved wooden staircase to the floor housing our adjoined rooms. It occurred to me that Lydia might be within my bedchamber, sorting through some of the laundry that would have been brought up from the washhouse. But Alexander led me to his room, sparing me the need to fret.
We made our way over the threshold, and the door had scarcely even clicked closed before I was in his arms and his mouth was on mine. We undressed each other with trembling hands. Buttons and hooks and tapes opened. It didn’t matter that we had been married and making love for weeks now. I was even more caught up in my feelings for him. I knelt on the floor and helped him to tug off his boots. He rolled down my stockings, his lips trailing a reverent path over the bare skin he newly revealed.