She pouted. “Then I must come, I suppose. And I did plan to find another piece of driftwood before dusk.” She gave him an impish smile as she climbed off his lap and was smacked on the bottom for her pains.
“I declare you are a tease, wife.” His newspaper fluttered onto the ground as he rose and drew her away, out of sight of the house behind the broad, nubby trunk of an aged oak. He tilted her chin up, his eyes caressing her. “You want me, too. Say it.” He ran a finger over her bottom lip and bent to kiss it, ending with a small bite. “Say it,” he whispered, his fingers working to free her hair, his body urgent and hard against her.
“Oh yes, Robert, I do. I love you so.”
With one eye on a servant sweeping the path, he framed her face with his hands. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
Kate squirmed out of his grasp. She straightened her bodice. “My lord, please behave. I declare I shall never make a marquess out of you.”
Robert gave a loud hoot of laughter.
The End
The Marquess Meets His Match Page 22