“You know, you used to like to prance about in boots,” he reminded her with an innocent gaze.
“Boys’ boots. And several layers of boys’ clothing, not to mention the fact my breasts were bound, as you recall,” she said primly.
He patted the bed next to where he lay, unclothed himself except for breeches. “No binding your breasts,” he chided, patting the bed invitingly again.
She crawled up beside him and snuggled against his side, wondering in gratification why she bothered to put a night rail on anyway before coming to join him. His arms wrapped around her at once, one hand already fiddling with one of the night rail’s multiple bows.
“No boots?” he said, pretending to sigh.
“No. I no longer need to wear lads’ clothing. I am allowed to be me, as I am. Thank you, good sir.”
“You are welcome. Although, you could thank me by putting on those boots ..
“Very well,” she said, and then she laughed at the astonished look on his face, his jaw dropped in surprise. She put her hand on his bare chest, loving to feel his heart as it beat steadily beneath her touch—but now his eyes narrowed.
“You agreed, and too easily,” he said suspiciously, even though he was grinning. “What is the toll I must pay to see you in naught but boots?”
“Well... I cannot think why I should be the only one so attired.”
His eyes widened again, and she laughed, and any more talk of boots was forgotten anyway as Benjamin proved that he did indeed know a great deal about his wife’s desires.
Teresa Desjardien lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, where she dwells in suburban domestic bliss (even if it does rain a lot). She has limited her pets to one cat, and her family to one husband and two children. She enjoys writing about the Regency period because ladies wore copious jewels every day if they wished, and the men looked quite dashing in their cravats and tailored pantaloons. She enjoys hearing from readers—you may write to her at: P.O. Box 33323, Seattle, WA 98133.
The Bartered Bridegroom Page 25