She grabbed his coat as the door closed and roughly pulled it down, enjoying his shocked sputter of laughter as she yanked it off his arms and dropped it to the floor before moving to the buttons of his waistcoat.
“I believe you are trying to make me blush, my lady.”
“I see no sign of a blush yet, my lord.” But she would, before she was finished with him.
He braced his feet as she pulled off his waistcoat and flung it behind her.
His eyes flickered from the discarded garment back to her face. “You are perhaps the most careless valet I have ever seen,” he said mildly.
Mia shoved him onto the bed before turning her back to him and straddling his booted leg, looking back over her shoulder. “Push,” she ordered.
He bit his lower lip and shook with laughter, but brought his other foot up and gave her bottom a firm push. She dropped his boot and grabbed his other foot, taking the same position.
“While your valeting skills leave something to be desired, you are the most attractive bootjack I’ve ever used,” he said, pushing against her buttock with his stockinged foot.
Mia tossed his other boot off to the side and then converged upon him, deftly unbuttoning his breeches and shoving him onto his back.
He lifted his hips and she yanked them off, pulling off each stocking while she was in the process. She hiked her skirts to her waist to climb on top of him but found herself on her back before she knew what had happened.
He stared down at her. “I’ll take over from here, darling.”
* * *
Mia pushed herself up onto her elbows and crawled backward. He lunged forward to grab her, but she was faster. But she had nowhere to go and the headboard cut off her retreat.
“You’ve reached the end of the road,” he said, backing her up against the ornately carved wood. She bent close, rather than trying to get away, flicking her tongue over one of his nipples.
“Witch,” he hissed, his eyes closing.
Her skilled tongue worked his nipples, alternating painful little nips with soothing sucking while his erection pulsed between them.
“You are so beautiful,” she murmured, her sharp teeth catching him and pulling, the pain exquisite. “Ever since the day you kissed me at my father’s house, I become wet whenever I think of making love to you.”
Adam’s brain severed its connection with the rest of his body. He slammed her against the headboard, tearing her gown in his haste to spread her legs. He slid his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her up, his fingers digging into her flesh as he impaled her.
She bit the side of his neck hard enough to make him cry out and he lifted her higher, positioning her for deeper penetration, grunting and straining as he drove into her. He crushed her breasts against him, his muscles screaming with effort, her legs tight around his hips as he slammed into her like a battering ram.
He heard an odd noise and realized it was Mia and that she was laughing with each brutal thrust.
She met his startled gaze with eyes that were fired with pleasure. “Oh Adam, forgive me,” she gasped, “I am only laughing because I am so happy I cannot help it.”
He couldn’t resist a smile—in between gasping for air and thrusting. Her laughter was infectious and he found himself laughing at her sheer enjoyment, redoubling his efforts to bring her through to climax.
At the sound of her long, guttural moan, he allowed himself the release he had been holding back. Every muscle in his body tensed as he spent himself inside her, his legs and arse suddenly wobbly and weak. He lowered her onto her back and then collapsed beside her with a groan, luxuriating in the loose-limbed feeling of exhaustion, the air growing cold on his sweat-slicked skin as he slowly came back to himself.
* * *
Mia felt him laugh beside her.
“What is it?”
“I pains me, but I’m afraid I will have to give Sayer the sack,” her husband said, his voice still thick with passion.
Mia’s giggle turned into a groan when he pulled his arm out from under her.
“Where are you going? I will bathe you.” She propped herself up on her elbow.
Adam shook his head emphatically. “I would not survive it. Are you prepared to go to the dinner party without me? Are you ready to tell everyone that you have put a period to my existence after less than a week of marriage?”
“There will be no premature death. I’m not finished with you, yet, my lord. Once I have finished cleaning every part of you, I will turn you over to Sayer for dressing.”
Needless to say, the bathing took significantly longer than anticipated.
* * *
When Mia entered her chambers almost two hours later, she found a new gown on her bed, a card in the bodice.
There was only one sentence, written in a surprisingly compact hand:
Come to my study after you’ve dressed. A.
Mia ran her thumb over the note, charmed to think of him penning a missive to her, no matter how brief. The dress was gorgeous. More importantly, it was something he’d chosen just for her.
The underdress was emerald green silk, but only hints of the sheath were visible beneath layers of antique gold lace that floated over the skirt. It was high-waisted and the bodice fit her like a glove. It was devoid of any other adornment or frippery and was striking in its simplicity. Even LaValle, whose superior French taste generally meant she turned her nose up at English fashions, looked impressed.
Mia rushed LaValle as she dressed her hair, eager to thank Adam for the spectacular garment. When she entered the study the look he gave her as he rose from behind the large desk was all she could have wanted.
His face was serious and unsmiling, as usual, but his magnificent eyes swept over her several times, taking in every detail.
“You look . . .” He stopped, shaking his head and finally shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “I don’t have a word for how exquisite you look.” His lips flexed into the slight smile that made her wish to be in bed with him again. Or even on the big leather couch across from his desk.
Mia dropped a deep curtsy at his praise. “Thank you so much, Adam. Your taste is divine.”
“I still think you are missing something.”
She looked down at her gloves and the front of her gown. “What?”
He walked back to his desk and took a large black velvet box from the top drawer.
Mia pursed her mouth and shook her head. “Oh Adam, I have nothing for you. You are making me feel terrible.”
“Yes, you’d better work on that, Lady Exley.” His mouth twisted mockingly as he placed the box in her hands. “Now, shut up and open your gift.”
She stroked the smooth velvet for a moment as she considered his handsome face. He met her eyes with his standard haughty look.
“Thank you.” Her heart twisted in her chest at his cold expression. He thought to fool her, but Mia already knew it was a disguise he donned whenever his emotions rose too close to the surface.
“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t opened the box.” He folded his arms and leaned back against his desk, his pose one of indolence. “Perhaps it contains a live ferret? Or maybe a dead ferret?”
She couldn’t help laughing.
“Hush and open it.” His face was severe but his lips twitched.
The necklace and earrings in the box took away Mia’s breath. She stared in disbelief at the enormous emeralds, set in a delicate filigree that looked like a golden spider’s web. She glanced up, her mouth open.
Adam dropped his jaw and goggled and she laughed. His playfulness was more delightful than the beautiful gift in the box, but of course she could not tell him that. He took the box from her hands and turned her around, his hands warm and strong on the naked flesh of her arms.
A shiver of desire went through her as his fingers brushed her neck, removing her necklace and drawing the new one around her throat and fastening it. His hands smoothed and centered the jewelry before settling on her shoulders and giv
ing her an almost imperceptible squeeze. He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck.
“You look good enough to eat,” he murmured. “I will save room for dessert.” The words were barely a whisper and his devilish hands were as light as feathers as he stroked her arms.
He turned her around in a businesslike manner and took her arm, gloved to past the elbow, and clasped the matching bracelet around her wrist, his hot eyes making a lie of his prosaic behavior.
“You must fasten your own earrings, darling. I’m afraid I’d be stabbing about uselessly.”
Mia had lived for thirty-two years and never been anyone’s darling. The casual endearment made blood surge loudly in her ears. She wanted to throw herself into his arms but instead she removed and replaced each earring, requiring no mirror. When she was finished she looked up at him, her insides molten at the memory of the word darling on his tongue. Her vision blurred with sudden tears and she stepped toward him and slid her arms around his waist.
“What’s this?” he asked, his chest rumbling against her ear.
“Thank you, Adam.” She pushed closer and smiled when she felt evidence of his desire for her. “Already, my lord?”
“It’s been a long time,” he whispered into her hair.
“Almost three hours.”
She reached up and pulled his face down, impatient for the taste of him.
“You are the devil,” he accused, catching her lower lip in his teeth and holding her for a long moment, his eyes hooded and hot.
Hill entered the room and then took a step backward. “Ahem. I beg your pardon, my lord. The carriage has been brought around. As you ordered,” he reminded, his stare like a rabbit’s transfixed by a cobra.
“Thank you, Hill,” Mia cut in, before Adam gave the poor man one of his frosty setdowns. The steward darted out of the room just like the hare he’d resembled.
Mia gave Adam one last squeeze through his breeches and straightened his crushed cravat.
“I suppose I should be grateful I didn’t have you bent over the desk when Hill came in.”
Mia chuckled. “I’m not.” She stepped back, her entire body thrumming with desire.
He caught her wrist and yanked her back.
“I shall be able to think of nothing else all night.” The words were menacing but his eyes were dark with promise.
Chapter Twenty
Mia gazed out the carriage window as she thought back on the events of the past two weeks, some of the happiest of her life. They’d delayed their departure from London several times over the prior weeks. Not only did the Mantons remain in town, but Adam toured Mia around the London sights when he learned nobody else had bothered to take the time.
He truly was a man transformed. Gone was the impassive, bored, or contemptuous marquess she’d married. Beneath that cool, cultivated façade was a lover who was playful, witty, and generous.
Mia reflected on the nights—and days—of passion with a pleasurable shiver. Adam de Courtney was turning out to be more fascinating than she ever could have imagined. She found that sharing her life with a man was like suddenly discovering dozens of new colors that you never even knew existed. And Mia was supposed to leave him.
She shivered.
“Are you chilled, my dear?” Adam asked, looking up from the book he was reading. He was sitting on the seat across from her, an ocean of cushions and rugs scattered between them.
“I am,” she lied. “Won’t you sit beside me? Only to keep me warm,” she added quickly when he looked ready to scold.
“Only to keep you warm.” He closed his book and shifted gracefully across to her side of the luxurious and well-sprung coach.
“Come here,” he said, leaning back in the corner and beckoning her toward the space between his legs.
She pushed up close between his thighs and lay against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her lightly but firmly beneath her breasts while his legs gripped her more securely.
“Mm,” she sighed, shifting and adjusting cushions under her legs and feet until she felt a deep laugh in his chest, his arm tightening around her as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
“You are just like the Mantons’ cat.”
“Their cat?”
“Yes, their cat. I believe they call the beast Boadicea, which is not surprising for them, I suppose.”
“How am I like a cat?” she persisted, pleased by the happy, relaxed note in his voice.
“The way you take a sensual pleasure in your surroundings and comfort. Although you’re so small that maybe I should say you’re like a kitten.”
Mia sighed and snuggled closer. She was thoroughly enjoying the journey even though an unexpected summer storm made their post stops a wet, muddy business. She was eager to see her new home but she couldn’t help treasuring the novelty of a long carriage ride with her husband.
The truth was, Mia was far from miserable with her life and that realization made her feel guilty. Every day she promised herself she’d begin taking steps toward making her escape. Yet every day ended with her no closer to selling her jewelry or sending a message to Bouchard.
Was her hesitation purely selfish or had Ramsay been correct in saying her presence in the middle of a violent struggle would not help Jibril’s cause? Mia nibbled on the end of a curl that insisted on breaking free and tickling her nose. She might view Jibril as a boy, but men were fighting and dying because they wanted him as their leader. It had been her son who’d pleaded with her to go to England to begin with.
But wasn’t that argument merely self-serving?
Mia didn’t think so. Instead, she was beginning to see merit in Ramsay’s suggestion she tell Adam the truth and bring Jibril to England. Adam had been a social outcast for years and had done well enough for himself; why could not Jibril do the same?
Mia released the strand of hair and frowned. She was not even sure anymore if she could leave her husband. Every day she became more certain she loved him; not that she had any experience in what love was supposed to feel like. Whatever she felt for him, she didn’t want to live without it. She absently stroked her hand down his thigh.
“Mia,” Adam warned.
“I won’t, Adam, I promise.” She stopped her stroking but smiled as she felt his stiffness against her back. In the middle of their last tussle in the carriage—earlier that day—the vehicle had become stuck in a deep rut. Adam had been forced to curtail his pleasure and had warned her against teasing him any further en route.
“I shan’t let you work me into a lather and then be forced to muck around in a ditch with a bloody cockstand,” he’d muttered.
Mia almost giggled as she recalled his irritation. He had been at attention.
It had taken all five men to budge the large vehicle. By the time Adam reentered the carriage he’d been wet and muddied almost to the tops of his boots. Mia stroked the soft buckskin of his breeches at the memory. Why was it she found him even more arousing covered in mud and disheveled? His hand closed over hers, steadying the stroking gesture she’d unconsciously resumed.
Mia closed her eyes. It had been only two weeks. Surely she could consider the matter for a little longer before making any decisions? Perhaps she might even tell him the truth?
* * *
“We are here, my lady,” Adam told his gently snoring wife.
“Mm?” She pushed herself up off his chest, where she’d spent the last two hours of the journey sleeping like a cat, curled up in his lap. “Already?”
“Yes, already,” he agreed drily. Adam raised the shade higher as the carriage rolled beneath the exterior castle wall into the large cobbled courtyard. It was past dusk but the drive was well-lighted with torches burning in the ancient holders.
The structure was a fine example of a walled castle, built to protect the early coastline from invaders. The river that had used to run in front of it had spread into a sluggish estuary, and the outlet had been abandoned as other, deeper water ports developed.
Over the years Exham Castle had seen many changes. The moat, of course, no longer held water and wooden spikes but was only visible as a slight indentation, now filled with grasses and wildflowers.
Adam had spent a good deal of time and money reconstructing those parts of the old wall that had crumbled. The rock he’d used had been quarried from the same sites as the original and painstakingly milled to fit the gaps. He’d been pleased by the result, a façade that looked almost uniform. It was not the most comfortable place to live but he always felt a rush of pride when he beheld it for the first time after a long absence.
Jessica was standing in front of the rather barbaric main entrance, where more torches burned in massive medieval holders, much as they must have done hundreds of years ago.
Adam shoved through the myriad of pillows his wife required in every situation and opened the door to the carriage, leaping out before the steps had been placed. He stretched and yawned as one of the footmen unfolded the steps. Adam reached for Mia’s hand and grinned at the expression on her face, which was wondrous as she took in the castle behind him.
“It is so magnificent and imposing.” She didn’t bother looking where she was stepping but luckily, he was close enough to catch her, whispering in her ear as he lowered her to the ground.
“You must be more careful, my dear. We don’t want my detractors saying I murdered you the very day you arrived.”
She looked so startled he laughed.
“Welcome home, Adam. I’m sorry I don’t have everyone here to greet you, but we believed you had been delayed when you didn’t show up earlier.”
Adam turned to greet his sister. “We ran into some rather wet weather both days, I’m afraid. Sorry to have left you guessing.” He took Jessica’s hands and smiled down at her. “You are looking well, Sister.”
She flushed, discomposed by his unusual gesture of affection. A small, nervous smile spasmed across her narrow, pale face and Adam realized how changed he must appear. Well, for better or worse, he was changed.
“Jessica, this is your new sister—Mia.”
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