“Of course,” he replied at once, pulling back the covers and taking her straight into his arms. “We can change rooms around, redecorate, buy new furniture… the formal dining room always seems oppressive to me. And the drawing room.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you said that! And we could entertain, invite friends more often, even hold a ball. We could invite particular friends to stay.”
“Of course. It’s time the place was livelier. Also… how would you feel about changing bedchambers? Mine is so distant from yours that it is positively isolating. It’s as if we each have our own wing in the house!”
She hugged him. “I think that is an excellent idea.”
“I thought we could turn my adjoining sitting room into your bedchamber. There are smaller rooms leading off both that we could make into private sitting rooms if we wished.”
“I should like that,” she said.
He caught the hem of her night rail, deliberately pushing it up and over her arms and head. His breathing quickened as his eyes devoured her in the candlelight. “Although I admit I have an ulterior motive. My aim, if you don’t banish me, is to sleep in your bed every night.”
Only when he said the words did she realize they were what she most wanted to hear. Her whole body flushed under his caresses.
“Just sleep?” she said breathlessly.
“Eventually,” he said, cupping her full breasts, and softly kissing them. “I want to love you every night and every morning. And in between, I want to fall asleep with you in my arms. I had almost forgotten how beautiful you are…”
He rolled so that she lay on top of him. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, while they kissed. And then, for the first time, she explored his body as she had always longed to, inch by inch. Desire smoldered as she smoothed her palms over the hard planes and rippling muscles, kissing each battle scar, trailing her fingertips over his chest and downward to his waist and hips and thighs, to the erect shaft between.
In a surge of lust, wanton and daring, she took him within her. He groaned, holding her hips as though to savor the moment.
“Love me as you did this afternoon,” she whispered.
“That was then,” he said, “This is now, and different. We have all night.”
And so he showed her the beauty of long, languorous loving. Unhurriedly, they took each other on a sensual, rambling journey that brought them each to joy. Several joys. Only then, totally and deliriously exhausted, did they fall asleep.
Chapter Eighteen
The wonder of last night, and indeed all the events of the preceding day, were still with Frances as she fed Jamie the following morning. Alan slumbered on beside her, his face contented and boyish in sleep, his bandaged arm flung up on the pillow above his head. A fresh rush of love flooded her, for him and the baby in her arms.
How can one woman be so lucky? She smiled to herself because when she had left Torridon so recently, her emotions had been so different. Not the love. That had always been there, but it had not made her happy. She was wiser now.
With her free hand, she stroked her husband’s hair off his forehead. From outside came the clip-clop of horses trotting up the drive to the front of the house. It must have been later than she had thought, although no one had disturbed them.
Since Jamie had stopped feeding to do a bit of gurgling and smiling instead, she slid out of bed and carried him to the window. Gillie and Lord Wickenden were dismounting as a groom ran up to take the horses. On impulse, Frances adjusted her nightgown to its proper state, and threw open the window.
“Good morning!” she called down. “Am I late, or are you early callers?”
“We’re early,” Gillie shouted back, waving. “Eager to share the news!”
“What news?” Frances asked.
“The war is over,” Wickenden answered. “The Russians are in Paris, and Bonaparte has abdicated. Finally!”
Abruptly, Torridon all but smacked into her back. Totally naked and using her as a shield, he called, “Truly?”
“Truly.” Wickenden waved his newspaper. “The details are all here.”
“We’re coming down,” Torridon assured him.
“Goodness,” Frances said awed, as he closed the window. The war had been going on as long as she could remember—longer, in fact. “It seems everything is changing. A new dawn, a new life. There will be peace. At last.”
Torridon took Jamie from her and placed him in the center of the bed, where he did his best to turn over. Frances laughed and threw herself into her husband’s arms, spinning him around in a mad waltz.
“This is wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Such a year for everyone. And now the girls, Jamie, all our children will grow up with peace. I have such a good feeling about this next year, and the ones following, too! For all of us—Gervaise and Eleanor, Serena, Gillie, Kate, and our other friends.”
“Yes, my love, the whole world is happy,” Torridon said with tolerant amusement.
“Well, it should be,” she insisted. “I am.”
He kissed her. “I hope you always will be.”
And she was.
Mary Lancaster’s Newsletter
If you enjoyed The Wicked Wife, and would like to keep up with Mary’s new releases and other book news, please sign up to Mary’s mailing list to receive her occasional Newsletter.
Other Books by Mary Lancaster
VIENNA WALTZ (The Imperial Season, Book 1)
VIENNA WOODS (The Imperial Season, Book 2)
VIENNA DAWN (The Imperial Season, Book 3)
THE WICKED BARON (Blackhaven Brides, Book 1)
THE WICKED LADY (Blackhaven Brides, Book 2)
THE WICKED REBEL (Blackhaven Brides, Book 3)
THE WICKED HUSBAND (Blackhaven Brides, Book 4)
THE WICKED MARQUIS (Blackhaven Brides, Book 5)
THE WICKED GOVERNESS (Blackhaven Brides, Book 6)
THE WICKED SPY (Blackhaven Brides, Book 7)
THE WICKED GYPSY (Blackhaven Brides, Book 8)
REBEL OF ROSS
A PRINCE TO BE FEARED: the love story of Vlad Dracula
AN ENDLESS EXILE
A WORLD TO WIN
About Mary Lancaster
Mary Lancaster’s first love was historical fiction. Her other passions include coffee, chocolate, red wine and black and white films – simultaneously where possible. She hates housework.
As a direct consequence of the first love, she studied history at St. Andrews University. She now writes full time at her seaside home in Scotland, which she shares with her husband, three children and a small, crazy dog.
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The Wicked Wife (Blackhaven Brides Book 9) Page 21