Catching Captain Nash (Dashing Widows #6)(30)
“I’ve enjoyed the time in Town, but it’s not my real life. My real life is Kerenza.” She paused and leveled that thoughtful gaze upon him again. “And you, if you’ll let me make it so.”
“I’d be delighted.” He reached over and pulled down the blinds, plunging the carriage into gloom. He went on as though he hadn’t just shut them into a private space ripe for pleasure. When his wife must know exactly what he planned. “So you’ll think about Devon?”
“Is there anywhere else you’d like to go, anything else you’d like to do? Or is it too soon to ask?”
“I’ve had plenty of time to think about what I want. I’m looking forward to retiring somewhere Arcadian with my lovely wife and my angelic daughter.”
As he’d hoped, his small attempt at humor elicited a laugh. In the shadows, now his vision adjusted, he caught the gleam of her eyes. She watched him steadily, the way he’d watched her when they left London. He’d wondered then how long he’d last before he took her into his lap and slid inside her. The idea made his dick twitch with approval.
He went on. “Silas has offered to turn over a wing of Woodley Park. We could stay in Portsmouth, although God knows what employment I’d find. The town must be crawling with captains on half pay, with the country at peace. Or as I’d originally planned, I could use my prize money to buy an estate. If Devon doesn’t appeal to you, we can go somewhere else. But I had a fancy you might like going back to the West Country.”
Robert stopped to draw breath, surprised he’d managed so many words. He’d got out of the habit of talking when he was in prison, where he’d go days without speaking to anyone.
“Let’s see,” she said slowly, clearly considering the options he laid before her. “I’m drawn to a country life. We could try Belleville. If we find the estate unsuitable, we can reconsider our choice. As Silas’s tenants, we can move easily enough.”
“That’s what he said. And if we like it there, he said he’ll sell Belleville to us.”
“How kind he is.”
“He is. Although he warned me the place is in a deuced mess.”
“I’m happy to scrub and clean,” Morwenna said with a hint of wryness. “I don’t come from the same exalted ranks as you do. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“I hope it won’t come to my wife doubling as the scullery maid. I might be the younger son, but I’m well able to provide for my family.”
My family. How he liked saying that.
He caught the glint of her teeth as she smiled. “What a lot you’ve accomplished in the short time you’ve been back. I’m in awe.”
So was he. Last night he’d lurched into that party like a monster into a feast. He’d looked like a beggar and felt like a ghost. Here he was a mere day later, dressed like a gentleman, on his way to see his daughter, and with the outline of a workable future beginning to appear before him.
A week ago, he wouldn’t have believed it.
Even better, several hours of privacy beckoned. He had a beautiful woman within reach. A beautiful woman he was lucky enough to be married to. “There’s one more thing I want to do before I’ve ticked everything off my list.”
His wife’s low chuckle made his skin prickle. “Your voice goes all low and velvety when you’re thinking about the conjugal act.”
His lips twisted. “Then it’s velvety all the time, because I’m always thinking of getting you under me.”
“It’s...it’s thrilling that you want me.”
“Good,” he said, as burgeoning need defeated his fragile ability to string more than a couple of words together.
“What would you like me to do? Lie down on the seat?”
Her cooperation shot a jolt of heat through him. He lowered his hand to undo his trousers. His cock sprang free, hard and demanding and ready for action. Over the creak of the carriage, Morwenna’s faint squeak of excitement was audible.
“No, not this time. I want you to come here and kneel over me.”
With a rustle of skirts, she scrambled from her seat and arranged herself across his knees. The coach’s lurching made her breathtakingly clumsy. As they dipped into a rut, he caught her by the waist to save her toppling to the floor.
“Dear God in heaven,” he gasped, as sleek feminine folds slid over the hot, tight head of his cock. “You’re not wearing drawers, you naughty girl.”
She shifted to find a more secure position, nudging her knees forward until they closed around his hips. The wriggling meant more wanton, tantalizing touches. He closed his eyes against the explosions going off in his head. He’d imagined he’d take the lead in this encounter. Now his wife’s heart-stopping daring left him not quite so certain about who was in charge.
“Do you mind?” She leaned forward until her body curved against his. The bumpy ride turned the contact into delicious torture, nudging him against her, then away.
“Mind? You make me your slave.”
She gave a husky laugh, and the warm puff of breath against his neck made him shake with need.
“You...mentioned...the carriage...when you...went to...the Admiralty.” Balanced over him as she was, she had to speak in time with the bumping carriage. Bumps that tormented him with the rhythmic slide of her body.