Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(68)

Charles gave him an astute glance. “It's certainly not the same, is it?” he remarked with the deliberate blandness he always used to mask words of importance. “I confess I wouldn't know how to begin again, especially with a young wife. The things you've already experienced, Tasia knows nothing about. She has years' worth of mistakes, lessons to learn…and yet, to see the world through her eyes is rather like seeing it again for the first time. I rather envy you that.” Charles smiled at Luke's arrested expression. “What is that quote? ‘Though youth gave us love and roses, age still leaves us friends and wine…’” He raised his glass in a toast. “My advice is to enjoy your second taste of youth, Stokehurst. And leave the wine to me.”

The lamps were turned discreetly low as Luke entered the bedroom. Tasia was alone, waiting for him with her hands clasped at her midriff. She was dressed in a linen nightgown trimmed with lace, her hair falling in a cloud of curls down her back. She was so beautiful, so fresh and innocent. Luke caught a glimpse of the gold band on her finger, and the knowledge of all that it signified was overwhelming. He had never wanted to care about a woman like this, had actually feared it, but now that all was said and done, he was glad. He had never felt such happiness, and with it came the curious relief of being unguarded, humble, human.

“Lady Stokehurst,” he whispered, pulling her against his robe-covered chest. “You look like an angel in white.”

“Cousin Alicia gave this to me.” She fingered the sleeve of the gown, staring at him with luminous cat-eyes.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

Tasia wore a little frown. “My lord, I wish to discuss something important with you.”

“Oh?” Luke toyed with her long curls as he waited for her to continue.

She rested a supplicating hand on his chest. “I expected that we would share the same room tonight. But I thought that you should be made aware of my instructions to Mrs. Knaggs that beginning tomorrow we will occupy separate bedrooms.”

Luke's only visible reaction was a slight quirk of the eyebrows. They had never discussed sleeping arrangements. He had thought there would be no question that they would share the same bed. “I didn't marry you in order to sleep apart from you,” he replied.

“Naturally you will have the right to visit my bed whenever you feel the inclination, my lord.” Tasia smiled shyly. “My parents had this kind of arrangement, as do the Ashbournes. It's only proper. Alicia says that it's very common in England.”

Luke contemplated her silently. No doubt there was a variety of marriage manuals and ladies' magazines that recommended separate beds as a feature of a respectable home. He didn't care about anyone's arrangement but his. He'd be damned if he spent one minute sleeping apart from Tasia merely to satisfy someone else's notion of a proper marriage.

He tightened his arm around her back. “Tasia, I will want you every night—and I don't much care for the idea of ‘visiting’ my wife. Don't you think it would be more convenient if we shared this room?”

“It's not a question of convenience,” she said earnestly. “If we have only one room, people will know that we occupy the same bed every single night.”

“God, no,” he said, looking appalled. He scooped her up in his arms, carried her to the raised bed, and dropped her onto the wide expanse of ivory silk.

Tasia frowned at his sarcasm. “My lord, I'm trying to explain about propriety—”

“I'm listening.”

But he wasn't, really. His hand played over her body, sliding from her hip to her breast until her explanation became all muddled. He bent over her br**sts, licking through the bodice of her gown as he searched for a taste of skin beneath the rough screen of lace. Finding the hardened peak of one nipple, he bit lightly, and then stroked the damp lace with his tongue. Tasia gasped and fell silent.

“Go on,” Luke murmured, peeling the gown away from her breast. His breath fell hotly on her na**d skin. “Tell me about propriety.”

She only moaned and reached for him, pulling his head closer. Smiling, he kissed the velvety tip and opened his mouth, drawing her tender flesh gently between his teeth. The idea of separate rooms was abandoned, as Luke gave her a thorough demonstration of why they would require only one room and one bed.

Tasia had married Luke with the expectation of finding peace. The past year had been so tumultuous that all she wanted now was a quiet, orderly life. She soon found out that Luke had different plans in mind. He began by taking her to London, despite her objections to leaving Emma. “My parents will be coming to stay with Emma,” Luke said, lounging on the bed as he watched Tasia comb out her long hair. “She understands that newlyweds require some time alone to get used to each other. Besides, Emma likes nothing better than to bait my mother.”

“She'll be up to mischief,” Tasia warned, frowning at the thought of Emma left to run wild, with only the servants and two elderly grandparents to restrain her.

Luke smiled at her prim reflection in the mirror. “So will we.”

Tasia was enchanted by the Stokehurst house in London, an Italianate villa situated on the Thames River. The house had three round towers with cone-shaped roofs. It was surrounded on three sides with picturesque shaded loggias. There were several indoor fountains adorned with antique tiles or marble sculpture. The previous owner had liked the sound of splashing water so much that he had wanted to hear it from every hall in the house.