Miss Winthorpe's Elopement (Belston & Friends #1)(62)

When she came back to herself, they had moved very little. She held him inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he was leaning over her on the table, staring down into her face.

He dropped a kiss on her lips, and glanced around the shambles they had made of dinner. What clothing they had managed to remove was scattered around them, chairs were tipped, and goblets were knocked over on the table. He reached beside her, and fed her a candied apricot from the dessert tray, watching her mouth with interest as she ate. ‘In case you are wondering,’ he said, ‘I had intended something a bit more sedate for our first evening together.’

‘Oh, really?’ she touched her tongue to her lips, and waited as he offered her a bit of cake.

He furrowed his brow. ‘I believe my original plan was to seduce you at my leisure, and render you docile and agreeable through lust.’

‘And my garter?’

‘Is tied around my shirt sleeve, for I thought, perhaps, you would summon the nerve to help me off with my jacket.’

‘And what do you think of your plan now?’ She shifted her legs to grip him tighter.

He sighed and smiled. ‘It is an utter failure. You control me body and soul. Command me.’ And he looked supremely happy to have lost.

She released him, and offered her hand to him, so that he could help her down from the table. ‘Take me to our bedroom.’

His smile broadened and he scooped up her dress and tossed it over her head. Laughing and whispering, they collected the rest of the discarded clothing and a plate of cakes. Then he opened the door, checked the hall to make sure it was empty and they ran from the room together, not stopping until they were safely behind the closed bedroom door.





Chapter Nineteen




Adam came down to the breakfast room and took his usual seat. His coffee was already poured, the mail was stacked beside the plate, and his wife was seated at his side. Life was as close to perfect as any man had a right to expect.

Penny was as happy in Wales as he had known she would be, even more so now that they had each other. For a month, they had awoken every morning, tangled in the sheets and each other, breakfasted together, and then he went to his study, and she to the library. He could read his paper, ride out to inspect the property, or argue with the workmen who had begun renovations on the ballroom, knowing that when he came back, his steadfast Penelope would be waiting for him.

They had not yet made love in the library, perhaps because he had spent so little time there, before Penny had come to the house. She had learned the measure of him, on that first night. And now, if she felt he was growing morose, or attempting to dwell in the past, she had but to lock the door and show him a flash of garter, and he was lost to the world.

But any suggestions made in the library would be of his own doing. He looked up into her face, startled by the thought, and smiled as he caught her looking at him.

‘Excuse me?’

‘What?’

‘Was there something…?’

They spoke in unison, to cover their mutual confusion, and fell silent at the same time.

‘The eggs,’ he lied. ‘I bit down on a piece of shell.’

‘I will speak to Cook.’

‘Do not worry, it is nothing.’

She nodded and looked down into her plate.

‘They are very good eggs today,’ he supplied. ‘The best I have ever tasted, I think.’

‘You say that every morning.’ She went back to her breakfast. But she was blushing.

At some point, he would have to return to London, or share her with the world. But not just yet. For now, they were the only two people on earth, and it was enough. He opened the first letter on the stack, and a folded sheet dropped on to his plate.

…torment me no longer. For I cannot live without the perfection of your body, the taste of your kiss, the sound of your voice as you call my name…



He recognised his own hand, and remembered the letter well. It had been drunken folly to have written it. He should have thrown it on the fire rather than sent it. And it was hardly the most damning thing he put to paper in the months before the fire.

It was accompanied by another sheet, with a single line.

Come to me at Colton, or I shall go to her.

Clare

She had followed them to Wales.

‘Something interesting in the mail?’ Penny did not look up from her tea.

‘Nothing important.’ Perhaps he had grown better at concealing his feelings from her, for she did not seem to notice that the room had gone cold, or that his mouth had filled with smoke and ashes.

‘Then I will leave you to it, and return to work.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Ithaca calls.’

‘With its rosy fingers of dawn?’

‘There must be a better way to say that,’ she said, and wandered down the hall, lost in thought.

He stared back at the letter in front of him, and then threw it into the fireplace, watching the edges curl and the words disappear. He poked at the bits of ash until there could be nothing left of them to read.

Then he went to the stables to saddle a horse.

The Colton property abutted his, and as he rode toward it, he could feel the tightening in his chest. He should have spoken the truth to Penny, and got it over with. Soon she would be seeing Clarissa again, and that it would be impossible to avoid contact, if the Coltons had returned to Wales.