Chapter 5 #3
“I would like that as well. But remember, I have an engagement tonight.”
Was engagement another word for a liaison? Or a theatrical performance?
And was Cash…jealous?
“I do as well,” he sighed. “I’ve promised Matthew I’ll find another wife.”
She chuckled, which wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting, if he’d thought about it at all before stupidly blurting out the words.
“Nay, ye dinnae want another wife.”
He lifted his head to frown at her. “I don’t?”
“Nay,” she repeated, moving her soft strokes to his knuckles now, and smiling gently at him. “Because then I cannae do this with ye again.”
His brow twitched. If he married, he would have to end his liaison with her until he could convince her to become his doxy. “Good point. It is more fun to be informal.”
She lifted her hand and pressed his head back against her shoulder, and he didn’t resist. It was delightfully comfortable here, in this bed, in her arms. Instead of inflaming him, as he’d expected, her touch was soothing and exactly what he needed at that moment.
Of course, the bed wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his bed at Cashard. Could he convince her to join him there someday?
“Informality is essential sometimes.”
Her statement confused him, and he shifted against her as he considered it. “In what way?” he murmured.
“Formality grants power,” she explained, moving her gentle strokes up his arm once more. “A power over one another, but most usually, a power over the female.”
Ah.
“Even with all the laws being discussed lately, allowing for a woman to own her own property?”
She pinched him lightly. “I should have kenned ye would be involved in one of the Houses. Nay, dinnae tell me which one, we have kept our relationship informal up until now.” In other words, she didn’t want to know if he was a titled lord.
“But aye, even with those laws in place. A woman is a reflection of her husband, and her husband’s moods. ”
He was silent for a long while as he digested her words…and their meaning. Finally, he tightened his hold on her. “Is that what happened with Callan’s father?”
Her only response was a slight hum, and he decided to push her further.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
When she shrugged a bit too nonchalantly, he was almost dislodged. “What is there to tell? I thought I was in love with him, and he was verra handsome. But by the time I realized I was pregnant, I had also realized what kind of man he was.”
This was enough of a surprise that Cash lifted his head again to frown down at her. “What happened?”
Athena turned her head so she was staring at the window when she answered.
“He did what he thought was the honorable thing and proposed marriage. I told him I had nae interest in yoking myself to a bully who used his power to hurt others. He gave me a black eye. I pointed out he was proving my point, and we parted.”
Her tone was far too nonchalant, and the way she told of his abuse had Cash sucking in a breath. But he considered his words before he spoke.
“All this time…I assumed you had been abandoned by Callan’s father.”
A laugh burst out of her, and she sat up, dislodging him. The laugh hadn’t been entirely joyful, but it wasn’t hopeless either. At least she was meeting his eyes now as she patted his arm.
“Rather, let us say I abandoned him. I ken what I want out of my life, Cash, and I can imagine what it is like to be married to a man who doesnae love me. Did ye love yer wife?”
The question struck him as surely as a blade, and he reared back. “What?”
“It is a simple question. Did ye love Matthew’s mother?”
He blinked and shifted in the bed, resting his forearms across his legs, more for a chance to think than because he was uncomfortable. No, he was already missing her touch.
“I…cared for her. She was a local lady, and I thought we would suit.”
“Did ye?”
It had been almost ten years since Amanda’s death, but he tried to remember their time together.
Shrugging, he admitted, “Well enough, I suppose. We were married only a year. As I recall, she seemed much more interested in being a—” He bit down on the word duchess.
“Well, she seemed more interested in making use of my assets than in me.”
“And ye were interested in only her assets as a wife and mother, eh?” She nudged him. “She gave ye an heir.”
He hated to admit it, but she was right. He and Amanda had had a marriage like many others in Society: she had married him to become a duchess, and he had married her to beget the next Duke of Cashard. There was nothing wrong with that, but he could suddenly see where it might, perhaps, be lacking.
He had a choice here. He could be affronted, or he could recognize Athena’s point—and therefore her life choices—had merit.
Slowly, he nodded. “We suited, but no, I didn’t love her. I like to think there were merits to being my wife, but I can see how you might not think so.”
“Nay!”
Suddenly, she was kneeling in front of him, her palms on his cheeks, holding him steady so she could look into his eyes. God in Heaven, but she was magnificent with those beautiful red curls falling down around her pale breasts.
“Nay, Cash,” she repeated, softer. “Whoever ye are, whatever role ye fulfill or title ye carry, remember this: as a man, ye are worth more. Ye are worth all the merit in the world.” Her serious expression softened as her thumbs gently caressed his cheeks.
“If a woman ever found herself lucky enough to be loved by ye, she should insist on marrying ye.”
Slowly, she grinned and lowered her lips to his.
As he wrapped his arms around her and fell back against the pillows, half his mind was on the kiss, and the other on her words. Marry? When she’d just been speaking of informal liaisons? No, she’d only mentioned marriage in conjunction with love.
All he knew was, he needed this woman in his life. Doxy wasn’t the right word for her; she was a strong-minded woman who knew what she wanted—needed—from life, and wasn’t afraid to let Society’s rules get in her way. But could he convince her to become his mistress? To do this more often?
“Cash,” she murmured, her lips finding the skin of his neck. “I can tell when ye are distracted.”
He was, wasn’t he? Chuckling, he tugged at her until she was mounted atop him, her glorious red hair falling like a curtain around them as she grinned down at him.
Her hands were planted on either side of his shoulders, and her plump breasts were close enough to cup.
He loved how she was all curves, her body softened by motherhood and enjoyment of life.
She was no young debutante—like whichever virgin the blasted Lady Dumpkins was going to toss his way that evening—but a flesh-and-blood woman who wasn’t afraid to take her pleasure.
Just thinking of that pleasure had his cock stirring against the cleft of her arse.
His gaze on her breasts, Cash settled his hands on her thighs, his fingers inches from her curls. “I was just thinking of luncheon,” he murmured, lying.
She hummed speculatively, shifting backward so their bodies were more closely aligned. “Ye are hungry, are ye?”
They had all afternoon.
He pulled her toward him. As their lips met, he growled, “For you? Always.”