Chapter 19
T hey did not go on a honeymoon.
Many couples went abroad to Europe, but Europe seemed as if it was about to explode at any moment. And the fact was the duke had too much to do. Mercy did not want to take him away from the important endeavors he had, namely shoring up the country from a rebellion like France seemed to be having.
Yes, the news from France over the summer was beginning to bring whispers of country people rising up and doing terrible things. Perhaps warranted things, but terrible, nonetheless.
France was a growing tide of pandemonium, and people were fleeing. London was full of French aristocrats who were distraught, bringing news of people desperate to get out.
It had changed the tenor of things.
Oh, everyone still went to balls and parties and routs and to the races every day. Mercy danced every night from almost sundown to sun up. Certainly, in New York City, she never would’ve imagined that she would be spending her life in dancing slippers, but now she was.
The duke, her darling husband, had explained to her that one of the ways he was able to do the best work was to be seen and to be sought after. And so she was determined to help him. And slowly, all the ton who were envious of her began to seek her out, for they were no fools. She had power, and anyone with sense wanted a bit of that power.
She was careful of the people who smiled at her too much. After all, most of them had been scowling at her but days before.
Still, she was not unkind. She couldn’t be. There was no point in it, and she wanted to make certain that her husband could work with those ladies’ fathers, husbands, brothers to create new bills in the House of Lords to protect England.
And England without an internal war would also protect the United States. She did not want to see a world that was collapsing. No, she wanted to see a world that was safe. Safe for everyone.
So, as she sat at her desk going over the new plans for a building in the city, she beamed.
Leander had found her five different places that he thought would work as a new publishing office. She relished studying each report carefully.
The one just off Fleet Street near Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese would be ideal. Yes, it would be able to host a large volume of production, and she was already in the process of hiring the best people for leather binding, for gold work, and to make certain that they would have the most beautifully set books.
Now, she did not want her books to be so expensive that regular people could not buy them. Still, she wanted them to be of the best quality. She was going to make certain that wonderful, delicious books could be read by as many people as possible, and those people would be able to savor the book they had as a treasure. Quality and quantity.
“Hard at work, are you, my love?” the duke rumbled as he strode through the doorway and into her new domain.
“Yes,” she said, putting her quill down and stretching her neck. “How many printing presses do you think one can fit in a building?”
“Is this a jest?” he teased, coming around behind her and pressing a soft kiss to the curve of her neck “Or a riddle?”
She laughed, and her entire body went molten at that small, soft kiss. “No, no. I’ve missed you,” she declared.
“I know. It’s been hours,” he drawled. “Horrible stuff.”
She batted at his hand and twisted in her chair so that she could look up at him. “Well, every time you go to the House of Lords, somehow, time stands still.”
He groaned. “For you too? It certainly feels that way for me. My God, those people speak as if they were wading through treacle.”
“Poor you,” she teased.
“Yes, you can soothe your poor, tortured husband.”
Her heart began to pound and her body began to yearn for his. “I suppose—”
And then he had her in his arms.
A giggle burst past her lips as he suddenly sat in her chair and brought her down to sit upon his lap. She felt his hard sex through his breeches and her gown.
Her eyes flared. “And how do you need to be soothed?”
His gaze darkened with hunger. “I think you know.”
Leander’s lips parted just before he seized her mouth in a fiery, hot kiss. She gave in immediately, thrilled that, as his wife, she could embrace passion without a second thought.
Within moments, her body was building to a fever pitch of need. His hands were magic, and his lips were heaven.
Swiftly, he worked her skirts up to her waist, and then he adjusted her so that she sat splayed across his lap, facing him.
He seemed to take great delight as he pulled back from the kiss and studied her face while his fingertips stroked into her wet heat.
She gasped. She grabbed hold of his shoulders and surrendered to his touch. Circle after circle, caress after caress, he coaxed her most sensitive spot until she was certain she was going to go over the edge.
“Free me,” he growled, bucking his hips against her.
She blinked, nearly lost in the pleasure he gave, but then she understood. Hands shaking, she worked at his breeches until his hard, hot sex was free of his breeches.
“Guide me,” he whispered, his gaze hooded with love and desire for her.
Her heart skipped a beat as she did as he instructed. She bit her lower lip as the head of his sex teased her opening, and then she lowered herself upon his shaft.
The fullness of it was perfection. And as she rode him, her slippered toes pressing into the floor, he groaned.
And then he pressed with his fingers, and she hurtled into perfection. Just as she called out his name, he grabbed her hips and bucked against her.
Their ragged breathing blended as one, their hearts hammered together, and then… They both began to descend from their pinnacle, full of love.