Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
I an could not recall the last time he had slept so well.
The sunlight filtered in through the windows, waking him gently. He shifted slightly—then froze at the feeling of a light unfamiliar weight against him.
His wife, curled up against him with his arms around her waist and her head against his chest.
Ian was no stranger to waking up with a woman in his arms. Usually, of course, he would leave at once, or else the lady in question would leave to return discreetly to her own abode.
Now, though, he could not help but remain still, and look down at Cecilia as she curled into him.
In sleep, she was as peaceful as she was fiery when awake. The sunlight danced in her lashes, which fluttered slightly. Was she dreaming?
If so, what was she dreaming about?
Her naked shoulder blades rose and fell with each breath she took. His eyes traced along the lines of her body, at last bared before him. She was ravishingly tempting with every curve. The sheets draped over her hips only served to heighten his craving for her, to see what lay beneath in the light of day.
Perhaps feeling his initial shift beneath her, her eyes opened, looking up at him.
“Good morning,” she whispered. A small smile curled up her lips. Ian could not help but mirror it.
“Good morning, indeed,” he said, before leaning down to kiss her.
She melted into the kiss, pressing her bare chest against his, her nipples already beginning to grow stiff and sensitive. One of her legs was draped across his hip, and he lowered one hand to grab at her buttocks, pulling her closer into him. He could feel where she was already beginning to grow hot and wet at her core. She let out a low, languid moan into his mouth at the sudden touch.
“Well, wife,” he said, smiling against her mouth. “Shall we pick up where we left off last night?”
“I do not believe there is anything I should like more,” she agreed, pressing herself more entirely against him. “Although…”
He raised a brow. “Although?” he inquired.
She sat up. The sheet pooled around her waist, allowing him an excellent view of those perfect breasts. “Tonight is the night that Nancy and Zachary are coming to dinner,” she reminded him, swinging her legs off the side of the bed.
Ian groaned, though it was tempered with a chuckle. “I mean no offense, Cecilia, but the last thing I wish to discuss right now is your brother.” He reached out for her.
She dodged his hand playfully, swinging away as she stood. “We have already slept in so late!” she scolded him with a teasing lilt to her voice. “I need to go down to the kitchen and talk to Mrs. Fitzclarence to see if there is anything left that needs seeing to.”
Ian narrowed his eyes at her. “Right at this very moment? You are certainly excited about tonight,” he said.
“Oh, you cannot try and pretend you are not looking forward to it,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder. “He is as much your friend as she is mine, and we have not seen either one in as long.”
“Of course. Though you cannot pretend that some of your delight at this is not just because you love being proven right.”
“And what of it?”
He could not help but smile at the slight pique in her voice. “Nothing at all—only that, in truth, our goals were not so different as you might think,” he said. “After all, you were only trying to protect your friend. And I, whether you believe or no, was only attempting to do the same.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Cecilia inquired, sounding curious.
“Zachary was perhaps not entirely serious in his intentions towards Miss Banfield, at first,” Ian said. “At least, he would not admit that they were. Looking back now, it is obvious to anyone with eyes that he was smitten with her from the first moment he saw her, but he was…ill equipped by his previous life experiences to make sense of such emotions, at least in the moment.”
“You cannot mean to say that he had any…dishonorable intentions towards Nancy?” Cecilia asked. Her voice wavered. “He could not. My brother would not do that. He most in particular would not do such a thing to my friend. I refuse to believe it.”
“Peace, Cecilia,” he said, before picking up a paper from the desk. “That is what I mean to say. Just the other day—not long after your musicale—he wrote to tell me of his true feelings of passion for her. Not just passion, but other feelings, too. A desire to court her. To, perhaps, one day soon, even marry her.”
He handed Cecilia the letter. She read it over, her expression softening as she did so.
“So…” Her eyes flitted up to meet his, suddenly alight with a mischievous glow that had him hardening in his breeches. “You are saying I was right all along, after all?”
He pulled her into him gently, smiling down at her as she smiled up at him.
“If I say yes, will you allow me to take you back to bed and show you just how ardent my admiration is of your ability to always be correct?” he said. But as he leaned in to kiss her, she pulled away.
“Good attempt, my lord,” she laughed. “But surely you know by now that I cannot ever allow you to so easily get what you want.”
He drew near to her in one fluid movement, capturing her waist in his hands and pulling her in closer. He kissed her deeply, passionately. From her pleased gasp, it was clear she felt the same heat rushing through her that he felt rushing through him whenever they touched.
Ian pressed his forehead against hers, noting with pleasure how he had managed to quicken her breathing with just a few kisses. Her eyes were closed in bliss, and she leaned forward ever so slightly, as though seeking to continue the kiss.
“Are you absolutely certain there is nothing I could do to persuade you otherwise?” he said lowly, running his hands up and down her waist.
Cecilia took one more breath, then opened her eyes. Her gaze darted down to his lips, and she bit her own. She kissed him again, one more time, softly—and then pulled back.
“I am absolutely, positively certain,” she whispered, before dancing once more out of his reach. “You and I live together, after all. We have all the time in the world to…indulge in other activities. And, after all, isn’t the reward all the sweeter for having delayed it at the start?”
He tilted his head. “Ah,” he said, slowly nodding his head as he began to grasp her meaning. “You mean to tease me, is that it?”
“I do not know where you would get it in your head that I would do such a thing,” she replied as she continued to dress.
“Perhaps from the fact that I know you well, and I know your great love of playing games.” He let his voice drop lower as he continued, “But let me warn you, Cecilia—this is a dangerous game to play.”
She turned to him with a smile, putting her corset on over her shift. “Well. In that case, it is a good thing I never start a game I do not plan on winning,” she said airily. She raised a brow in challenge. “A fact which you also know well.”
He could not help but laugh at that. “That I do,” he murmured.
As she fumbled with the strings of her corset, he stood up. He thoroughly enjoyed the look on her face as she saw his body in the light of day, her eyes hungrily dragging across the strong muscles honed over hundreds of hours of athletic practice.
He crossed the room towards her slowly, allowing her time to continue enjoying his body. When he finally reached her, his hands covered hers over the corset, and he turned her around.
He leaned in close, so that his lips nearly brushed her ear.
“But you should also know, Cecilia,” he muttered, adeptly tying the laces of her corset and enjoying the way her breath caught at their mere proximity, “I am also a very persistent player.” He pressed a kiss just below her ear. “And,” he continued, his voice a deep rumble, “I am not one to be easily beaten at my own game.”
He pressed another kiss to her neck, lower this time, at a particularly sensitive place, and was rewarded with a moan. Finishing the laces, he pulled away.
“Keep that in mind,” he finished.
Cecilia whirled around to face him, her face red in a way that was all too familiar from their earliest encounters—except that now, he could even more clearly see the river of lust that pulsed just beneath her exasperation.
“You…” she began, before swallowing, clearly searching for the right words. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she took another deep breath and rearranged her face into a calmer and more composed expression. “I shall keep that in mind,” she said, before reaching for her dress to continue clothing herself.
Seeing that she was not so easily persuaded, Ian sighed, but set about getting dressed, unable to keep from continuously glancing her way. Somehow, the sight of her dressed, now that he knew exactly what she looked like beneath those layers of fabric, did nothing to quell his desire for her.
Ian could tell already that, if his impatience now was so great already, then today was setting up to be a very, very long day.