Chapter Forty #2
In the face of this ancient sprightliness, he could hardly claim exhaustion, especially when it was not yet ten. In truth, he’d left the company to avoid Damaris Myddleton. He’d done as Ash wanted and distracted her, but it had left him out of sorts.
It was tiresome to be so obviously Ash’s substitute, but Damaris could be clever and engaging. He knew her father had been something of a rogue, though a very successful one, and he glimpsed that in her at times. As he was something of a rogue himself, it appealed.
Most of the time, however, she tried to be the perfect lady—the perfect marchioness, in fact—and he wanted to shake her.
He knew Ash probably would offer her marriage, even though he clearly loved Geneva Smith.
Ash would see it as his duty, and he had become resolved to do his duty, suppressing all natural urges as necessary.
That was Ash’s grave, and he could lie in it, but Fitz hated to think of Miss Myddleton trapped there with him, innocent except for an ambition that had doubtless been trained into her.
Fitz had flirted with her and done his damnedest to distract her permanently, but though she played the game well, he knew her attention, like that of any predator, never truly wavered.
He’d eventually abandoned her to lovesick Ormsby and retired to the billiard room. He was better than the other players, however, which made it boring. He’d sat out for a while, chatting and drinking, then decided to give up on the night.
Now he was being dragged back.
“Dear Genova can foretell the future, you know,” Lady Thalia said. “She’s very good at it.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. He still wasn’t convinced that Miss Smith wasn’t an adventuress of some sort.
“Such people use tricks to make their predictions come true.”
“Oh, no, dear,” Lady Thalia said blithely. “I’m the one to do that!”
Lord save him from them all. But he let Lady Thalia tow him into the drawing room, where she dismissed Dr. Egan from the chair opposite her. Thank heavens the man seemed only amused. Perhaps, thought Fitz somewhat morosely, the librarian would like a peaceful early night.
Fitz settled down and sharpened his wits. Crazy though Lady Thalia was, she was a devil with the cards and had no patience with sloppy play.
Ash shifted slightly, his hand sliding up to her breast. “Pearl beyond price. My sweetest Genni…”
“That’s my father’s name for me.”
He looked up. “Do you mind?”
“No, of course not.” She told him then about her father, and Hester, the sweet and the sad. “It’s not her fault. It’s me.”
“No, love, it’s just a mismatch. It’s good you’ll be away from there, however, in a place of your own.”
“It will be heaven.” She pulled him close for a kiss. “Especially because I’ll be with you. We can be happy, even if things aren’t perfect. I’ll prove it to you.”
He nuzzled her. “There’s nothing to prove. It will be as perfect as I can make it. You’ll have everything you want. Jewels, silk, even clockworks, if that’s truly an interest.”
She laughed. Economy was going to take time. “I will want nothing but you.”
“And food once in a while?”
“And food,” she conceded, smiling.
“And perhaps a bit of wood in winter?”
“Yes, I suppose I’ll need that.”
“Just possibly a scrap of clothing?”
Laughing, she pushed him and they fell to tickling, tangling themselves in brandy-stained sheets.
When they came to rest again, he said, “I want to give you precious things, Genni. I want to give you the moon and the stars.”
“And I want you to spend your money on your land and your people, but I’ll try not to nag.”
“I can think of nothing better than being nagged by you.”
She shifted to stroke his chest. “Not even this?”
He smiled. “Yes, perhaps that.”
She kissed him. “Or perhaps this? And this…” She slid her hand down and found him, delighting in the softness, smiling when it began to change beneath her hand.
“Certainly that,” he said, lids lowered. “You win. You need never nag again. Speaking of nags…”
He shifted, encouraging her to straddle him.
Genova understood. Enjoying watching him, she rose and slowly guided him into her core, alert for signs that she might be doing something wrong. She couldn’t imagine how when it felt so beautifully right to her.
She was deeply sensitive, but it still felt right. She settled slowly, filling herself again. “I’d certainly rather do this than nag,” she said, her voice husky.
“I’ll remember that.” His lids were almost shut and she knew his attention was on one place only.
She leaned forward, testing the sensation deep inside, the shifting fullness, the pressure against sensitive places. Her hair fell forward and he cupped her breasts in the veil of it, thumbs working her nipples. She gasped and tightened around him, already hovering near ecstasy.
He slid his hands down to her hips and moved her up and down. She began the moist movement (herself, slowly, watching him. His eyes shut tight.
“Perhaps I need to nag to provide contrast,” she said, trailing her hair across his chest.
“Beloved, you could nag with a razor-sharp tongue and I wouldn’t care right now.”
She closed her own eyes and joined him in that hot, wet whirlpool of a place, loving doing it, controlling it, making it happen for him.
Later, sticky with sweat, she said, “I’m sure I can improve my skills. At nagging, I mean.”
He simply laughed, and she knew how he felt. Too exhausted to even think. She never wanted to move, never wanted her skin to be separated from his. If only this night could last forever.
But there would be other nights.
An infinity of magical nights. She could hardly believe it yet, but it was true.
Perhaps they dozed. The clock chimed and she idly counted.
“Eleven!” she exclaimed, sitting up. “We’ll have been missed.”