Chapter Twenty-Two #2
interests, some partnership he had with a rich guy named Apollo up in Lunwyn, and the string of printing presses he and his dad
owned across Hawkvale and down into Fleuridia.
In fact, I’d glazed over so badly, I’d only come unglazed
when I heard his rich, attractive chuckle before I felt his firm, delicious
lips press to mine.
When he’d pulled away, he’d said, “We’ll leave it at the
fact I have many interests, so there will be a number of soirees you’ll need to
organize to keep our investors happy, and a number of opportunities to wear
wildly becoming gowns as men try to tempt me into investing in their schemes.”
“You know, of the last thousand words you’ve recently said,
I only heard ‘soirees you’ll need to organize’ and ‘wildly becoming gowns,’”
I’d replied.
Which hadn’t made him chuckle.
It had made him laugh.
Which had made me happy.
Short story long, when I’d read about this exhibit in the
paper, and learned the existence of this museum, and told him we had to go,
he’d rearranged his schedule in order to escort us here.
In truth, he gave into my merest whim, as evidenced by the
fact we’d walked by a shop after our dinner two nights ago, I’d seen a hat pin
in the window that I’d said in a throwaway manner, “That’s pretty,” and it was
delivered to our house the next morning.
So, yes.
Totally spoiled.
Something he’d been doing since I lost it in his bedroom
after Le Cirque Magique.
Or maybe this was just Loren. From what Aunt Mary said
outside, and every indication I’d had since I’d met them both, the Copeland men
tended to indulge the women in their lives.
But I couldn’t get past thinking that he was trying to help
me make up for lost time, secluded in Fleuridia, away
from Maxie and even Aunt Mary.
All this on my mind, I blurted, “I’m going to find my way.”
His brows slid together. “Pardon?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, outside earning the
reputation of the best hostess in all the Northlands, entirely so your
investors will understand how clever you are for marrying such a prize as me,”
I joked.
He grinned.
I moved closer to him and went on quietly, “But I’ll find my
way, Loren. You don’t have to look after me. You don’t have to worry about me.
About any of us.”
As I was speaking, he’d slid his arm around me, but he
pulled me closer when he replied, “It’s good Mary is here. I fear your mother
being away so long, she, as well as you, will need a guiding hand in society.”
He sent a small smile down to me. “I’m uncertain Lady Longdon murders a party,
but I’ve no doubt she can set you on the path to figure out how you intend to
do it.”
My insides froze.
Murders a party.
I’d told him I murdered a party.
And I did.
I mean, my friends were probably lamenting the demise of my
yearly Halloween bash as much as the demise they thought became of me.
But Loren thought I’d said that to him in the stables all
those weeks ago in order to play the game my father had forced me to play.
When, for once, I’d been telling him the truth.
“Satrine?” he called.
I focused on him and repeated, “I’ll find my way.”
He was studying me closely, his arm warm around my waist,
his gaze affectionate at the same time troubled, because he no doubt thought
I’d had a bad moment, remembering my plight.
I pressed my gloved hands into his chest. “I promise.”
“I believe you, sweeting,” he said gently.
“Though, feel free to continue spoiling me,” I teased,
hoping it didn’t sound forced.
“So you admit it.”
I shrugged.
And there came that rich, attractive, chuckle before he did
what he was quickly becoming expert in doing: angled his head to avoid my
enormous hat so he could touch his lips to mine.
When he lifted away, he didn’t go far.
So I went for it. “And if you ever want to talk about them…”
I let that hang.
I found it concerning he only nodded before he straightened
completely from me.
But I let it go.
Because I was going to need him to let things go, a lot of
them, practically every real thing about me.
The least I could do was return the favor on occasion.
“Does this mean you’re going to give up on forcing me to
teach you how to drive yourself around?” he asked, and I was getting to know
him, so I was more than sensing he wasn’t entirely joking.
“It isn’t that hard,” I returned.
“You’re rubbish at it,” he stated bluntly.
I was not wrong. He hadn’t been joking.
And he was not wrong.
Who knew it was harder than heck driving a carriage through
busy streets filled with other carriages, carts, horses, and people crossing
(the concept of jaywalking clearly had not been introduced in this world, and
although, on the busier streets, there were constables directing crossways,
there was nary a stop sign to be found), but also errant dogs, cats and
sometimes pigs and chickens?
Horses turned left and right and went faster and slower,
depending on what you told them to do. And they weren’t real big on running
into anything, so they took their own evasive maneuvers.
But a lot of the time, it got hairy.
“I’ll get the hang of it.”
“Perhaps, if you stop gazing around like you’re touring
instead of paying attention to where you’re going,” he suggested.
He was not wrong about that either.
“There are a number of distractions,” I pointed out.
“Indeed. This is why women don’t drive. Too easily
distracted. They see a hat they like in a window, they’d drive into the window
next to it because they can’t stop looking at it. And then they’d argue it’s
the hat’s fault.”
“Oh. My. Gods,” I whispered irately. “Did you just
say that?”
He smiled down at me, hugely, his warm brown eyes dancing,
and his arm still around me tightened as his head dipped.
“You are very easy to tease, my Satrine,”
he whispered.
“You are very lucky you’re so gorgeous, my Loren,” I
retorted.
And there came an even bigger smile.
“I would like to see a lake like that.”
We both turned toward Maxine’s voice to see she’d come
close.
“And mountains,” she went on.
Not missing a beat, Loren replied, “Then we shall make plans
to show you as many lakes and mountains as can be found, Maxie.”
Maxine beamed.
Mm-hmm.
Totally.
Loren Copeland spoiled the women in his life.
Outlandishly.
But I wasn’t going to breathe another word about it.
Ever.
Because it was him.
And as were all things Loren, it was beautiful.
Loren
He felt her lips as Satrine
trailed them up his chest and into his neck before she rested her weight
against him.
Loren barely accepted her warmth when he rolled so he was on
her.
He was not fully recovered from the ministrations of her
mouth, but although he very much liked her soft curves resting on him, he
preferred resting his body on those curves.
“How’s your wound?” she whispered into his ear.
He grinned and lifted his head.
“Better,” he told her.
“Mm…” she hummed.
Still grinning, he touched his mouth to hers, and not moving
away, he said, “Soon, my darling.”
Her expression shifted and he felt her hand gentle over the
bandage at his wound. A bandage she demanded to change morning and prior to
bed, so his clothes nor the sheets would aggravate the stitches.
Therefore, he assured, “Very soon, sweeting. There’s hardly
any pain anymore.”
That was not precisely the truth. There was pain, which was
why he had not taken their bedplay forward to
consummation.
But it was getting better, and further, he didn’t
want her worrying about it.
He got his wish. Her gaze cleared and focused on his.
“Okay, honey,” she replied.
“Are you sated for tonight?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Are you sure?” he teased. “It usually takes three or more
before you seem replete, and tonight I only gave you two.”
Her eyes rolled to his headboard, and she mumbled. “Ugh.
Smug.”
Loren laughed.
Her eyes came back to him, and she watched as if enthralled.
It was safe to say his betrothed found his humor of far more
interest even than a gilded statue of a Korwahkian
god.
Loren gazed at her, her golden hair all over his pillow, her
expression now content and serene, her lips bruised from his kisses and gorging
on his cock.
So enamored was he in looking at her, he started when her
hand came to his face, her thumb sweeping his cheek.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
“That you’re beautiful,” he told her.
Her expression melted to one of such exquisiteness, if she
hadn’t already undone him, it would be his undoing.
“You make it worth it,” she whispered.
“What?”
“All of it. All that happened, all that’s to come. All I
lost and never will have again. You make it worth it, and it may seem crazy,
but you do it in a way I know you always will.”
Fucking hell.
He groaned before he took her mouth.
They embraced for some time before he felt her satiety shift
to somnolence. Only then did he move to extinguish the lamps, then tuck her
close to him, his body curved into the back of hers under the covers.
He endeavored to time it well, when her sleepiness sapped
her craftiness, before he asked after something he’d seen that afternoon when
they’d arrived home from the museum.
“What does Carling touching the side of his nose, and you
returning that gesture, mean?”
Her relaxed body grew tight in his arms.
He grinned into her hair.
She was appalling at subterfuge.
Carling was worse.
Both, however, were to Loren’s favor.
“Nothing,” she lied.
“Whatever it is you two are cooking up, my dearest heart,
take note that I’d prefer to know beforehand, should I need to wade in and
rescue you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied again.
“It is my father’s birthday in but weeks, and I have not
missed how you’ve grown fond of him.” He gave her a squeeze. “He is a man who
has much, so he doesn’t need more, except he does very much enjoy the company
of people he cares about.”
“Right,” she whispered.
“So you don’t have to murder a party for him. However, if
you plan one as a surprise, I can assist with that.”
Her voice sounded curiously strangled when she responded,
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
Loren pulled her even closer, burying his face in her hair,
“I daresay, he already has his present for this year, three of them, and they
all have blonde hair.”
“Stop being wonderful,” she warned.
He shifted to kiss her shoulder.
And when he settled back, he said, “I’ll try.”
She was silent long moments, and he thought she was asleep.
He was proved wrong when she murmured drowsily into the
dark, “Liar.”
He was indeed.
One last time before sleep claimed him, Loren smiled into
her hair.