Chapter Seventeen #2
He threw back his shoulders as if her delicate exploration had caused him pain, then demonstrated openly how he welcomed her touch by thrusting against her hand.
Magnificent in his arousal, he arched his spine; in response she rose onto her knees to lay her face against his chest. “I have never craved a woman’s touch as I do yours, wife,” he said in a raw voice.
“Nor have I ever wished to touch a man in this way,” she whispered back. “But I tell you truly, if you do not proceed to make love to me this very moment, I—”
He gently grasped the soft hills of her bottom and contrived to force her back down beneath him, a position she eagerly assumed. Her sex throbbed unbearably. Her thighs opened in invitation to draw him inside her.
His hooded gaze traveled over her with a burning pleasure that acknowledged her offering. His muscular body hardened, hovering above hers. The sweet mystery of all that was male. Pure sexual power. Yet in submission she recognized strength.
And when at last she felt his rod nudge at the petals of her woman’s place, when he thrust upward to penetrate her, she thought how very wonderful it was to be a wife and lady of some experience who knew that even decorum had a proper time and place.
As did desire.
The newlyweds would have slept the entire morning had Adrian’s valet, Bones, not brought a hearty breakfast to their door, along with an array of gifts and cards from those in the bon ton who wished to congratulate them on their marriage and be recognized in return.
Adrian answered the door, grumbling at the intrusion until Emma gently chided him for his show of ingratitude.
She had taken breakfast in bed only three times previously that she could recall. Most certainly she was not, as her great wolf of a husband, so disengaged from all propriety that she wished this forbidden activity to become a habit.
“I cannot say I feel completely comfortable breakfasting in bed without clothing,” she admitted at his pleased grin.
He fed her a slice of imported Spanish orange from the tray on the bedside table. “You’re a shocking young lady. That must be why I fell in love with you.”
“Well, do not admit that to your father when you introduce me,” she said, her blue eyes dancing.
“I do not look forward to that reunion.”
“So I have gathered,” she said lightly. “But it is inevitable and your mind will know no rest until you have done with it.”
His gaze wandered over her in a heated promise. “The only thing inevitable”—he slid his arms around her bare hips and drew her beneath him onto the tangle of bedclothes—“is—”
Another knock came at the door, Bones once again, but this time speaking in such an urgent voice that even Adrian did not hesitate to heed. “It is your brother, my lord. I took the liberty of admitting him to the anteroom. He assures me that he will not leave until you have met with him.”
“My brother?” Adrian asked in disbelief. “Are you quite certain of this, Bones?”
Emma sat up indignantly. “He must be mistaken. Only my brothers would have the effrontery to interrupt our honeymoon breakfast. Which of the rogues is it, and what is his excuse this time?”
Bones cleared his throat. “It is Lord Cedric, madam. His lordship’s brother.”
Adrian looked up at the door, smiling incredulously. “Cedric is here?”
“Yes, my lord,” Bones answered, “and he is quite adamant about seeing you.”
Emma dressed with care and drank two cups of unsweetened tea.
She was determined to give Adrian and his younger brother the privacy of a reunion.
She had to agree that Cedric’s timing was rather off, but then again there may have been some emergency at Scarfield to prompt his inopportune visit.
Although Adrian asserted that his father’s illness was a ploy, perhaps there had been more truth to it than he allowed.
It seemed unlikely that Lord Cedric had interrupted his brother’s honeymoon morning out of malice.
Indeed, as Adrian had not been in communication with the duke, one could only attribute Cedric’s appearance to coincidence.
Emma had certainly not dared to insist he invite his father to their wedding, considering the ill feelings Adrian bore him.
Only twenty minutes later she was summoned by her husband to the anteroom to be introduced to his brother.
Lord Cedric was a well-built man of average height, who seemed understandably embarrassed at having come at such an awkward time.
In fact, he gave Emma the distinct impression how relieved he was that his older brother had married a lady of quality.
She dared not speculate on the sort of bride he had expected.
As the sister of the most notorious aristocratic family in London, she appreciated his relief.
Indeed, their meeting went pleasantly enough.
Lord Cedric stressed the importance of Adrian’s return to Scarfield.
On this point Emma could not disagree, even if she was content to leave the decision on when this would take place to Adrian himself.
All in all, her first introduction to his family went well. It was only as Cedric was making his leave, congratulating husband and wife once again on their marriage, that his parting comment to his brother hit an unpleasant note.
“Serena will be surprised to learn of your marriage, Adrian. She asks about you often.”
Even then Emma might have merely taken note of the female name for future use. Its owner could have been an old family housekeeper, a local spinster, or even Adrian’s aunt.
But then Adrian asked, “Serena? Is she still there? She has not married?”
His inflection caught her ear, a combination of fondness, curiosity, and family history.
“No,” Cedric said, his gloves in hand. “She isn’t married yet. By the way, be careful when you travel home. The roads that surround the village have been haunted by robbers in recent years.”
“At Scarfield?” Adrian asked. “I don’t remember a single crime in the past.”
Cedric grasped his hand. “Times have changed. Perhaps your return will help, Adrian. I do believe we need a man of your experience.”