Chapter 8
Eight
A week later
Dinah had just finished a letter to Jo when Neel entered the sitting room. The gray at his temples gleaming against his raven hair; tufts stuck out as if he’d been tussling with someone. The dent in his chin deepened with his smile.
“You look like the cat who ate the canary,” she said, smiling back. “What have you been doing?”
“I exercised the new stallion, and when I finished, the stable lad and his chums were building a snow fort.” He sat in the wingback chair next to her, stretching out his long legs and snow-covered boots. “It’s been years since I’ve done that.”
“Lean toward me,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him. He obliged, and she wiped the dust of snow from his hair and smoothed down the unruly strands. “There. Much better.”
As she pulled back her hand, he grabbed it, and their gazes locked. Little wings in her belly took flight as she saw the desire in his dark eyes. Heat rushed to her core, and she spontaneously pressed her mouth to his.
It’s the middle of the day. He’ll think he’s married a hoyden.
He stood, took both her hands, and pulled her to him. Before she could open her mouth, he’d scooped her into his arms and headed out the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked, both arms around his neck, her lips against his neck.
“To make a baby,” he said hoarsely, stopping before his bedchamber and kicking the door open. He laid her on the bed, then sat next to her, pulling off his boots, then his coat, then his waistcoat.
Dinah’s eyes strayed to the pronounced bulge in his trousers when he stood to remove them. She reached out, her fingers stroking his fall. He groaned and encouraged her, so she sat up and unbuttoned the flap, letting his member free.
“If you touch me again, you may forfeit your own pleasure,” he said in a rasp. “And I have such plans for you.”
She chuckled, gripping the band of his pants and yanking them down. He kicked free of them, pushed her back, and lay down beside her. One hand slid under her skirts, stroking the sensitive inner thigh, and she closed her eyes as the blood pounded through her veins. “Such magic hands,” she murmured.
Dinah decided fair play was in order. She grasped his rod, warm and hard and soft all at the same time, stroking it up and down, marveling at how in tune they were.
He kissed her, and she opened her mouth for him, accepting his tongue, dueling with it, raising her hips when he found that magic spot.
“You’re a vixen,” he said hoarsely against her chest. His mouth moved to one breast, then the other, sucking, nipping, teasing until she thought the pleasure would consume her.
“I need you… inside me,” she said, panting. “Please, Neel.”
He pushed her skirt up and positioned himself between her legs, sliding into her with one mighty thrust. She rose to meet him, and they found their rhythm, like they always did.
His hand went between them, and his thumb caressed her nub.
The heat, the tension built inside her, a storm ready to break.
When she cried out his name, the tremors rocking her body, he groaned in that now-familiar way and collapsed on top of her.
Dinah wrapped her arms around his torso, wishing she never had to let go.
What if she told him now that she loved him?
Would he think it was only the afterglow of sex?
Or would he know she was sincere? She decided to close her eyes and enjoy the moment.
“Sometimes, we are so good together, I think I must have made a pact with the devil,” Neel murmured into her ear. “You must think I’m a randy rake.”
Dinah giggled, her limbs so weak she couldn’t have moved them if the room was on fire. “No, a lusty lout.”
“A lecherous lickpenny,” he said, smiling against her neck.
“A salacious scoundrel.”
“And you are a voracious vixen.”
She gasped. “Not fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” he disagreed, kissing her eyelids, then her nose, then her chin.
“Fine. Hellacious harridan.”
He snorted. “I forgot how good you are at this. Hmm. Famished florence.”
“Rapacious romp.”
He kissed her again. But this time, it was different. Softer, gentler, still full of passion but more than that. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she found him staring at her.
“Gluttonous goddess,” he said, then nipped her earlobe.
“I like that one,” she said, running her nails down his back, then stretching her arms above her head. “I shall yield.”
“Will you put that in writing? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you say that.” With one more kiss, he rolled off her and pulled her close, his stomach against her back.
“Never. I was caught in a moment of weakness.” You are my weakness, she thought.
They fell asleep, waking to a darkened room lit only by the hearth.
Somehow, he’d pulled the counterpane over them without disturbing her.
She wiggled her bottom against him and found he was hard again.
Dinah smiled. Yes, she would keep her secret until Christmastide.
This “making babies” activity was much too enjoyable.
If Neel knew they’d already been successful, he might stop.
Men reacted oddly to pregnant women, thinking females were suddenly more fragile because they were with child.
Dinah slurped the white soup with gusto. She was ravenous. Looking up, she caught Neel staring at her with amusement.
“What?” she asked.
“What?”
“Why are you gaping at me?”
“I beg your pardon, but I do not gape. Rarely.” He dipped his spoon into the bowl and took a silent sip before giving her smug smile. “I wasn’t able to tell you the news before you distracted me.”
Dinah giggled. “You’re welcome.”
Neel snorted. “You’re incorrigible. And lovely.” The next spoonful was slurped loudly.
“And the news?” she prompted.
“Ah, yes. Frederick is stopping by for a few days on his way to the Continent. He’s taking a ship from Dover next week and will grace us with his presence this weekend.” Neel stopped, his spoon midway to his mouth. “If you don’t mind.”
She shook her head. “He is your good friend from university. As such, he will always be welcome.” Lord Burstone wasn’t her favorite person, but she would not act the shrew. If Cornelius saw good in the man, then there was some. Somewhere.
“Good,” he said, and leaned back as the footman served the next course.
The widgeon was roasted to perfection. A crispy skin—Dinah’s favorite part of the bird—glistened in the candlelight, making her mouth water. There were roasted potatoes with leeks, and carrots glazed in honey.
Dinah couldn’t get the food in her mouth fast enough. She finished her plate and looked up to find her husband once again gawking at her. She blinked, then blushed. “I seem to be famished this evening.”
“Yes, indeed. It must be the invigorating country air,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’ve heard it makes a body very hungry,” she agreed, her hand going to her belly without thought. Dinah changed the subject. “This will be our first Boxing Day at Bluebelle. I’ve made a list of items to distribute. Could you take a look at it this week and see if there is anything you might add?”
A pleased light shone in his eyes. “Of course. You’ve been speaking with some of the villagers. I’ve heard favorable mumblings about you.”
“Such as?”
“Kind, caring, beautiful,” he began, waving his fork. “A woman with a good appetite.”
Dinah threw a piece of turnip at him and ducked when he lobbed a chunk of potato in return. The butler cleared his throat as he poured the wine, and the battle of the vegetables ended with Lord and Lady Cornelius holding back laughter and grinning at one another.
It warmed her insides to know the tenants and locals appreciated her efforts.
They would be raising their children here, and Dinah planned on keeping them out of London as much as possible.
Her country upbringing had been idyllic, and she wanted the same for her own family. She knew Neel would want the same.
After dinner, they had tea in the parlor.
It was the next room she would decorate.
Cornelius was gazing out the window at the dark starless night.
Dinah had fetched her quizzing glass from her bedchamber earlier and studied the room through them.
She decided the crown molding would stay, the wallpaper would not.
The furniture, except for the worn footstools, would go, the drapes might stay, depending on the colors she chose.
The room faced the north, so it would need lighter shades than the present deep-blue and golds. And a new carpet, of course. She continued her visual tour of the space until Neel came into her view. Her breath caught. He was staring at her with… What was that expression?
For the love of Cupid, was it love? That kind of love? She’d seen the same expression in her own eyes, staring at the mirror, wondering if their marriage would ever become a love match.
She quickly looked away, not knowing how to react, and set the quizzing glass down as if it had burned her fingers. Her heart pounded. When had Neel started loving her? Did he know how she felt?
No, ninny, she thought, you’d have to tell him first.
She poured herself more tea and glanced over her shoulder. “Would you like some more?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said, resuming his seat across from her. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oooh, you know I love surprises.”
He grinned. “While we had an early snow, the temperatures haven’t been cold enough to sustain ice on the small pond to the west. When I mentioned my disappoint to our steward, explaining how you’ve always enjoyed ice skating—”
“Oh yes! Do we have skates here?” she asked. Dinah did love to glide across the ice, twirling, backwards, fast, slow. It was her favorite exercise in the winter, and she had been seen regularly whenever the Serpentine froze over.
“I purchased some in the village. Mr. Franton has offered to make a shallow pond that will freeze quickly. So hopefully, we will be skating before Christmastide.” His smile was quite smug as she gushed her thanks.
“I cannot wait. That was so thoughtful of him. And you, of course, for always thinking of me.”
“More than you know,” he said, standing to kiss the top of her head. “Shall I read some Keats to you?”
“I’m in the mood for Byron if you don’t mind,” she said. He had such a deep tenor, his voice lending nicely to any poetry, but especially Byron. And she was suddenly in a romantic mood.
Neel read “She Walks in Beauty” while Dinah’s mind wandered. Jo had written to her, and the letter’s tone had been melancholy.
My dearest Di, I find I am lonely. Not lonely for chatter, not lonely for the company of a man, but lonely for love. True love that stirs the heart, ensures happiness regardless of what comes down the road, good or bad.
Perhaps I shall get a puppy. Do you think it would help?
As Neel’s soothing voice wrapped around her, Dinah realized how much she wanted her husband’s love. It was time to stop the games, quit waiting for him to speak, and tell him her news. She would find the right time soon.