Eugenia ran her fingers down his taut abdomen.
“Last night it was all I could do not to reach across the dining table and haul you onto my lap,” Ward said.
“Not in front of the children.”
“I kept my hands to myself,” Ward said, his voice breaking in a groan. “Please don’t stop.”
She obeyed.
Two hours later, Ward pulled himself upright and stretched. Every part of him was content.
Eugenia was prone on the bed, her hair spread over her naked breasts. “Time to get up.” He bent over and kissed her cheek.
She moaned something.
“We have a swim lesson this morning,” he said. “Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
At this, her eyes popped open and she sat up so abruptly that they collided. “I’m doing nothing of the sort.”
Ward grinned at the sound of her hoarse voice. Mercifully, the house’s walls were thick, so Eugenia had been able to express herself freely.
Scream all she wanted, in other words.
“Lizzie won’t enter the water without you. I can’t believe I didn’t think of the danger when I took them fishing.”
She groaned and rolled on her side. He nudged her over, sat down, brushed the hair from her face, and gave her a coaxing kiss.
“Go away,” Eugenia said, pushing at him. “I can’t lie about in bed all day. You must leave before my maid appears.”
“Your maid won’t come upstairs until my man informs her the coast is clear.”
“Oh.” He watched as Eugenia digested the significance of this; namely that the household was fully aware of their circumstances. “I have no interest in learning to swim.”
If he handled this badly, Eugenia might refuse to go near the water for the rest of her life. “Your late husband would not wish you to fear the water,” Ward said, as tactfully as possible.
Eugenia sighed. “One thing I’ve come to understand in the last few weeks is that Andrew’s wishes cannot continue to guide my own.”
“I didn’t know him,” Ward said, wrapping an arm around her, “but I suspect he wouldn’t want you to mourn him forever.”
“No one would say I’m in mourning, considering your presence in my bed!”
Ward pushed her back, pinning her to the bed, their bodies sliding into perfect alignment. “I am jealous of Andrew. Would you give me seven years of mourning?” he growled, nipping her ear.
“For you, a month or two,” she murmured, laughter running through her voice. “Six at the outmost.”
Why were they talking about mourning? Ward felt a shock, like cold water. He couldn’t marry Eugenia, and it wasn’t right to pretend it was a possibility.
She was undeniably helpful with the children—notwithstanding last night’s cursing interlude—but the woman he married had to vanquish the qualms society had about his birth. His household—his wife—had to be irreproachable.
“Well,” he said briskly, rolling off the bed and standing up, “it’s time for that swimming lesson.”
“I truly don’t—”
“Yes, you do.” He pulled on his dressing gown. Screw delicacy; it was time to be blunt. “Andrew gave his life to save yours.”
Eugenia flinched.
“You can’t drown after he sacrificed himself to keep your head above water.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Where does fairness come into it? I’d like Lizzie to be able to save herself, and she won’t enter the water without you. The idea that dead fish were floating under the surface almost ruined our fishing excursion before it began.”
Eugenia rose and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her delicious curves against him. “Couldn’t we have our lesson tomorrow morning?”
Ward cleared his throat. “Now that is unfair.”
She laughed. “I had no idea it was so exhilarating to be improper.”
“I promise to give you more chances to be improper,” he said, meaning it.
“I don’t mean only in the bedchamber. It was very helpful for Lizzie to express her rage, no matter how eccentric my approach.”
Ward hesitated, unsure of how to phrase his response. “I am in full approval of your embrace of impropriety, but not my sister’s.”
Eugenia kissed his chin. “I can feel your ‘full approval.’” She wiggled against him.
“But please don’t teach Lizzie the conduct that you are embracing.”
Her brows drew together, and she pulled away from him. “You imagine that I would teach her to—to do this?”
“The cursing,” he clarified. “If Eugenia utters one of those words in a countess’s drawing room, it could ruin her.”