The Haunting of a Duke(52)

He could hear her smile. Rhys chuckled. “My wanton wife."

She was a wanton. It was shocking for her, when she'd struggled to maintain propriety throughout her entire life, to give in with such reckless abandon. But she was a wife not a mistress, and the rules governing her behavior as such were very different. What men desired in their wives and in the mothers of their children was very different.

Emme raised herself on her elbow and looked over her shoulder at him, “Should I not be wanton? Would you prefer a wife who was more proper?"

Sensing her concern, he pulled her closer and kissed the sweet curve between her neck and shoulder. “What could be more proper than a wife who welcomes her husband's touch? I would hate for you to ever look on our marriage bed as a duty. Be as wanton as you like. If you allow me to sleep for a bit, when I awake I'll introduce you to more wanton wickedness."

Emme blushed, “What could be any more wicked than what we've already done?"

Laughing, Rhys replied, “Give me half an hour to recover and I'll show you."

When Emme snuggled against him, in spite of what he had said, his body stirred. The weight of her breasts resting against his arm, and the generous curve of her bottom pressed against him proved to be a heady combination.

"Perhaps, I don't need to recover after all."

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Chapter Nine

Emme braced herself as the carriage hit another deep rut in the road. Her body ached from being bounced about on the hard seats. While it was a well-sprung and luxurious vehicle, no amount of padding on the seats could make up for the harsh road conditions that recent weather had brought about. But they had passed Hampstead Heath and their journey was nearly at an end, for which she could only be thankful.

They had traveled for nearly four days, stopping at coaching inns over night. Emme knew that she had been a poor traveling companion. Her fear at facing her mother and stepfather, given the scandal that she had created, hung over her like a pall. She and her mother had never really seen eye-to-eye. Emme had taken too much after her father's side of the family for that. Then, of course, there was her stepfather, Mr. Stidham. He'd always been stern and reproving. The more pronounced her abilities had become over the years, the more he'd turned to religion and false piety. He'd quoted Bible verses at Larissa and her and had warned them about wickedness and the sin of witchcraft. All the while he'd been gambling and frittering her father's fortune away on his secret vices. She put her stepfather and his hypocrisy from her mind. There was nothing to be done about the past.

With a sigh, Emme shifted on the seat, attempting to reposition herself and ease the aching numbness that had settled into her backside. It was a futile effort. After so many hours on the road, and so many nights without sleep, there was no comfort to be had. In defeat, she settled back against the seat.

Rhys watched Emme through shuttered lashes. She hadn't complained at all during the journey, though he knew it must have been very difficult for her. It had been a long and difficult trip, fraught with all manner of disasters, from the mundane to the extraordinary, if his wife was to be believed. They'd stayed at various coaching inns along the road to London and almost every night Emme had been beset by her “visions,” for lack of a better word. She'd had next to no sleep, and he'd fared little better. Of course, the days had been just as difficult. It had been a lame horse only hours out of York on their first day. They had to put the poor beast down and it had nearly broken Emme's heart.

Rhys hadn't said anything about the circumstances surrounding the broken wheel that had left the animal lame but it had troubled him greatly. He'd decided he didn't want to worry her, but he had the sneaking suspicion that she knew it was more than just an accident. Sabotage was an ugly word and he hesitated to bandy it about with little proof. Because of that incident and those that had occurred at Briarwood prior to their departure, he had been hyper-vigilant while they traveled.

He knew it must have seemed that he had been preoccupied and lost in thought for much of the journey. It wasn't untrue, but it had been necessary to insure her safety. He couldn't abide the thought that something might happen to her, and given the events that had occurred, he could not doubt that someone meant her harm. His hyper-vigilance and the numerous delays had created a strain for everyone.

Emme's thoughts mirrored Rhys’ as she considered the disastrous nature of their short sojourn to town. They had spent the first evening at the Ye Olde Bell in Barnby Moor.

The food had been fair and room reasonably clean, but the clientele had left something to be desired. Rhys hadn't come to her bed that night, but had guarded the door and told her to sleep in her traveling gown. When she'd considered the leers of the men in the taproom, she had not questioned his request.