The Haunting of a Duke(58)

Rhys felt her withdraw and knew that it was more than physical. It piqued his curiosity, but he chose not to press her. If there was one thing that he was learning about his new wife, it was that she was all but incapable of hiding her feelings. He would learn in due time what had prompted her to distance herself from him. In the interim, they had reputations to protect and a murderer to find.

"We should go,” he said, “as it is, we'll be late enough to make a grand entrance without having to talk to anyone, but not so late that our entrance will be missed entirely."

"You have the art of it perfected, I see,” she said.

"I learned it from Ellersleigh, the master. He will be joining us at the theater, by the way. Assuming he hasn't drunk himself into a stupor somewhere, that is."

"Or become distracted by an available female?"

Rhys didn't point it out, but for Michael, there were few females who weren't available. “Just so,” he said, and ushered her outside and into the waiting carriage. He handed her up and then joined her inside the carriage.

"I've accepted an invitation to the Somerfield Ball, which is tomorrow night. It is a prestigious event and our attendance should please Lady Eleanor, if pleasing her is possible. By the end of the week I hope to be headed back to Briarwood Hall."

Emme couldn't see his expression in the dark interior of the cottage. “Why so anxious? Not that I mind, of course, I'd much rather be at Briarwood Hall. I had thought you wished to stay in London for some time."

Rhys paused before answering. His reasons were twofold. The first of which was that he wanted to be back at home where he could get to know his wife and enjoy her company with fewer prying eyes, the second had to do with finding the culprit. There had been no further accidents since coming to London, not that he wanted more accidents to occur. Still, it felt wrong somehow. It was as if they'd been diverted from their true course.

"I've been shortsighted. Reading Elise's journal is difficult but it must be done. If you are correct, and one of Elise's lovers murdered her and Melisande, then our focus should be on finding the fiend, and not placating my aunt's unreasonable desire for social standing."

Emme was relieved. “I am not much for society, Rhys. I'd be perfectly content to remain in the country all of the time."

"I can't guarantee that we will never come to London, but the trips will be as infrequent as possible."

"Would you come without me?” she asked.

"If needs must,” he said, “but I would prefer to have you with me."

The question burned on the tip of her tongue. Unable to stop herself, she said, “We've never discussed it, but I'm aware that maintaining a mistress is common practice—"

"It is common practice, but it is not one I intend to indulge. I desire no other woman. I have, in fact, never desired a woman with the intensity with which I crave you. I fear that you have become an obsession."

The words thrilled her, but her fear would not be so easily dismissed. “And when you've grown used to me? When I'm heavy with child?"

The very idea of her heavy with his child spoke to a part of him that was so primal he couldn't name it. Rather than answer her, he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was not a gentle kiss, or even a passionate one. It was a claiming. He took her lips with the intensity that burned within him and branded her. In that kiss, he showed her, absolutely, that she was his.

When the kiss broke, he leaned his forehead against hers, and breathlessly, he said, “I cannot promise that I will always be an easy man to live with, or even to tolerate, but I can promise you that I have made a vow to you before God, and I will keep that vow. What happens when you tire of me, when my kisses no longer stir your blood, will you be as faithful?"

Could he really wonder, as she did? Could this glorious man believe that she would ever want anyone else? “I have made my vows, as well, and they will be kept. And I cannot imagine that there will ever come a time when your kisses do not stir my blood. In fact, it takes little more than a glance from you and I am behaving shamelessly."

She felt the smile that curved his lips against her cheek. She turned her head slightly, pressing her lips against his. She traced the contours of his masculine lips with her tongue, nipping at his slightly fuller bottom lip with her teeth, until he groaned and pulled her roughly against him. The square neckline of her gown proved little impediment, and her breasts were suddenly bared to the cool air of the carriage and then to the heat of his callused palms. Her head tipped back, her neck arching with pleasure as he cupped the tender globes, stroking her pebbled nipples until she was gasping. He followed the column of her neck with his tongue, until his lips reached the impudent peaks. He laved and stroked with his tongue, before suckling the furled bud greedily into his mouth. She moaned and the sound was filled with such pleasure and such longing, that it made his hands tremble as he stroked her back and thighs.