Page 37 of An Earl, His Valet, & Their Wife

Katherine weakly waggled her fingers. “Can’t talk,” she mumbled. “Conceiving.”

Gerry laughed as he got up. “Good lass. Now, neither of ye move an inch. I’ll warm some water by the fire and tend ye both.”

Michael nodded, more fatigued than he’d ever been in his life. Being fucked by Gerry was always spectacular. But that had been an entirely different realm of bliss. If he’d not already believed in heaven, that certainly would have converted him.

Stifling a yawn, he hesitantly put one hand on his wife’s hip. “May I…er do you have any objections to cuddling?”

“I insist on cuddling,” Katherine replied, taking his hand and dragging it around to rest on her belly.

He sighed in utter contentment, his thoughts drifting until a warm, wet cloth eased over his skin, expertly cleaning him, then Katherine. For a moment Michael froze in panic when Gerry left them and walked to the antechamber, but soon his valet returned carrying a soft, light blanket. After climbing up onto the bed—which was indeed big enough for three—Gerry spread the blanket over them all, one brawny arm reaching across to secure them together.

It might have been minutes or hours later, but Katherine’s belly rumbled and she gasped. “Excuse me.”

Michael grinned. “You’re not the only one requiring feeding. Shall we send for an early supper?”

“Nae,” said Gerry, as he got up and hastily dressed. “I’ll go tae the kitchens and arrange it. Stay here and rest. Think good conceiving thoughts.”

After Gerry departed the chamber, Katherine turned over so she faced him, her expression wary. “My lord…”

“What’s on your mind?” he asked quickly, uncertainty chilling him. “Please tell me. We can’t hide anything from each other. Not after that.”

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“Afraid of what? Pregnancy? Let me assure you, Katherine, that you shall have the very best physician in England attend you when the time comes.”

“No…I’m afraid that today was too perfect and it won’t happen again,” said Katherine, as she bit her lip, her eyes wide and vulnerable. “Now that I’ve experienced three in bed, of being pleasured by you both, that special connection when Gerard was inside you and you were inside me and we were together as one…I’m not sure I could be truly happy without it.”

Relief swamped Michael, and he tucked a stray blond curl behind Katherine’s ear. “You don’t have to go without it. Today was the beginning of our new life. There’ll be plenty to navigate, but I know in my soul that if we each commit to a future together, it shall be so. Yes, this is unconventional, but we are certainly not the only house of three in London. Gerry’s friend, the playwright Lennox Townsend…you know of him?”

She sat up. “Yes! I went to several of his plays at Drury Lane, but after he set up house with Lord Jonathan and Viola, Mother forbade my attendance at their theater. I always wondered how it all worked. Now I know. It’s marvelous.”

“It is,” said Michael. “And the best part—”

Abruptly the bedchamber door burst open, and Gerry marched in, a dark scowl on his face.

“Gerard?” said Katherine anxiously.

“Ye both must dress and come downstairs,” said the valet, meeting Michael’s gaze. “Nero and Horatia have stopped by.”

And just like that, all Michael’s joy and contentment vanished. As Gerry would say, bloody, bloody hell.

Michael turned to Katherine. “My current heir and his wife. I cannot apologize enough; they are the vilest people imaginable, but if we don’t go downstairs…”

“I understand,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “Let me dash to my chamber, and I’ll have Molly dress me in something appropriate. I wish I had one of Madame Odette’s gowns for armor, but I’ll make do.”

As his wife stumbled away, her movements stiff and awkward after their vigorous bedding, Michael cursed. “I can’t believe those two just showed up on the doorstep when the ball is so close. What on earth do they want?”

Gerry’s lips pressed together. “I wish I knew, my lord.”

Bloody, bloody hell.

CHAPTER 8

On countless occasions in the past five years, Gerard had wanted to hurl Nero Ellis into a pit of starving wolves. None more so than today.

His hands clenched into fists so hard he actually had to pause on the stairs to take a deep breath. In a perfect world, he would be in the earl’s bedchamber lavishing his lovers with affection, feeding them delicious tidbits, and planning their future as a trio. For they would be a trio. Tasting Katie, disciplining her, and beginning her training had neither sated his need nor caused him to lose interest—quite the opposite, in fact. Now he was even more eager to be inside her, to feel her pulse and spasm around two cocks as he and Michael filled her together. But more than that, he’d loved holding her. Somehow, Katie had eased past his defenses, and he wished to cosset and comfort her each day. Protect and serve his countess as he did his earl.

Instead, he had to manage the coldest, laziest, most entitled heir presumptive in the whole fucking realm while Michael fussed with his cravat and Katie dressed. Nero and Horatia had arrived just as he’d been requesting food from the kitchens. On another occasion, he would have directed Kenney to inform the interlopers that the newlyweds were indisposed and continued his day. But the Ellises hadn’t come alone…they’d brought a vicar.