Page 88 of How to Start a Scandal

Her full breasts gave a bounce with every thrust, jiggling as he increased his speed, as the friction between their bodies built and built and built. He tensed in preparation for release, but he held himself in place for a breath to still his own climax as his fingers reclaimed the bud of her sex.

He wanted her clenching around him when he found his release. His thumb circled over her. He needed only two passes over the sensitive nub before she threw her head back with the force of her pleasure. Her cries echoed around him, beckoning him towards his own release.

He gripped her hips and plunged hard into her as her orgasm spasmed around his shaft. He came with a roar, his seed spilling into her with each jerk of his hips that brought their pelvises pressing flush together.

He waited above her until their panting breaths slowed and then collapsed at her side. She remained on her back with her eyes closed, as though savouring the languid tranquillity of the moment. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him as a lazy smile spread over her lips.

He propped himself up on his elbow. ‘I do hope this puts your worries about my attraction to you to rest.’

She rolled towards him. ‘If it didn’t, would you have to convince me further?’

He grinned. ‘I might have to.’

‘Then I fear I remain unconvinced.’ She put a hand to her brow in a mock demonstration of distress.

He leaned towards her and kissed her full, pink mouth. ‘You saucy minx.’ He pulled her towards him. ‘I love you, my beautiful Countess.’

Her coquettish expression turned shy. ‘Do you truly?’

He pulled back and studied her. ‘You know I do. I told you as much when I proposed to you the second time. Or does that officially count as the third time?’ He considered. ‘The proper second time,’ he concluded.

She put a finger to her chin in contemplation. ‘I believe it was the second time. Officially.’

He caressed her soft cheek. ‘I shall always show you how I’ve always held you in such high esteem, how I value how different you are from every other lady of the ton, how my heart responds so viscerally when you’re near. I thought you were lost to me six years ago when I left to fight for England. And now that you’re my wife, I want you to know what you mean to me. Every moment of our lives.’

She drew a circle on the bedsheets with her fingertip and gave the action her whole attention. ‘You’ve always been so handsome, so confident. It’s a wonder you would ever love a woman like—’

He put a finger to her lips to still the words from falling free. ‘A woman whose affection I am not sure if I’ll ever be worthy of, but will still readily seek.’ He grinned. ‘I suppose there’s still a bit of rogue in me after all.’

She peered at something on his shoulder and her brows furrowed. ‘Were you injured?’

He glanced at the scar from a healed bullet graze. ‘It was nothing of note.’

‘I could have lost you.’ She spoke softly, as though musing more to herself than speaking to him. ‘You could have gone to war and never returned.’

‘You could have danced with an honourable man who stole your heart and I’d never have had the opportunity to wed you,’ Seth replied.

‘Is it fate that kept us for one another?’ Violet asked.

‘If it is, I don’t intend to question it.’ He kissed her. ‘I will, however, take full advantage of it.’

And he did. Throughout the day and well into the night. She was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d felt he never deserved. She was his and he would do everything in his power to ensure she always knew she was loved and well cared for.

For the first time in his life, this task felt like one he could perform with ease, for with a union as perfect as theirs, nothing could possibly go wrong.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Seth fell asleep some time in the night with Violet curled in his arms, both of them spent to the point of sheer exhaustion.

Ghosts, however, were not so easily placated. No sooner had his eyes closed and darkness pulled at him than the distant thunder of a cannon firing echoed through his mind.

Men in red uniforms ran forward around him, their bodies jerking with the slamming of bullets.

Someone shoved him—hard. The ground rose up, crashing into his side with such force it knocked the wind from his lungs.

Brent cast him a resolute stare before the cannonball crashed into him...

‘You’re in your bed at Dalton Place,’ a soft voice said in Seth’s ear. ‘With your wife, Violet.’