Page 114 of Lyon of Least Resistance

Or rather, had done.

Many times.

Georgiana extended her hand toward Margaret. “Come along, Meg. I believe we’re no longer welcome in this chamber.”

“What do you mean?” Margaret said. “Cordelia said I could always come here.”

“I think James and Cordelia would like to take their breakfast in privacy.”

“But breakfast’s downstairs,” Margaret said. “James only brought tea.”

“I’m sure they’ll join us later,” Georgiana said. “I don’t want to be late. Leonard—I mean, Mr. Marlow—said he’d call this morning.”

“Ought I ready myself for an interview request from Mr. Marlow?” James said.

“I told you, brother, he’s not asked me,” Georgiana huffed. “I—” She broke off. “Cordelia, are you all right? You’ve gone very pale.”

James glanced at his wife, who leaned forward, her hand over her mouth. Then she righted herself.

“I’m quite well,” she said.

“You weren’t well yesterday,” Margaret said.

Georgiana took Cordelia’s hand. “Perhaps we should send for Dr. Carlton.”

Cordelia paused, then she met James’s gaze and his heart surged at the expression of love in her silver eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “Perhaps we ought to. Georgie darling, why don’t you and Margaret go down to breakfast, and James and I will join you later?”

“But…” Margaret protested.

“Now, little ferret,” Georgiana said. She kissed Cordelia on the cheek. “I’ll ask Mrs. Case to send for Dr. Carlton immediately.”

The sisters exited the chamber, then James took his wife’s hand and sat on the bed.

“You ought to have told me you’ve been feeling unwell, my love.”

“I know.” She gave a coy smile. “Will you punish me for violating my vow of obedience?”

“Not if you obey my every command from this moment.”

He kissed her, then let out a low growl as she reached for his. One touch, even through his breeches, and he’d be at risk of spending.

“Do you wish to torture me before breakfast?” he said. “Most outrageous.”

“Then I must present you with a gift, to atone,” she replied.

He tugged at the laces of her neckline, and his breath hitched as her gown opened to reveal the swell of her breasts. Would he ever tire of looking at them, of kissing that soft flesh and nipping at those delicious little buds?

“May I collect my gift before breakfast?” he said.

She shook her head. “My husband must be patient and wait for his gift to be delivered.”

“After breakfast?” He brushed his lips against the tops of her breasts.

“A little longer than that.”

He kissed her skin, then flicked his tongue out, running the tip along her soft flesh until he reached the beautiful, dark pink centers.