Page 66 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

26

The presenceof numerous servants in the entry hall interrupted Ravenna’s hope of whisking her husband upstairs to continue their unfinished interlude. Simon had received several messages during the evening from Heath.

Aunt Glynnis had also sent another of her reminders that Ravenna was giving her first tea tomorrow afternoon. Glynnis added that she had taken it upon herself to invite a half-dozen or so of her own acquaintances. She had instructed the duke’s staff to bring out the finest china.

“I completely forgot about the tea,” Ravenna said over her shoulder to Simon as they made their way upstairs to their bedchamber. “According to my aunt we are serving crumpets, iced cakes with crystallized rose leaves, and Souchong. Thank goodness for Isolde. It looks as if she has laid out my entire wardrobe from my tea gown and gloves to -- Simon, are you listening to me?”

“Yes. You’re serving tea tomorrow.”

“And?”

“Better you than me.” He took off his boots and neckcloth. “Now I can breathe. I wouldn’t worry about tomorrow. I survived your tea parties. A glass before bed?”

They lingered on a low curved couch over Madeira and discussed the play -- or rather the people who had crowded their private box after the performance to offer Simon and Ravenna belated congratulations on their marriage. Ravenna scribbled names in a notebook as fast as Simon could rattle them off.

“No one struck you as familiar?” he inquired, lifting her feet from his lap to remove her stockings. She smiled at him in rue. His hand idly sketched a circle around her garter.

“Only you.” She placed her pen inside her notebook. “Everyone saw you kiss me at the theater. Including Rhys. I suppose I’m no better, ravishing you in the carriage.”

“The truth is that I couldn’t have given a toss whether we attended a play or an opera tonight,” he said. “When I was not looking at you, I was intercepting the looks you drew.”

“Because I am your wife, Simon. No one in England would have noticed me otherwise.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Everyone notices a Boscastle. You must cease this false virtue.”

“It astonishes me you can utter that last word with a straight face.”

“Blame it on our voluptuous passions. I made sure your brother was looking away. By the way, I very much approve of how unladylike you were on the way home. You may take advantage of me whenever the urge comes upon you.”

His hand disappeared under her skirts. His fingertips stroked the tender flesh between her thighs. She was instantly stricken by a need to move, and not away from his touch. “You have the intense look in your eyes that used to intimidate me,” she said softly.

“I never meant to intimidate you.”

“I understand that now,” she said. “Your effect on me is all the more potent because it’s unintentional.”

“Hmph. Am I affecting you now?”

“Quite so,” she said, her breath hitching. “I fall apart when you tempt me without trying.”

“Should I stop?” he said with a half-smile.

“I shall never speak to you again if you do,” she whispered, her notebook sliding to the floor. “Twice in one night is unthinkable.”

“Can I lure you to the bedchamber?”

“Shall we race?”

“On your marks.”

Simon let her win. They swiftly undressed each other in their unlit sanctuary. Her petticoats slid off and buried his vest in a pink-lace froth. She heard him sneeze and realized he’d sent a jar of her face powder flying. He knocked over a bottle of orange water on the dressing table. She caught it before it spilled, her corset half unlaced.

“What a mess,” he muttered. “Heavy hands, haste, heavy -- well, you know.”

She ran her fingers over his prominent erection. He closed his eyes, briefly, then grasped her by her shoulders. “Wait. Dearest, please give me time to speak. I have something to confess. I can’t let another night pass without lightening my conscience.”

“Now?” she asked in dismay, hands dropping to her sides.

“It’s waited too long.”