Page 161 of A Story of Love

He smiled, relieved to hear the teasing note in her voice. “Too bad all she got to see was The Most Perfect Husband in Britain, instead.”

Lorelei laughed.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” he scolded as he reached the landing and strode toward the room he knew belonged to the master and mistress of the house, but which they had kindly vacated for tonight. “Open the door, love,” he said once he’d stopped.

She fumbled for the handle and once they were inside, he hooked his foot around the door and pushed it shut before laying her gently down on the big four poster bed.

She caught his wrist and brought his palm to her face, the look in her eyes one he’d never seen before: almost worshipful. “Thank you for avenging me, Fast.”

He scoffed but kissed her palm before saying. “You should have let me shoot him. Or run him through with a sword.”

“But then you’d have had to run from England.”

“At the very least you should have allowed me to beat him a little.”

“I think nearly choking him to death sufficed.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, the noise doubtful. And then he licked the spot he’d just kissed.

She giggled.

Fast paused his licking, his eyebrows almost to his hairline. “Did you just—”

“If you tell anyone I giggled, I shall write the most odious story about you and sell it to the scandal sheets.”

He laughed, and then slid her index finger into his mouth.

Her mouth opened but only a soft, “urgh” came out as he sucked.

“Oh, Fast…that is so…”

He removed her finger with a damp sucking pop. “So?” he prodded, moving to her middle finger.

“So very, very naughty.” She groaned as he suggestively stroked her finger with his tongue, letting her know what he was going to be doing to some other part of her body very soon.

It was his turn to groan—unhappily—when somebody knocked on the door to the adjoining sitting room.

He reluctantly released her finger. “I’ll go and deal with that. While I do, I want you to strip.”

Fast strode from the room while she was still struggling for a response. He shut the door behind him before letting the servants in.

“I’ll take that,” he said to the housekeeper, who had a ewer of hot water. “You can set the rest on the table,” he told the maid.

Once they’d deposited the cold supper, he bade them both a firm good night and shut and locked the door behind them before turning and striding toward the bedchamber. He’d seen the mulish look in his beautiful wife’s eyes. She wouldn’t have obeyed him about taking off her clothes.

That was fine; he’d enjoy stripping them off her himself.

He flung open the door and then stopped in midstride, gaping like a yokel at the sight that met his eyes.

It was his new wife lying utterly and completely naked on the bed. She’d assumed a modest pose—one leg crossed over the other to cover her sex and one arm draped across her breasts.

As he stared a flush crept up her body. She was…entrancing.

Her throat flexed as she swallowed. “Er, Fast?”

“Hmmm?” he asked, setting down the water so clumsily it almost fell off the table.

“You’re staring.”