Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,226

familiar. He was never quite at home in formal attire, she realized, always tugging or shifting and quite obviously wishing he was in his more comfortable work clothes.

How strange to have a husband with an actual vocation. Eloise had never thought to marry a man like that. Not that Phillip was in trade, but still, his work in the greenhouse was certainly something more than what most of the idle young men of her acquaintance had to fill their lives.

She liked it, she realized. She liked that he had a purpose and a calling, liked that his mind was sharp and engaged in intellectual inquiry rather than horses and gambling.

She liked him.

It was a relief, that. What a bind she would have been in if she didn’t.

“Would you like a few more minutes?” he asked.

She shook her head. She was ready.

A rush of air blew past his lips. Eloise thought she might have heard the words “Thank God,” and then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her, and whatever else she’d been thinking, it was gone.

Phillip supposed that he should have devoted a bit more of his mental energy to his wedding, but the truth was, he couldn’t keep his mind on the events of the day, not when the events of the night loomed tantalizingly close. Every time he looked at Eloise, every time he even sniffed her scent, which seemed to be everywhere, standing out among all the delicate perfumes of the Bridgerton women, he felt a telltale tightening in his body, a shiver of anticipation as he recalled what it felt like to have her in his arms.

Soon, he told himself, forcing his body to relax, then thanking God that he was actually successful in the endeavor. Soon.

And then soon became now, and they were alone, and he couldn’t quite believe how lovely she was with her long, chestnut hair cascading in soft waves down her back. He had never seen it down, he realized, never imagined the length of it when it had been tucked away in a tidy little bun at the nape of her neck.

“I always wondered why women kept their hair up,” he murmured, once he’d finished with his seventh kiss.

“It’s expected, of course,” Eloise said, looking puzzled at the comment.

“That’s not why,” he said. He touched her hair, ran his fingers through it, then lifted it to his face and breathed in the scent. “It’s for the protection of other men.”

Her eyes flew to his with surprise and confusion. “Surely you mean the protection from.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’d have to kill anyone who saw you thus.”

“Phillip.” Her tone was meant to be scolding, he was quite sure of that, but she was blushing and looking rather absurdly pleased by his statement.

“No one who saw this could resist you,” he said, winding a length of her silky hair around his fingers. “I’m quite sure of it.”

“Many men have found me quite resistible,” she said, offering him a self-deprecating smile as she looked up at him. “Quite a lot, actually.”

“They’re fools,” he said simply. “And besides, it only proves my point, does it not? This”—he held one long thick lock up between their faces, then tickled it against his lips, breathing in its heady scent—“has been hidden away in a bun for years.”

“Since I was sixteen,” she said.

He tugged her toward him, gently but inexorably. “I’m glad. You’d never have been mine if you’d tugged out your hairpins. Someone else would have snatched you up years ago.”

“It’s just hair,” she whispered, her voice a little trembly.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “You must be, because on anyone else, I don’t think it would be nearly so intoxicating. It must be you,” he whispered, letting the strands drop from his fingers. “Only you.”

He cradled her face in his hands, tilting it slightly to the side so that he might more easily kiss her. He knew what her lips tasted like, had kissed them, in fact, just minutes earlier. But even with that, he was startled by her sweetness, by the warmth of her breath and her mouth, and the way his body turned to fire from one simple kiss.

Except that it would never be just a simple kiss. Not with her.

His fingers found the fastenings of her gown, small fabric-covered buttons marching down her back. “Turn around,” he ordered, breaking the kiss. He wasn’t so experienced at seduction that he could slip them from their loops without the advantage of sight.

Besides, he