had robbed her of the capacity of thought. Speech was beyond her.
“A fine way to spend each morning,” he said at last. “Much better than The Times, darling. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.”
And then he rolled from the bed to stalk across the chamber, naked as the day he had been born. Utterly shameless. Not a hint of embarrassment. Though, as well formed as he was, she could hardly fault him for his confidence.
Still unable to move, Jo watched him go, admiring the tight curves of his bottom and the long lines of his legs. Every part of him was lovely—that broad back, the dimple above his buttocks, the muscled calves and thighs.
She sighed. If he saw fit to begin every day thus, she was never going to eat breakfast again.
Chapter Thirteen
Ways to be Wicked
1. Kiss a man until you are breathless.
2. Arrange for an assignation. Perhaps with Lord Q? your husband? Strike that, bijou. Definitely with your husband.
3. Get caught in the rain with a gentleman. (This will necessitate the removal of wet garments. Choose said gentleman wisely.)
4. Sneak into a gentleman’s bedchamber in the midst of the night.
5. Go to a gentleman’s private apartments.
6. Spend a night in a gentleman’s bed.
7. Make love in the outdoors.
8. Ask
One whole week.
Decker gritted his teeth and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.
He had been married to Jo for an entire seven wonderful, frustrating, tiring days, and he still had not had his fill of her. They had crossed off two more items on her wicked list. He had made love to her every morning before they breakfasted together. Sometimes, he returned in the afternoon to take her again, the endless wait until night too much to bear.
Half past one, and he was beginning to fear this would prove one of those days. Reports from the piano factory lay untouched before him, along with the ledgers of his publishing company. To say nothing of the rough proofs of his erotic serials, corrected for press.
Macfie rapped on his office door.
“Enter,” he called, sounding as irritated as he felt.
He had every right to be peeved, he told himself. He had been happy with his life as a bachelor, and now it had been upended by his wife. His wife for whom his obsession grew with each tick of the bloody minute hand on his pocket watch.
“The carriage is awaiting ye as ye asked,” Macfie announced. “Along with the cream ice from Claremont’s as ye requested fer Mrs. Decker.”
“Very good, Macfie.” He rose from his desk. No use settling in to work when he could not concentrate on anything but her. “Is the cream ice well packed in ice? It is a rather warm day today, and I do not fancy taking a bucket of milk soup home to Mrs. Decker.”
Macfie inclined his head. “Extra ice, sir. I know how much ye hate tae disappoint yer lady.”
That gave him pause. “How so, Macfie?”
“On Monday, ye asked me tae arrange for five crates of books tae be delivered tae yer house containing all Mrs. Decker’s favorite authors and poets,” Macfie began. “On Tuesday, ye asked for the cream ice from Claremont’s, being that it is Mrs. Decker’s new favorite, and ye were right put out when it turned tae soup on yer way home on account of the ice being puir. On Wednesday, ye asked me tae call upon Mercier and Sons with yer request for the diamond bangle ye wanted made in her honor. On Thursday—”
“Macfie?” he interrupted, more vexed now than he had been before.
“Yes, sir?” asked his stalwart aide-de-camp.
“Shut up,” he said succinctly, for he had heard quite enough. He hardly needed an accounting of all the manners in which he had proven himself hopelessly enamored of his new wife.
Was it her cunny?
Yes, surely that was it.
She possessed a magical cunny. It had cast a spell upon him.
“Mrs. Decker is a lovely woman,” Macfie ventured. “I cannae blame ye, sir.”
Having his most-trusted man describe Jo as lovely yet again did nothing to improve Decker’s mood.
He glared at the man. “Macfie, you do recall the conversation we had concerning your eyebrows, do you not?”
Macfie’s expression went grim. “Ye promised ye wouldnae threaten them again.”
“Let that be fair warning to you, Macfie. I cannot be trusted to uphold my promises. Not when they concern my wife and your eyebrows.” Decker was silent for a moment as he realized how that had sounded. Then, he cleared his throat. “Not that I