A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,89
She stopped and stared, but he pulled her on. “I thought you were great friends with the Amberlies?”
“When I was a boy. Not … after.”
“After what?”
Either he didn’t hear the question or decided to ignore it.
They entered the foyer and he released her, turning to look at the rough-timbered entry hall like a man in a trance. “Not a thing has changed,” he murmured, turning in a circle, either unaware or uncaring that several servants were staring.
He strode down the long gallery that went off to the left.
Honoria smiled at the waiting footman and let him take her cloak before hurrying after her husband, tugging off her gloves while she gazed at the pictures on the wall—all of them portraits. They were nowhere near as grand as those at Whitcomb, but there were dozens of very good pieces.
“Honoria!” Simon’s head popped around a corner. “Why are you slow-poking? Hurry up.” His head disappeared and she laughed. He was like a boy—a young, carefree boy.
The corner he’d disappeared behind led to another long hall and she recollected that he’d said the house was built like an ‘E.’
Double doors made of stained glass illuminated the hall with fantastical colors and shapes. Simon was nowhere to be seen.
“Simon?” she called, her voice echoing eerily over the hard plaster and warped and cupped ancient wood floors.
“In here.” His voice floated out of a room down near the end, to the inside of the “E.”
The door was open and she paused upon entering, entranced.
There were floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides and late afternoon sunshine streamed through the beveled glass, refracting the light to make the room feel like it blazed with a hundred candles.
“Oh, Simon, it’s lovely.”
He grinned as he came toward her. “A perfect studio, isn’t it?”
She nodded, turning in a circle, enchanted. “It is.”
“And look,” he said, leading her over to the south-facing bank of windows. “There are the stables. We shall be able to wave to one another while we sweat and slave over our respective labors.”
In an act of unprecedented joy, he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, and around, and around. Until she was dizzy from the motions as well as joy.
“I want to take you right now—right here,” he whispered, his scandalous words and passionate urgency making her heart pound. “I will claim you in every room in our house. Would you like that, my beautiful lover?”
Honey shivered at his words and the erotic images they evoked.
“Would you?” he growled, lowering his mouth over her neck and making her squeal.
“Yes! Yes, I would,” she laughed.
When he stopped, he was panting, his eyes so full of warmth she could only stare. All this happiness for them? For their life? For her?
“We will be happy here, won’t we, Honey?” he asked, the question strangely somber, his gaze intense.
Honey nodded, swallowing convulsively but unable to banish the lump in her throat.
In that moment, she knew that he would come to love her—she could see it in the hope fairly beaming out of his remarkable blue eyes
She already loved him, and she would see her love returned. She knew it.
He lowered his mouth hungrily, kissing her the way he did when they were on the verge of ecstasy.
The sound of a clearing throat made them both jump, and Simon stepped in front of her, as if to protect her.
She was not surprised to see the Duke of Plimpton standing in the open doorway.
***
It was all Simon could do not to slam the door in his brother’s face. But he could tell by Wyndham’s cool, resolute stare that he would stay there until Simon listened to him.
“Hello Simon, Honoria.” The duke strode forward. “How was your journey?”
Honoria dropped a curtsey. “It was pleasant, Your Grace.”
Simon smiled at the ice in his wife’s voice. Good, she would not be intimidated by his brother.
“My wife would like to go to her room and freshen up after the long journey, Wyndham. I will meet you in the library.”
His brother hesitated, irritation flaring briefly at being dismissed, but he nodded and left the room without another word.
Simon turned to Honey. “I wanted to show you your chambers, myself,” he said, forcing an air of lightness into his voice he was far from feeling. He took her hand and led her back to the family wing.
He leaned in close as he opened the door to her suite of rooms. “I plan to spend a lot of time with you in here,” he murmured, enjoying her shiver.