The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,111

the verge of his own release, and in that moment, her husband’s eyes met hers.

“Winter?” she whispered, seeing the emotion on his face.

Silvery gray eyes seized hers, the unguarded adoration in them staggering. His hands reached up to cup her jaw as he leaned down to press the sweetest, most tender kiss to her lips.

“I love you, Isobel,” he said. “And I want everything with you. Children, a future, whatever will make you happy.”

And then with a few short thrusts, Winter was there, leaping over the edge into the flames with her, incinerating them in tandem. To Isobel’s stunned surprise, her body released again, as her husband emptied himself and his love inside of her.

He gave her everything he had to give.

Chapter Twenty-Six

If you don’t feel like you are about to expire from organ failure, you’re not doing it right.

– Lady Darcy

Not long after their reunion, Winter ensconced his beautiful marchioness at Rothingham Gable, a short ride from his father’s ducal country estate in Chelmsford. Neither of them had any inclination to return to London for the rest of the season, so they remained in the country.

After several weeks, a gloating Matteo, along with the rest of his London staff, delightedly followed their master’s swift departure from town. Even Ludlow wore a ridiculous smile on his face. If Winter had known getting on the cranky butler’s good side meant bringing Lady Roth home, he might have done it years ago. Certainly, if he’d known he could be this happy, he would have done it from the start.

Winter felt his sated body stir as he watched his sultry wife saunter across the room to the breakfast tray that had been delivered earlier. Breakfast being a stretch since it was already late afternoon. It had been a long, and undeniably pleasurable, night…one that he intended to repeat as often as possible.

Even in a silk robe, Isobel exuded sensuality. The golden coils of her hair were piled into a loose top knot, and she wore the look of a thoroughly satisfied woman.

He didn’t miss her slight wince as she sat in a chair near the window.

“Sore, love?” he asked.

The smile she gave him radiant, her cheeks going pink. “A bit.”

“I can rub it better.”

“If I come near you, we both know what’s going to happen,” she said wryly. “And my body needs food, Lord Insatiable.”

He threw a hand to his chest. “It’s not my fault my wife is a ruthless temptress.”

“Ruthless, am I?” she shot back. “If I recall, I wasn’t the one who was ruthless.”

Her blush intensified as she no doubt recalled being restrained while he’d pleasured her until they were both mad with lust. The coupling that had followed had been frantic, swift, and hard. Other times, they’d made love slowly, but for some reason, the passionate ferocity of the previous night stuck like thickened honey in his mind.

His sweet, innocent, demure wife was not as sheltered as she seemed.

And that pleased him immensely.

He rose, dragging on a robe, and met her at the small breakfast table near the window. It looked out upon Rothingham Gable’s lush gardens that even boasted an ornamental pond. A few white swans dotted its glassy surface, the late afternoon sun shimmering on the water.

Isobel had fallen in love with it the moment they’d arrived, and Winter felt a stroke of guilt that he’d been remiss in not welcoming her here before. Rothingham Gable had been his sanctuary, and despite the vulgar rumors that surrounded the estate and a few parties that his friends enjoyed, it was his home.

His beautiful marchioness poured him a cup of tea and refreshed her own, her movements both economical and elegant. Every move she made was full of grace…poetry in motion. He could watch her for hours. She sipped her tea and then bit into flaky bit of pastry. He stared, the sight of those lips and the glimpse of her even, white teeth mesmerizing. God, even the innocent act of her eating aroused him.

“You’re staring, Lord Roth,” she said over the croissant.

“Can you blame me? I’ve been ensorcelled by my nymph of a wife.” He accepted the proffered cup and sipped his tea. “So, about Lady Darcy.”

She glanced at him over the gold-edged rim of her cup. “What about her?”

“You’ve mentioned that you learned quite a bit from her.”

She smiled. “I have.”

“And I approve.” He smirked. “Heartily as it were.”

Isobel set her cup down, an odd expression of discomfort crossing her face. She rolled her lips between her teeth