A Wicked Kind of Husband - Mia Vincy Page 0,105

you want. Inventive problem-solver, remember?”

Without warning, he quickened his fingers in her neediest part, and she pressed into the wall and pushed back against him and tried to stay upright as he stroked her with such relentless ferocity that she gasped and pounded at the wall with her fists. He pulled back her hips, plunged deep inside her, filled her completely, and did not let her go, and she was nothing, nothing but sensation and love and him, woman and man and pleasure and hope. When bliss rippled over her, melting her limbs, those strong arms held her up and did not let her fall. He held her up and thrust into her, demanding and powerful, dynamic and rude, and she held on, she held on, and wished she could hold on forever and never let him go.

Once he had carried Cassandra to bed, Joshua climbed in beside her, because it would be ludicrous to go when he would only leave half of himself here. She snuggled up against him, her hand spread over his chest as if to hold him down, and he surrendered to the contentment.

Then she laughed warm puffs of air and traced little swirls on his skin.

“What?” he asked.

“Lady B.’s face. Oh, I’ve never been so angry in my life.”

“How did you know about their games in the bedroom?”

“I’m not as naive as I was.”

“You never breathed a word.”

“One does not speak of such things,” she said primly.

“Clearly one does,” he retorted. “Never tell me you reached that conclusion alone.”

Caught out, she squirmed, and he savored the movement of her softness.

“I confess that Arabella and I discussed it. One time. But it’s all right,” she hastened to add. “We are married women.”

“I swear, you make up these rules as you go along.”

Her fingertips traced careless circles around his nipples. “It’s over for Lord and Lady Bolderwood, I think.”

“They overestimated themselves.”

“And for Lucy too. Her Season is over.”

“On the upside, if we can track down that Scotsman, we can pack her off to the Highlands. Shame it wasn’t an American, though. Or a Brazilian. Brazil might be almost far enough.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Where did I go so wrong?”

He pressed his lips to her hair, breathed her in. “You did what you could. She’s nineteen and old enough to make her own choices. And for some reason, she chose to ruin herself.”

“I suppose tomorrow we might as well head straight back to Sunne Park.”

Just like that, this was their last night. He lay too still and listened to her breathe. Her fingers had stopped teasing and she was too still too.

A few more nights would not hurt. His life was in Birmingham, hers at her estate, but they could still have a few more nights.

“You’re here now,” he said, sounding stupid and strained. “No need to go rushing back. If you can still show your face here.”

“I’ll keep my eyes closed, so they don’t see me.”

Oh sweet mercy, the sheer delight of her!

“I heard of a physician who specializes in weaning people off drugs,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you’d like to meet him.”

She lifted herself up and stared at him, but the dim light masked her expression.

“To discuss your mother,” he clarified.

Her fingertips pressed into his chest and she brushed her lips over his cheek. Lingered. “Thank you. Yes.” She dropped back against him. “You will go back to Birmingham soon?”

“Soon. That’s where my life is.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, and his heart kicked up too hard. She would feel that. She would know. “We could all travel together,” he suggested. “I could break my journey at Sunne Park. Meet these famous pigs you’re always blathering on about.”

“That would be nice.”

His heart settled. The silence and the darkness mingled with her presence and bathed him in contentment. She shifted off him and turned over, and he curled himself around her.

The house had almost settled for the night; no sounds but the uneven footsteps of Isaac heading up to his room. Cassandra was soft and her breathing was even, and it was only because he thought she slept that he spoke.

“Are you with child?” he whispered into the night.

She stirred. He ought not have asked. “It’s too soon to tell.”

“When will you know? I want to know.”

“Hush. We must be patient.”

He caught himself tensing his muscles and willed them to relax. “It seems like an inefficient system to me.”

“And yet babies keep on getting born.”

“That’s human ingenuity, that is.”

“Oh, is that

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