Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood 2)

Grace removed her cape and placed it on the seat next to her. "You do know that I left in such a hurry this is the only dress I possess."

"Then we should do our utmost to ensure it doesn't get creased." His gaze drifted languidly over her, and she could feel his desire warm her like the heat from a flame. "Luckily, we'll have to spend an awful lot of time alone in this carriage. A shortage of clothing should not cause too much of a problem."

An image of his naked body, all hard and glorious, flashed into her mind, and her desire for him spiralled.

Grace moistened her lips. "What on earth will we do to pass the time?"

Elliot tapped his chest and then glanced left and right. "I thought I'd brought some playing cards."

"I've always loved playing games," she said sliding across the carriage and falling into his lap. "It requires a certain skill, a level of endurance."

"From what I recall, you are rather talented when it comes to amusing activities."

Grace smiled. "I'm sure there's still a lot more you can teach me."

Epilogue

Moorscroft Hall, Yorkshire

Grace mumbled some endearment as she pressed her naked body against his. He loved watching her sleep. The feel of her warm breath breezing against his skin soothed his soul.

Elliot had kept the fire burning in the grate as they lay on the rug in the master bedchamber. Even though he knew it must be noon, in their private domain, the closed shutters and the thick drapes they'd moved from the drawing room gave the impression it was closer to midnight.

He angled his book of sonnets in an attempt to catch the light from the flames. But he was adept at reading in the darkness. As he turned the page, Grace shifted again, pushing her tempting body closer as her palm came to rest over his heart.

Damn.

Desire sparked.

He could not get enough of his wife — of her charming countenance, of her witty conversation, of her luscious body.

Desire shot through him again when the pads of her fingers traced a circle in the dusting of hair on his chest.

The minx.

"I know you're not asleep," he said but then regretted his words as he had missed a perfect opportunity to tease her.

Grace gave a pleasurable sigh as she rubbed against him in her feigned slumber.

Elliot placed his book on the floor behind him and rolled onto his side so as to give Grace Markham his undivided attention.

When his fingers trailed a slow, seductive line down her back, her eyelids fluttered. When those same fingers settled on a deliciously round buttock, her eyes flew open.

"So, you are awake," he said with a grin as he let her feel the evidence of his arousal.

"I am now," she whispered, arching her back as she stretched her limbs. She glanced around the room. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours."

"That long? It feels like minutes."

"Are you hungry?"

She writhed against him. "Only for you."

Taking that as an invitation, he rolled on top of her and settled between her soft thighs. When it came to his wife, he was permanently aroused. "You once told me that home ceased being a place for you," he said as she pulled him closer, urging him to enter her welcoming body.

"I did," she replied, her breath a little ragged and she wrapped her legs around him and rocked to mimic the motion of his first expected thrust.