Blake straightened up, turned and staggered the few steps to the bed, then collapsed onto it, Emily sprawled on top of him. ‘Thank heavens for Elizabethan furniture construction. I think this thing must be solid oak.’
‘There’s a bed like this at Greystoke,’ she said. ‘Shall we have it in our bedchamber?’
‘I think we had better. Modern furniture is just not strong enough for the sort of things I have in mind.’ Blake opened his eyes and looked up at her. ‘You look deliciously wanton lying there, my love.’
‘Say that again.’
‘You look –‘ Emily shook her head and his mouth twisted into a wicked, tender smile. ‘My love. My love. My love.’
Emily sighed happily. ‘This is perfect. Could we… Can we make love again later?’
‘We can make love again now.’ Blake put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, long lashes feathering his cheeks. She caught the glint that betrayed that he was still watching her. ‘I am entirely at your disposal. But you, my wife, must do all the work.’
Emily sat up, ran her hands into her hair and shook it out. She stretched sinuously, wantonly. ‘I intend to drive you wild, my lord.’
‘Is that a promise?’ Blake growled.
‘Oh yes. Every day until you beg me to stop.’ She slid forward, her nipples brushing the dark hairs on his chest and found his mouth and opened hers over it and sank into his heat and strength and love.
Every day, my love. Every day.