Rival Desires (Properly Spanked Legacy 1)

After that, she sang some other parts from a German opera she loved, one she’d hoped to perform in London before the theater burned down. They hadn’t talked yet about her future career, and some part of him wished to avoid the discussion for fear their newfound connection might come to a fiery end, just like the opera company’s theater.

But it was cowardly not to address it, now that she burst into song whenever he asked her to grace him with a performance. He’d told his friends the day of his wedding that he would not allow her to appear onstage again, not if he could help it. But now…now he saw her mother’s point. His wife had a God-given gift.

When she came to the end of a rather forlorn song about a lost love, he touched the rope still wrapped about her wrists. “How long will you stay bound?”

“Until you release me,” she said, smiling. “There’s probably no risk to it. I can’t very well escape now, as the carriage is traveling at a fair clip.” She cut him a look. “Not that I would try to escape, Lord Kidnapper. I dread your corporal punishments.”

“Don’t tease me, little crosspatch.” He still loved the endearment, even though she complained about it. He took her hands into his lap, working a finger over the knot. “I’m very pleased to hear you singing again. I’d worried your voice was gone for good.”

“I worried about that too.”

“Will you want to perform again, now that it’s back?”

She looked down at her hands as he began to work the knot free. “I’m not sure,” she said after a moment. “It would take a great deal of time to perform as I used to, time for vocal practice and theater rehearsal.”

“I can give you adventures,” he said, unwrapping the rope. “But I can also tolerate a life on stage for you, if that’s what you wish. Your voice is magnificent. If you wish to perform before public audiences, I’ll support you. Between your august family and mine, no hint of impropriety will stain your reputation.”

He could see she was touched by his encouragement.

“I’m not sure,” she said again. “I might want to decide later. I think…” Even though her hands were free, she still held them together. The rope had left faint marks on her skin. “Maybe someday I’ll wish to do it again.” She blinked at him. “Will you be disappointed if I don’t?”

“Of course not. If you only ever sing in the halls of Wescott Abbey, I’ll be happy. Your voice will make it feel more like home.” He traced the marks, emotion welling up unexpectedly. He heard her soul in her voice. It did make him feel he’d found his way home. “Maybe someday, we could have children,” he went on. “I can see you being a fiercely loving Mama, as my mother was. I can see you singing to our children, for joy, to make them happy.”

“Maybe they’ll want to sing too,” she said.

“I hope so. But sometimes…” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed each of them. “Sometimes I’ll want you to sing just for me.”

“You do love me, don’t you?” she asked with a sort of awe. “I worried you were only saying it to be kind, but now…I can feel that you love me. It’s not an act.”

“It’s not an act,” he agreed.

“We can make a family together, you and me. That’s very exciting, an adventure in itself. Can we do that right away? I think I’d rather do that than perform onstage.”

He cleared his throat. “Right away? My dear, do you know how babies come?”

She assured him she did, but he could tell she didn’t, so he spent the next hour or so clearing up questions about how babies came, and how her anatomy worked. By the time they stopped to change the horses, his wife was far more knowledgeable about her own sexuality—and his. By the time they got to the inn for the night, he ached for her, his lovely Ophelia.

He asked for dinner to be brought to their room. He’d stayed at this inn on numerous occasions throughout his life, whenever they went to visit his mother’s family, but it had never felt like this. He was here with his own wife, desperate to bed her now that she’d been awakened to the finer points of her sexuality.

As soon as they were alone, he took her hair down, mussing it up as he kissed her, until she looked as disheveled as she’d looked that morning.

“My sweet wife,” he murmured as she clung to him. “I want to be inside you.”

“Yes, please.” She lifted her face, breaking their kiss. “We are at another inn, aren’t we?”

“It’s going to be all right,” he promised.

“Yes. I’m not that old Ophelia anymore.”