"I love you," he said suddenly, and Emma stopped batting at his hands to peer at him wideeyed.
"You do?" she asked with awe.
"Aye," he said solemnly.
"Wh--" Emma paused to lick her lips, then managed to ask. "Why?"
Amaury's eyebrows rose at that, and she flushed bright red.
"I mean, what do you love about me?"
Easing his embrace, he sat back to eye her thoughtfully, then gave a wry smile. " 'Twould be easier to tell you what I do not love."
Her eyes narrowed at that. "What do you not love?" she asked suspiciously.
"Your temper," he admitted promptly. "But only when it is directed at me. Else I love even that." When she peered at him doubtfully, he pulled her close again and hugged her. "I think you know I love your body."
Emma blushed and nodded shyly.
"I also love your mind. 'Tis as fine as any man's I have met."
Her lips tipped up with pleasure at that.
"But mostly, I love how you make me feel," he admitted quietly. "I am happy with you. I feel at home."
Tears shining in her eyes, Emma hugged him closer when he would have pulled away, and admitted, "I love you too. Sometimes I feel I was not even really alive until you came into my life. I . . ." Her voice trailed away as she realized he wasn't listening, but was intent on touching seemingly every part of her. "Husband, I love you, but the Church says--"
"I know." Amaury pulled back again to smile at her. Contrary to what she thought, he had been listening to her, and the fact that she loved him back made him so happy he wanted to explode. Preferably inside of her. His smile deepening, Amaury suddenly turned her in his arms, his hands moving to work busily at her stays.
"The Church is made up of men, wife," he began his lecture. "And men, even holy men, are not infallible. For instance, they believe that ladies do not enjoy the joining." The stays undone, he slid her gown off her shoulders to fall in a pool at her feet, then turned her in his arms again. "Did you know that?"
"N-nay," Emma gasped as his lips closed over one nipple through her chemise.
"Nay?" he asked with surprise, pulling his head away from her breasts to lift her under-tunic over her head now.
"I mean, aye," she corrected quickly as she briefly regained her senses now that his lips were not torturing her. "Aye, I knew that. Mayhap there is something wrong with me. Or mayhap I am not a true lady."
About to drop the under-gown to the ground, Amaury paused, anger flashing across his face. "Never say that, wife. You are every inch a lady. But you are also a woman." He turned to lay her gown over the chest by the bed, then turned back, his eyes alight as they traveled over her. "With a woman's body." He reached for that body now, running his hands freely over it as he whispered huskily, "And a woman's desires."
Emma moaned against his lips as he finally kissed her, her own hands moving to tug at his clothes. She hadn't even managed to get his sword buckle undone when he ended the kiss to help her.
" 'Sides, 'tis my fault."
In the process of tugging his shirt up over his chest, Emma paused to peer at him in confusion. "What is your fault, husband?"
"Your enjoyment of the mating," he explained, tugging his tunic over his head himself. " 'Tis my touch that sets you so afire. Is it not? Without that, you no doubt would not enjoy the joining at all. Unfortunately, I like it when you like it, so I make sure you like it."
He paused to peer at her, a lecherous grin on his face. " 'Tis the sounds you make. Moans and groans and high-pitched wails. And you writhe beneath me. I like that too." He kissed her then until she began to shudder against him and make some of those sounds. Then he pulled back and drew her hand down to cover his manhood through his braies. "You see? It fires me up. 'Tis all my fault."
He released her then to remove those braies, and Emma let her eyes drift over his body, taking in the wide strong chest, the hard-muscled legs, and everything in between. She was not surprised at the wave of heat that rolled up through her, or the fact that her toes were curling into the rushes beneath her feet. Just looking at her husband was enough to set her afire, but he did not need to know that, she decided.
"Oh, aye, husband," she breathed huskily, stepping into his arms as he straightened from removing the last of his clothes. " 'Tis your fault. 'Tis your touch that fires me so." She caught a glimpse of his satisfied smile before his lips covered hers, and she thought how lucky she was to have a husband like him. And soon they would have a child too. Then she stopped thinking altogether as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.