Tears of joy trickled from the corners of her eyes, ran down her cheeks, and disappeared into the silk of her hair as she felt the first tremors flow through her.
Surrendering to the emotions swirling inside her, Miranda gave voice to the passion building inside her as Daniel rocked her to him and exploded inside her. “I love you, Daniel.”
“I think I’ve lost the hearing in one ear,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek, burying his fingers in her hair, tasting the saltiness of the tears on her face. “You might have warned me that you were a screamer.”
“How could I?” she asked. “When I’ve never been one until now?”
He lifted his head and looked down at her face. God, but she was beautiful. Daniel shuddered as a rush of emotion raced through him. He should have spoken words of love instead of words of passion.
I love you, Daniel.
She had said the words loud enough for him to hear. He smiled. She’d screamed the words loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He should have done the same.
He should have cherished her and treated her more tenderly instead of using her to slake his raging desire. She deserved a better introduction to passion than the one he’d just given her. And he’d see that
she got it.
Just as soon as he recovered from this one.
Chapter Twenty
“Every one complains of a poor memory,
no one of a weak judgment.”
—François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld, 1613–1680
Miranda awoke with a start to the sound of a coach driving up. She pushed the hair out of her eyes and looked around. The bedroom drapes were open and the room was filled with sunshine. She looked at the clock. It was a few minutes past nine in the morning and Daniel was still fast asleep.
She covered a yawn with her hand, then rolled out of bed and pulled on her undergarments and dress. The marble chessboard was lying on the carpet surrounded by toppled chessmen. She righted the chessboard and began collecting the pieces along with the handful of hairpins scattered on the floor. Miranda stepped into her slippers and quietly opened the door and walked down the hall, where she made her way to the bath so as not to disturb Daniel.
She finished her toilette and was anchoring the last of her hairpins in place when she entered the kitchen to find Ned already inside, surrounded by more baskets of provisions and several brown-paper-wrapped packages bearing the name of Daniel’s tailor.
“I came as soon as I could!” he exclaimed, breathless with excitement. “I thought His Grace would want to know about it. The news is all over town. And in the morning papers.”
“His mother?” Miranda demanded. “Has something happened to his mother?” She didn’t care much for the dowager duchess and she knew the dowager duchess despised her, but Daniel loved his mother, and to her credit, Miranda’s first thought was for her.
“No, milady.”
“Our marriage? Has news of it leaked out?”
“Not that I’m aware, milady,” Ned answered.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s the Marquess of Shepherdston,” Ned announced. “He fought a duel this morning.”
“Against whom?” Miranda held her breath, praying she wouldn’t hear the name Micah.
“Lord Dunbridge.”
Miranda frowned. “Lord Reginald Dunbridge?”
“The same.”
“Shepherdston isn’t … ?”
Ned shook his head and continued feverishly unpacking the things he’d purchased.