“And now that you’re all clean, I thought you might enjoy a chance to sit down to dinner.” He walked up behind her, encircled her waist with his arm, and pulled her back against him.
“Isn’t it a bit early for dinner?” she asked.
Colin buried his nose in her hair and breathed in her perfume. “We’re keeping country hours,” he reminded her. “And I’m hungry. We haven’t eaten more than a bite or two all day. I need sustenance in order to keep up with a wife suffering from insatiable curiosity.” He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “And we might as well give the staff something to do.”
“Rather than just something to talk about.” Gillian turned to face him, and then reached up and put her arms around his neck.
Colin chuckled. “A woman of wit. I like that in a wife.”
“A man who appreciates it,” she countered. “I like that in a husband.”
“Then we’re fortunate we’ve made such a good match.” Colin’s voice was low and husky and trembling with emotion.
“In bed and out of it.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he warned. “I’m trying to be considerate, and you’re perilously close to ending up back in bed.”
“I intend to end up back in it,” she informed him. “As soon after dinner as can politely be arranged.”
“You,” he said, punctuating the pronoun with a kiss, “have probably had enough lovemaking for one day.”
“Can one ever have enough lovemaking?” she asked.
“Oh, Gillian...” Colin hugged her close. “Remember you said that, my sweet. Because once the soreness sets in, you’re bound to feel differently in the morning.”
“Will you?” she challenged.
Colin shook his head. “It doesn’t usually work that way for men. Chances are I’m going to want to start each morning making love to you for the rest of my life.”
“Then I hope you live to be ninety,” she said.
Colin laughed. “If there’s any hope of that happening, I’ll need food. And quickly.” He let go of her, then walked over to the bed and picked up her delicate undergarments. “And since you cannot go down to dinner wearing that,” he nodded toward her silk wrapper, “we’d better get you dressed.”
“I’ll need a corset,” Gillian told him.
Colin frowned. She hadn’t needed a corset with her other gowns. “Can’t you go without it?”
“I’d be delighted to,” she informed him. “But I don’t think you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“Why don’t we try it and see?” Colin suggested, doing his best to avoid testing his newly acquired lady’s maid skills by having to lace Gillian into a corset.
Colin slipped her chemise over her head and followed it with her gown, then buttoned her into it.
But when Gillian turned to face him, he realized why she needed a corset. His heart caught in his throat as his blood rushed to his nether regions and began a steady throbbing against the front of his trousers. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I thought I did.”
The squared bodice of this particular gown was cut lower than her wedding dress had been—too low to offer any support for her lush bosom or any coverage. Anyone looking down at her could see from bosom to belly button with very little effort. “Where do you keep your corsets?”
“There should be one in the smaller trunk.”
Colin returned moments later, gripping one in his large hand.
Gillian waited while he unbuttoned her, then stepped out of her evening dress.
“Over or under your chemise?” he asked.
“That depends on whether you prefer indentions from the boning of the corset on my flesh or wrinkle marks from my chemise,” she informed him.