The Marquess Tames His Bride

‘Nevertheless,’ said Rawcliffe, leaning back and twirling his wineglass by the stem, ‘I hope that each of you will be able to take some time off while we are down here.’

‘That is very good of you, my lord,’ said Ponsonby, unbending a touch. ‘I shall inform the staff and organise their leisure hours so that there will be no inconvenience to you, or her ladyship.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Rawcliffe tersely, ‘or I would not have made the suggestion.’

Which made Clare wonder whether Rawcliffe or Ponsonby was the one being hardest on the servants. However, to show her appreciation, she made sure she sampled a little of every dish and sauce Ponsonby brought to table, declaring each one more delicious than the last. She actually had no need to pretend to marvel over the little spun-sugar baskets filled with fresh strawberries. They were works of art.

She was just beginning to wonder if her stay laces could withstand any more strain, when Ponsonby set a plate of cheeses on the table. ‘Chef thought you might like to sample some local cheeses to finish with,’ he announced.

Oh, thank heaven.

Rawcliffe cut a small piece from two of the truckles and placed them on his plate. She simply shook her head. Her stays had survived this far, but she wasn’t prepared to test them any further. ‘I couldn’t eat another bite.’

Rawcliffe gave her a heated look across the cheese board. ‘All the exercise, climbing up over the moors today, must have made you tired. Perhaps you would like to go up to bed?’

Oh, yes, she would like to go up to bed. It was just that she hadn’t dreamed for a minute that he’d announce the fact to his butler. Who was smiling at her in a positively avuncular fashion.

‘Oh…er… I…’ she stammered.

‘I shan’t be far behind you,’ said Rawcliffe, with the kind of look in his eyes that made her think of that time he had entered her from behind with animalistic fervour.

Blushing feverishly, she laid her napkin down beside her plate and allowed Ponsonby to hold her chair out for her as she got to her feet.

‘I…er…goodnight!’ She fled from the room and went up the stairs in a far from dignified manner, shot into her bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaning on it for support. If he were to come in now, he could push her down on to her hands and knees, and find her ready to receive him. It was as if the whole day had been a slow, tortuous preparation for the moment when they could get to the bed.

There was a firm knock at the door which had her leaping from it with a guilty start, as though she’d been caught napping in church.

She opened the door, to find Nancy on the landing, a jug of warm water in her hands and a towel over her arm.

But just mounting the stairs, with a slow, deliberate tread, was Rawcliffe. And he was looking at her as though he felt about the same as she did. As though, if they didn’t get their clothes off, and their hands on each other soon, he would explode.

‘Thank you, Nancy,’ he said tersely, taking the jug, basin and towel from the maid. ‘I believe my wife will have no need of you tonight.’

Nancy grinned and dipped her head. As Rawcliffe stepped into the room and kicked the door shut behind him, she could swear she could hear the maid giggling.

Which was awful.

‘Your servants will all know what we’re about to do,’ she protested. ‘You might as well have issued a proclamation!’

He raised one eyebrow, then went across to the wash stand where he deposited the items he’d taken from Nancy. ‘We are doing nothing we have not done every other night since our marriage,’ he pointed out calmly.

‘That’s different. You didn’t oust Nancy from the room with such…’

‘Impatience?’

He stalked towards her, shucking off his jacket. ‘But I am impatient. I feel as if I have been waiting for this moment all day.’

She gulped. And far from making any further protest, when he kissed her she flung her arms about his waist and kissed him back for all she was worth.

She could never hang on to a single rational thought once he started kissing her. It was as if he turned her into a creature who was all passion. She needed to feel skin on skin and to that end she began to burrow under his shirt. Just as he was burrowing under her clothes and tearing at fastenings to make their progress towards nudity as swift as was humanly possible.