The Stranger I Married

She spun to face him and set her hands on her hips. “Everything puts you in the mood for sex.”

“No,” he argued, entering the room with a wicked smile. “Everything about you puts me in the mood.”

She arched a brow. “Should I take your disheveled appearance and long absence as a sign? You look as if you’ve been tumbling a serving maid in the bushes.”

Lowering his hand to rub the hard length of his cock, he said, “Here is a sign you can take. Proof that my interest is only for you.” Then he pulled out the hand he had hidden behind his back, revealing a perfect red rosebud atop a very long stem. “But I think you will find this one more romantic.”

Gerard watched Pel’s eyes widen and knew that as far as roses went, the one he held aloft was a prime specimen. After all, nothing but the absolute best would do for his wife.

Her smile shook slightly, and her amber eyes glistened, making the itchy scratches on the backs of his hands pale to insignificance.

He knew that look. It was the smitten glance young debutantes had been giving him for years. That it now came from Isabel, his friend and the woman he lusted for so desperately, made everything he did not understand about courting come into clarity. Finesse may be something his primitive brand of claiming lacked, but he had always been able to be honest with Pel. “I want to woo you, win you, dazzle you.”

“How is it that you can be so crude one moment and yet so appealing the next?” she asked with a shake of her head.

“There are moments when I am unappealing?” He clasped a hand over his heart. “How distressing.”

“And impossibly, you look delectable with twigs in your hair,” she murmured. “All that effort spent on me, and outside of bed, no less. A girl could swoon.”

“Feel free, I’ll catch you.”

Her laugh made everything in the world right again. Just as it had done from the moment he met her.

“Do you know,” he murmured, “that the sight of you-dressed or undressed, sleeping or waking-has always calmed me?”

She tugged the rose free of his grasp and lifted it to her nose. “‘Calm’ is not a word I would select to describe you.”

“No? What would you choose, then?”

As she moved to add the rose to a nearby vase, he shrugged out of his coat. The knock that interrupted her reply surprised him. Then he listened to Isabel instruct the servant to bring hot water for his bath and he nodded to himself. His wife had always been one to anticipate a man’s comfort.

“Stunning,” she said when they were alone again. “Overwhelming. Determined. Relentless. Those descriptors suit you best.”

Pausing before him, she slowly undid the carved buttons of his waistcoat. “Brazen.” Pel licked her lower lip. “Seductive. Definitely seductive.”

“Married?” he suggested.

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Yes. Definitely married.” Running her hands up his chest and over the tops of his shoulders, she pushed the garment off of him.

“Enchanted,” he said in a tone made husky by the effect of her perfume and attentions.

“What?”

“Enchanted would describe me perfectly.” Thrusting his hands through her rich auburn tresses, he tugged her hard against him. “Captivated.”

“Do you find any oddness in our sudden fascination with one another?” she asked in a tone that begged for reassurance.

“Is it so sudden? I cannot seem to remember a time when I did not think you were perfect for me.”

“I have always thought you were perfection, but never did I think you were perfect for me.”

“Yes, you did, or you would not have wed me.” He nuzzled his mouth against hers. “But you did not think I was perfect for loving, which I am.”

“We really must work on building your self-confidence,” she whispered.

Gerard twisted her head slightly to better fit their kiss and then licked across her lips. When her tongue flicked out to meet his, he hummed a soft chastising sound. “Allow me to kiss you. Just take it. Take me.”

“Give me more then.”

His smile curved against hers. A woman after his own heart. “I want to lick away every trace of any other kiss you have ever had.” Cupping her nape in a hold that established his dominance, he followed the velvety softness of her upper lip with the tip of his tongue. “I want to give you your first kiss.”

“Gerard,” she whimpered, trembling.

“Do not be frightened.”

“How can I help it? You are destroying me.”

He nipped her plump lower lip with his teeth and then suckled it rhythmically, his eyes closing as the wanton taste of her inundated his senses. “I am rebuilding you, rebuilding us. I want to be the only man whose kiss you remember.”

Sliding one hand down to the curve of her derriere, he urged her against him. With his arms filled with alluring softness, his nostrils filled with exotic flowers and aroused woman, his taste buds soaked in rich flavor, Gerard was left with no doubt that he loved Isabel more than anything. It was like nothing he had ever felt for anyone and it made him happy in a way nothing in his life ever had, or ever could. He tasted her tears and knew what she couldn’t yet say.

He was about to say it for her when the scratching at the door parted them. It took far too long to have the bath prepared and the servants dismissed, but the resulting feel of Pel’s fingers sifting soap through his hair and over his back was worth the wait. Then he noted the shaking of her hands and knew he had to distract her from her fears until he could take her to bed. There they’d never had any difficulty connecting intimately. With that in mind, he hurried the process.

“Would you like to discuss what lured you and Lady Ansell out to the garden earlier?” he asked, belting his robe before accepting the warmed brandy she offered him.

“Fresh air?” She took a seat in a nearby chair.

Gerard moved to the window. “You can simply tell me to mind my own affairs.”

“Mind your own affairs,” she retorted with laughter in her voice.

“Now I am intrigued.”

“I knew you would be.” He heard her sigh. “Apparently, conception is a problem for them, and it is causing a strain.”

“Lady Ansell is barren?”

“Yes, her physician says the state is due to her advanced years.”

He shook his head in sympathy. “Unfortunate for them that Ansell is an only child, so the burden rests entirely upon their shoulders.” Taking a large swallow, he considered his own good fortune in having siblings. “You and I will never face that strain.”

“I suppose not.”

There was something in her tone that made his stomach clench in apprehension, but he hid the reaction by keeping his back to her and his tone casual. “Are you considering pregnancy?”

“Did you not say that you wished to build something lasting? What is more lasting than lineage?”

“Having two brothers negates that concern somewhat,” he said carefully, fighting off the sudden tremor that moved him. The mere thought of Isabel increasing struck terror in him like he had never known. His hand shook so badly, the liquor in his glass sloshed precariously. He was only grateful that she could not see his upset from her vantage behind him.

Emily.

Her death and the death of their child had very nearly destroyed him, and he had not loved Em like he loved Isabel. If something were to happen to his wife, if he should lose her…

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his grip to relax before he shattered the goblet.

“Does it negate your wish to have issue?” she asked behind him.

He heaved out his breath. How in hell was he to respond to that? He would give up