subdued and ingratiating, his gaze nervously flicking to Oz, “My compliments… on your marriage, cousin. I wish you the best.” He saw Oz frown and quickly added, “And much happiness… in the future. Naturally… from Maman as well.”
“Thank you, Compton,” Oz remarked, bringing the stumbling recitation to an end. “We appreciate your kind regards. I’m sure Isolde and I desire all the very best for you as well,” he offered in a meticulously gentle tone. “Might I tempt you with some of my chef’s offerings or a drink perhaps,” he added, taking Compton’s arm in a hard grasp. “If you”ll excuse us, darling.” Isolde was ashen. Catching Fitz’s eye over the crowd, he nodded at his wife and drew Compton away.
“You’re shaking,” Rosalind murmured moments later, taking Isolde’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“I shouldn’t be so fainthearted,” Isolde said with a small sigh. “Frederick’s been intimidating me too long, I think. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
Rosalind looked up at her husband.
“We could put an end to that intimidation,” Fitz said, reading his wife’s gaze. “Oz and I.”
“No, no, please-that’s not necessary.” The duke sounded just as Oz had when he’d threatened to shoot Frederick. “I’m sure my cousin will leave soon. Perhaps if I sit for a minute…”
“Of course,” Rosalind said. “Would you like Fitz to fetch you a lemonade? Good. Fitz, darling. We’ll go and sit down over there.”
Moments later, Fitz returned with Oz and the lemonade.
“He’s gone,” Oz said, unruffled as he’d been throughout. “Here, dear, take a sip, although you probably could use something stronger.”
Isolde drank down a good portion of the lemonade before handing it back to Oz. “I’m feeling more myself now. Thank you, everyone. I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“Nonsense. You may do as you wish.”
Isolde experienced a great wave of relief at the transcendent power in her husband’s simple words. He lived his life without restraint, uncowed and undaunted. And with Frederick’s menacing image still vivid in her brain, she deeply appreciated the confidence and strength that lay beneath Oz’s glittering charm. “If you mean it,” she said, astonished at the timidity of her tone, “perhaps we might-”
He smiled. “End this charade?”
She nodded, suddenly exhausted in body and spirit.
Oz turned to the Grovelands. “Many thanks for your support and assistance tonight. I’m sure you’re as ready to leave as we.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Fitz said, taking Rosalind’s hand. “I hope you’re more yourself in the morning,” he gallantly added with a smile for Isolde.
“I will be, I know. I so appreciate your company.”
Oz met Fitz’s gaze, the men of a height, temperament, and understanding.
“If you need anything, let me know.” Although in terms of human management, Oz’s skills were impeccable. Turning to Isolde, Fitz offered their good-bys.
“We must have dinner when you’re back in town,” Rosalind said, their earlier conversation touching on their departure for Cambridgeshire.
“Yes, thank you,” Isolde said, because it was expected of her.
Oz nodded. “We’ll call on you.”
A moment later, Oz quietly said, “Would you like me to carry you?”
“Heavens no!”
He smiled at her alarm. “You have to learn not to give a damn, darling. I’ll teach you.”
“Just not at this moment if you don’t mind,” she quickly said, coming to her feet. “I’m fine… really-perfectly fine.” She held out her arm. “Look-a steady hand.”
He liked that toughness she prided herself on-occasional moments in reference to Compton notwithstanding. Her stubborn intrepidity was what had first endeared her to him. Not that her independent streak didn’t turn mutinous at times, but then that only added to her allure. He wasn’t bored yet when he always was long before this.
“Am I allowed to take your hand?” he sportively inquired, doing just that.
“No.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, tightening his clasp. “You’re always so accommodating. That must be why we get along.”
“We get along because I can keep up with you in bed.”
“And even exceed me at times.” He shot her a grin as they moved toward the corridor. “I find that exceptional flair most attractive in you.”
His hand was large and firm and reassuringly warm. “While I find you exceptionally difficult.” She was smiling though.
“But loveable.”
“If only so many other women didn’t think so as well.”
“How can it matter?”
“So practical, Lennox.”
“We both are.” His voice was relaxed. “Practical with regard to this marriage.”
“And with regard to the sex.”
“Especially the sex. Which provides me uncommon delight.”
She wanted to ask,
And in that she took solace.
But it turned out to be a night quite separate from anything so tame as beguilement. It was a night of hot, steamy sex, of frenzied, furious sex, of sex with a hint of violence at times, but not without a fanatical degree of pleasure as well. Until Isolde finally cried, “No more!”
“Are you sure?” Oz panted, trying to drag air into his lungs. “Sorry,” he whispered, meeting her gaze. “You’re sure.” Exhaling softly, he rolled onto his back, gathered her into his arms, and watched her fall asleep in seconds.
His heart was still pounding like a drum.
He felt as if he could last a week, a month.
She was amazing.
He was looking forward to his conjugal duties with real pleasure.
CHAPTER 11
ISOLDE ’S TRAVELING CARRIAGE, brought to Oz’s from Blackwood’s after the wedding, was at the curb outside Lennox House the next morning. Oz had been up early as usual and came up to speak to Isolde when she woke. He had a few arrangements to make before he could leave, he explained. One of his ships was due in port that morning. He’d ride up later. He wanted to have his favorite thoroughbred with him in Cambridgeshire.
Achille fussed over them at breakfast, so they smiled at each other more than they spoke, both of them pleasantly relaxed after their night of wild passion. Although they frequently took note of the time: Isolde was anxious to return home; Oz had a call to make.
After breakfast, Oz escorted Isolde to her carriage. In anticipation of the scandal accruing to the published reports of her denouement, she’d chosen to avoid the train. “I shouldn’t be long in London,” he said, offering her his hand to step up into the carriage. He was already dressed for travel in a dark coat, chamois breeches, and riding boots. “I may even overtake you before you reach home. Lift your feet.” He took a foot warmer from a waiting footman and slid it under her booted feet. “You’re sure you don’t want a lady’s maid with you?”
“I’m sure. I’ll be home in a few hours.” Pulling her fur-lined cape over the skirt of her traveling gown, cleaned and pressed by Oz’s staff, she wiggled her toes against the heat of the ironstone container filled with hot coals.
