Tonight she had things to say for herself. She dropped her wrapper on a chair. She was naked underneath. She slipped into bed.
“I didn’t tell you this afternoon,” she began. “I didn’t get time.”
In the process of ripping off his clothes, he froze. “What? Another secret?”
She nodded. “I love you too. I think it started when—oof!”
He lay on top of her, naked, his eyes glittering in the lamplight. “What did you say?”
She wound her arms around him. “Only that I love you, Edward Galbraith, with all my heart and soul and body.”
His heat soaked into her and he kissed her like a man starved. “You waited all this time to tell me? God, but I’ve missed you.” His fingers slid between her thighs, and finding her slick and hot and more than ready, he plunged into her, taking her fast and hard, driving into her with a smooth, relentless rhythm that built rapidly into a crescendo of such power that she shot straight over the top. She screamed and spasmed around him and he let out a triumphant shout as they shattered together.
Afterward, murmuring soft words of love, he lavished kisses all over her body. “Tell me again.”
“I love you.”
Between kisses they talked, but soon the caresses grew more and more feverish and they made love again. And again she shattered into a million pieces.
She waited then, for him to slip out of the bed—there were plenty of beds here, and he’d been given his own room, adjoining hers. But he made no move to leave her. Cautiously, not wanting to disturb him, she snuggled up against him, cuddling up against his chest. He grunted, half asleep, and wrapped a hard arm around her waist, pulling her closer, curving his body possessively around her as his breathing slowed and he slipped into heavy, exhausted sleep.
Lily kissed him softly, breathing in the scent of his skin, and followed him into oblivion. They were home. He just didn’t know it yet.
• • •
Where was Lily? Ned had told her they were leaving immediately after breakfast. It was almost ten, and where was she? He’d looked in her bedchamber and found a maidservant making up the bed—not anyone he recognized, and she didn’t seem to know him, thank God. “Leave that and pack Mrs. Galbraith’s things,” he told her.
He couldn’t wait to get away. There was an itch between his shoulder blades, as if everywhere he went there were snipers lurking in the shadows. He needed to grab Lily and go. But where the hell was she?
He found her, of all places, in the kitchen, packing food into a large wicker basket. “What are you doing here?” he said irritably.
“Packing food into a basket.”
“I can see that.” He supposed it was common sense to take food for the journey. “Hurry along, then, will you? Walton will be bringing the coach around in a few minutes. I told a maid to pack your things.”
“There was no need.” She continued flitting around the kitchen, collecting things for the wretched basket. She picked up a large jar of pickled onions and put it in the basket.
“There was every need. You hadn’t even started packing. I don’t like pickled onions, by the way.”
She gave him a quick smile. “I know. There’s plenty of time for me to pack.” She didn’t remove the jar of onions.
“There isn’t. I told you last night that we would leave first thing this morning.”
“Yes, you did.” She wrapped two large wedges of cheese and added them to the basket. “You didn’t ask me whether it suited me or not.”
Whether it suited her or not? Blasted female pride. He mustn’t order, he must ask. “If it suits you, my dear, I wish to leave this morning.” His voice dripped with ironic courtesy. She was driving him wild, and not the way she had in bed last night.
It was this blasted place. He needed to get away.
“I know”—she gave him a blithe smile—“but I’m not ready to leave yet.”
He blinked at her in stupefaction. “You’re not ready to leave?” The itch between his shoulder blades deepened.
“No, not yet.” She folded a cloth and tucked it over the contents of the basket. “There’s a ruined abbey with a mineral spring—well, of course you must know of it. Twice now your grandfather and I planned to visit it, but our plans had to be canceled. I want to see it before I leave.”
“Well, you can’t!” he snapped. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. If you’re not in the carriage I’ll leave without you.” It was a bluff. He wasn’t going anywhere without her. He’d missed her damnably in the past few weeks and then, when he thought she’d been taken . . . the nameless terror he’d felt . . .
He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight.
She didn’t turn a hair. “Very well, my dear, you go ahead. I’m going to visit the ruined abbey. It’s a lovely day—really, we have been blessed with the weather, but it cannot last.”
“I don’t care about the weather,” he began in exasperation.
“No, but a picnic is so much more comfortable when it’s fine. The local women tell me the water from the spring is sure to guarantee an heir.” She gave him a bland, sweet smile. “You can come with me. If we both drink it, we will surely double our chances.”
He glared at her in baffled outrage. Where was the demure and obedient little creature he’d married, so eager to please? Was this what happened when you told a woman you loved her?
Didn’t she realize he had to get away?
“No, dammit, I’m not going anywhere except back to London—today—and you’re coming with me.”
“Take this, will you?” She handed him the covered basket. “And this. It’s sunny at the moment, but it might get chilly later.” She draped a cloak over his arm.
“Lily, did you not hear me? I—”
But she’d whisked herself out the kitchen door and was gone. He followed her into the yard,
