It seemed a long time later when she drifted back down to earth. Joseph was still pressed close, his heart beating in a cadence to match hers. For the next few minutes, she just lay beside him, content to listen to the two of them breathing while she savored the new and wonderful sensation of his warm body against hers.
“It was bliss,” she whispered when she finally felt able to form words.
“It was.” He kissed her cheek, her nose, her forehead.
“It was beautiful.”
“It was.” He kissed her mouth.
Her lips clung to his for a long, satisfying moment. “I’m so glad I talked you into doing this now.”
“So am I.” She heard a smile in his voice. “Now you’ll come to me on our wedding night with only joy.”
“Oh, yes, it was joyful.” She felt deliciously worn out. “And our wedding is three weeks away. More than three weeks away. By the time of our wedding night, I reckon we’ll have had plenty of practice, so that everything will be very, very joyful.”
“What?” She felt him pull away a little. She couldn’t see him, but she sensed he was looking at her with a bit of consternation. Or trying to look at her, anyway. “We’ll be in my parents’ home all of those three weeks. At least”—she heard his breath catch—“I assume we’ll both be in my parents’ home. You’re not still planning to go to Wales, are you?”
“Of course not,” she said with a soft laugh.
She’d never expected to laugh in bed with a man, but it felt right.
Everything with Joseph felt right.
“I never wanted to go to Wales at all,” she added, shifting closer. “But we’ll be in your parents’ home after those three weeks as well, won’t we? This is Tremayne, and you’re the Viscount Tremayne.”
I’m going to be the Viscountess Tremayne, she thought, feeling a little thrill run through her. I’m going to be Lady Tremayne.
“Yes, we’ll be here at Tremayne afterwards too. But we’ll be married then. We cannot ‘practice’ in my parents’ home before we’re wed. Surely you understand that.”
“Surely I don’t.” He was absolutely darling. “We’re in your parents’ home now, aren’t we?”
“They cannot find us here!” he exclaimed too loudly. “We’re in a priest hole!”
“Hush!” she admonished in a whisper. “You need to keep quiet, my love. You don’t want to be caught down here, do you?”
She thought she heard him choking, but then she realized she was hearing suppressed laughter. “That’s the second time within an hour that you’ve parroted my words,” he said once he got himself under control. “Shall I assume you’ll be doing this all of my life?”
“All of our lives. And I’m afraid so.” It actually wasn’t much a habit of hers, but she’d look for opportunities since it amused him. “I hope you’ll still want to marry me anyway.”
“Of course I still want to marry you. But I don’t want to do this again until we’re married.” She heard a little pout in his voice. “Not in my parents’ home.”
“Really? Really, Joseph?” She pressed closer, feeling evidence that he was lying. “I think you do want to do this again. But you just go on thinking that.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” he accused. “I can tell from your tone that you’re thinking you’ll seduce me again. Well, I have more control than you think. It won’t work. You won’t be able to seduce me until you have a wedding ring on your finger.”
“You think not?” she said, wishing she could send him her best challenging look.
But it was pitch-black.
So she just whispered, “Watch me.”
TWENTY-FOUR
CHRYSTABEL AND JOSEPH had lain wrapped in each other’s arms for a long while, sometimes kissing and sometimes just breathing. Then they’d risen and dressed, laughing softly as they felt around for their clothes on the floor. After that, exhausted, they had crawled back on the bed to rest, chatting in whispers while they waited for Arabel to return and tell them it was safe to come out. At some point they had fallen asleep.
Chrystabel woke when she heard a scraping sound overhead.
The wardrobe’s false bottom was being removed. For a moment, she panicked—her heart began beating double-time. But then she blinked herself more wakeful and chided herself, because surely it was just Arabel, coming to free them at last.
When the bottom was lifted, dim light filtered in first.
“Arabel?” she called softly.
Bright light flooded the chamber as a torch was thrust into the opening above. “I knew it!” Sir Leonard crowed as he descended, sounding disgustingly pleased with himself.
Chrystabel and Joseph bolted upright simultaneously.
She heard the third step snap, a loud crack like a cricket bat slamming a ball in the Grange’s village square. But Sir Leonard didn’t falter. He came closer, waving the torch before him in victory.
“I knew I’d find you hiding with this foul lot. Mark my words, girl, your great friend Trentingham will finally get what’s coming to him. And as for you, Creath—you will marry me today, or—”
“Who is Beth?” Chrystabel squeaked.
“Who is…? Who the devil are you?” he roared as he reached the bottom.
Apparently Joseph hadn’t completely reattached Chrystabel’s stomacher in the dark. Working the remaining tabs as surreptitiously as possible, she shakily rose. “I’m Lady Chrystabel Trevor,” she said with all the dignity she could muster—which was quite a bit. “Don’t you remember me from when you came by on Tuesday evening? I’m a guest of the Ashcrofts. I don’t know who this Beth is you’re speaking of, but I can assure you she’s not here.”
“Not Beth, you halfwit—Creath! It rhymes with breath!” He crisscrossed the room frantically, poking the torch into every corner in a fruitless search for his betrothed.
“Creath isn’t here, Sir Leonard,” Joseph growled, knotting his cravat from his seat on the bed. “It’s the second time you’ve made this mistake. If you leave now, perhaps we’ll pretend it was an honest one.”
“Do you
