“Are you sure I can’t change your mind about the mummers?”
Arran glanced up from his speech at Rachel’s wheedling words, and as usual, took a moment to savor the delectable sight of her hip-swaying, breast-bobbing entrance into a room. While his wife now had an extensive and lavish wardrobe that fitted just so, much like their stolen moments at the Queen’s Standard, she continued to amuse, delight and challenge him both in bed and out. At least once a day he congratulated himself on marrying the most perfect woman in England. “Not a chance, kitten. We want to ensure that everyone returns home unmaimed, even the Prince Regent. Your juggling is entirely too unpredictable.”
“Ha,” said Rachel, perching on the corner of his desk and smoothing her dark green gown. “I can think of no one who requires an accidental club to the head more than the future king.”
“Be that as it may,” he replied as he put down his quill, utterly distracted by her nearness, “we’ll let someone else take care of that. I’m not sure he has forgiven you yet for beating him soundly at whist the last time he was here. And you know how he holds a grudge. Far more importantly, how is my daughter?”
“I was about to ask you that exact question.”
Arran tugged on his abruptly too-tight cravat. “How would I know?”
Rachel’s lips twitched. “Do not give me that innocent look, husband. I’m well aware that while I was attending the hospital fundraising committee meeting with Celia, you were upstairs ahem offering advice to the vastly experienced nursery maids regarding Cassie’s favorite lullaby. And cloth doll. And how best to rock her to sleep.”
Well. It was hardly his fault that two-month-old Lady Cassandra Elliott, named for Rachel’s mother and not only the most beautiful baby ever born but already exhibiting signs of genius, preferred his shoulder above all else for her napping spot. And sure, while it might be unfashionable for a father to spend more than a few minutes in the nursery, how else was he to witness those important moments? Such as when she gazed up at him with wide hazel eyes just like her mother’s and cooed what sounded remarkably like an attempt to say Papa?
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he said repressively.
His marchioness leaned forward and looked deep into his eyes. “You’ll have to repeat that, sorry. It sounded like cluck cluck cluck.”
“Beg pardon?”
“You heard me. Hmmm, or perhaps you didn’t. I mean you are thirty-one now. Positively ancient.”
Arran leaned back in his chair and tilted his head. “If I didn’t know better, my lady, I might think you were trying to provoke me in the hope of discipline.”
She batted her long lashes. “Who, me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Because it has been entirely too long since I had a spanking or cropping,” she replied with an adorably disgruntled pout. “I am quite recovered from Cassie’s birth. And there is time before we need to start getting dressed for the ball.”
Arran stifled a groan as his cock began to throb. “Is there, now?”
“So much time,” she whispered. “And…ah…after the meeting Celia and I found a discreet shop in Piccadilly that sells very naughty things to ladies of quality. I didn’t want to know what she bought for her and Harry, because ugh, but I purchased a few little items.”
“Items such as?”
“A blindfold. Some scented oil. And…a small leather dildo that the shop assistant said would be just perfect for my bottom. I thought that sounded quite interesting, having two places filled at once.”
“So,” he said slowly, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb against the inside of her wrist, his cock now straining against his trousers. “Not only have you been provocative in speech, but also in deeds.”
Rachel tried to nod sadly, the effect utterly ruined by an eager smile. “I have.”
“Then I have no choice but to administer a stern spanking.”
She whimpered. “No choice at all, sir.”
Unable to stop himself, Arran cupped her cheek and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I love you, Rachel. My marchioness…and my mistletoe mistress.”
“My marquess, and master,” she replied, all the love in the world in her eyes.
He helped her off the desk, and arm in arm they left his library, ready for a new and splendidly wicked adventure.
Together.
Also by Nicola Davidson
Regency full length
Wickedly Wed series
Duke in Darkness (#1)
The London Lords series
To Love a Hellion (#1)
Rake to Riches (#2)
Tempting the Marquess (#3)
Regency novellas
Fallen trilogy
Surrender to Sin (#1)
The Devil's Submission (#2)
The Seduction of Viscount Vice (#3)
Surrey SFS quintet
My Lady's Lover (#1)
To Tame a Wicked Widow (#2)
My Lord, Lady, and Gentleman (#3)
At His Lady's Command (#4)
A Very Surrey SFS Christmas (#5)
Surrey SFS - The Complete Series boxset
Also by Nicola Davidson
Regency Standalones
Once Upon a Promise
Joy to the Earl
Mistletoe Mistress
Medieval Scotland
Highland Ménage series
Scandalous Passions (FFM)
Wicked Passions (MMF)
Tudor novellas
His Forbidden Lady
One Forbidden Knight
Contemporary
Ladies First (erotic short stories)
About the Author
NICOLA DAVIDSON worked for many years in communications and marketing, as well as television and print journalism, but hasn’t looked back since she decided writing wicked historical romance was infinitely more fun. When not chained to a computer she can be found ambling along one of New Zealand’s beautiful beaches, cheering on the champion All Blacks rugby team, history geeking on the internet, or daydreaming. If this includes chocolate—even better!
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