Not giving him leave to protest—or herself a chance to inspect his chamber, she set about the smile-worthy task of ridding them of their clothes.
A light push to his chest and she backed him to the bed. A single finger to his shoulder and he sat.
“Boots.” She pointed. “Off. Now.” She giggled. (Giggled? Definitely not something she’d done much of in her past.) “See? I can say a lot in a few words too.”
As she stepped back to give him room, he snared her waist and hauled her to him. Slanting her mouth downward with a strong hand to the back of her head, he captured her gasp of surprise and gave her a bruisingly fierce kiss.
The pressure of his mouth upon hers said so much.
With bold sweeps of his tongue and the firm caress of his fingers against her scalp he expressed his longing. Tender nips greeted first her top lip and then the bottom. His harsh exhalation as he scraped his teeth over the sensitive flesh he exposed when he gently sucked on her lower lip told her he’d been waiting for the right moment to devour her. To explain.
His every action shouted that he was sorry, that he cared, that he wanted her. Needed this. This. Whatever it was between them that defied the short amount of time they’d been together.
His hand swept down to center over one breast, to rub the slight swell, tease the nipple into an aching point. The intense pressure lifted her to her toes and into him as she toppled forward against his chest and he pulled her tongue into his mouth, as she told him, I’m here. I need you back.
As fast as it began, he gentled the assault. His other hand slid from her head to her spine, a sweeping caress that left tingles in its wake. The devastating kisses turned soft and romantic.
He wooed her lips into sultry surrender and the rest of her followed.
At her moan, he pulled his head back, held her gaze as his kiss-swollen mouth tilted in a not-quite smile and his palm cupped her breast even more firmly and he eased her back to her feet.
“Well now.” She spoke through the passionate fog befuddling her senses. “And here you thought that would keep me quiet! Boots, sir, that’s a command.”
His eyes promised sensual retribution but he did as bade.
“Breeches next. Then shirt and drawers— Oh, wait!” She turned her back and scooted between his knees, thankful hers hadn’t failed her—they were quivering like aspic after that swoon-worthy kiss. “Unfasten me, please? The buttons near my neck.”
He did, giving her waist a deliberate squeeze before releasing her.
“Aye, I like this,” she said as she untied the ribbon cinching her dress around her middle. “Like having the freedom to say whatever comes to mind without fear of being reprimanded. Mr. Hurwell was rather persnickety in that regard. Thought females didn’t have the mental acumen to understand lofty topics beyond breakfast menus or starching neckcloths.” She whisked away those old concerns when she whisked her dress over her head.
“My stays? If you would, please?” Again Thea came close. “Mrs. Samuels helped me earlier—” She took a breath to give his freshly revealed chest a kiss. Backing away from his warm skin, she turned and flashed him a flirty look from over her shoulder. “I much prefer it when you help. Thank you. Your drawers now—”
When she took a step away and cast an appreciative glance over his form, the part of him protruding through the fine undergarment threatened to steal her chatter. But she was made of sterner stuff; no turning shy now! “I do realize—”
He halted her rampant ramble with an upraised finger.
“Aye?”
“Why?” He spoke without hesitating although his voice had gone completely hoarse.
“Why…?”
“Hurw…” The rough syllable sounded like a shovel scraping over stone.
Thea rushed to guess before he could harm himself further. “Why did he think me feebleminded?”
A frown crinkling his brow, Lord Tremayne shook his head.
She hazarded, “Why did I marry him?”
A relieved smile told her she’d hit upon it.
“I’ll answer them both. The man had some odd notions. Thought too much contemplation on any subject would bring on a fever—mayhap that’s why he was never sick? As to why I married him, my father and Mr. Hurwell were friends of long-standing—I gather he wasn’t always so boorish,” she confessed, shifting restlessly within her loose stays. “He’d asked me before, but I kept putting him off. When my father fell ill and urged me to accept, desperate to know I was taken care of, it seemed the most expedient way to secure his contentment before he passed.”
Those horizontal lines in Lord Tremayne’s forehead grew deeper. “Mo-ther?”
“My mama? She was a lovely and warm woman who perished when I was but eleven. From good, genteel stock, or so Papa told me. She’d been to finishing school and taught etiquette and how to trap—er, secure a rich and hopefully titled husband. Even a baronet would have sufficed, but she made the unpardonable sin of falling in love with a lowly shipping clerk, forever earning her family’s animosity. Disowned, she was. But that was before I was born.” Thea grew warm under his penetrating gaze.
“Was that a growl?” When he gave another, she stroked her fingertips down his neck. “Now I know that can’t be good for your throat. Truly, Lord Tremayne, my parents were wonderful and my marriage to Mr. Hurwell wasn’t horrid. Just horridly tedious,” she assured him. “I confess, though, I’m having loads more fun with you.”
He laughed at that. And gave her stays a pointed glance.
Given how he was completely bare-arsed by now, she really had no choice.
Wiggling her hips and pushing the stays down, she went back to her earlier topic, hoping the twaddle she kept spewing would cover any lingering nerves. After all, it wasn’t every
