Page 68 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“The Lady of Dubious Quality,” he answered with a facility that said he was familiar with Sarah’s pen name, which nearly made her smile again.
So, her husband enjoyed reading about sex. About the sex thatshedescribed. The irony wasn’t lost on her—or her body.
“They’re good,” Sarah said. “Healthy. And, I think we’ve seen, they benefit both of us.”
His face reddened, yet he said, “They did benefit us, didn’t they?”
“The people down in the taproom surely heard how much I profited from your reading those books. I’m surprised we didn’t break the bed.”
He looked abashed, but also proud. “We can try again.”
“In the morning.” A yawn burst from her. “Now I can barely keep conscious—I blame my husband.”
“And I thank my wife.” He leaned forward and kissed her.
“What’s on page one fifty-four?” she asked after they broke apart some time later.
He grinned wickedly. “You’ll find out.” He slid between the covers and gathered her close. “Fortunately, the Lady of Dubious Quality is prolific. We have a whole library to try out for ourselves.”
He kissed her once more, and they lay back together. In a short while, he’d fallen asleep, his breathing deep and even. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t drift off. She’d become a bride only yesterday. Soon she’d start her new life as a vicar’s wife. Every moment filled with new understandings. The sort she’d only expected to write about. She had been two disparate parts, never fully united. A writer who’d never truly lived. But now she’d experienced those understandings for herself.
Tonight had been the most incredible of her life—thanks to Jeremy. And herself. The Lady of Dubious Quality.
Chapter 20
The city had strangely lost its savor, though every pleasure known to mankind could be found there. My days were aimless as I drifted hither and yon. I stood beneath the shadow of my favorite statue—Eros riding a porpoise—but could not feel joy . . .
The Highwayman’s Seduction
“Over there,” Jeremy said, pointing out the window of the carriage. “That oak tree is where the girls gather every summer solstice to see which men they’re going to marry.”
Sarah peered at the oak in question. “How do they do that?”
“They write the name of the man they fancy on a leaf, then set the leaf on the nearby stream. If the leaf makes it to the millpond, then they’ll marry. If it runs aground or sinks, then they won’t.”
Sitting back, Sarah nodded. She looked a little tired around the eyes—but then, neither of them had slept much last night. And they certainly hadn’t this morning, when she’d woken him with her mouth on his neckand her hand on his . . . Well, it had taken them at least an hour to get out of bed. By the time they’d made it down to the taproom for breakfast, they had been greeted by the other patrons with knowing smiles and winks.
Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed. Not when he had a wife with a boundless sensual appetite. No longer did he dream of the Golden Woman. Sarah fulfilled his desires, his fantasies. She seemed to enjoy and desire lovemaking as much as he. Women weren’t given their proper due when it came to sexual desires—as though they didn’t have any, or merely endured men’s touches. But that couldn’t be the case. He had the Lady of Dubious Quality to reinforce this belief. And Sarah proved it. He was very, very lucky to have wedded her.
She was bold, open, curious. Almost indefatigable. And not afraid to ask for—or even demand—what she wanted.
Now she looked at him through slightly weary eyes, her mouth full and swollen from kisses. “A venerable ancient tradition,” she remarked, referring back to his comments about the summer solstice rites.
“It may be the modern era,” Jeremy said, taking her hand, “but in many ways, Rosemead hasn’t changed much for several hundred years.”
“I can’t wait to be part of your home.”
God, but he wanted her again. And again. He’d never tire of her. How could he? She was everything he’d ever wanted. More.
Thank good fortune for the Lady of Dubious Quality and her books. She gave him so much informationabout making love to Sarah. And bless whatever stars he was born under that Sarah hadn’t been put off by his admission that he read those books. She’d seemed surprised, but not horrified, as likely many other young women might have been. In truth, she’d been remarkably accepting. Just as she’d been when looking at the Oriental art.
His father wouldn’t allow him to put off his search for the Lady of Dubious Quality forever. Yet Jeremy found himself even less inclined to discover her identity now that she’d helped him so immeasurably.
But his father wouldn’t be gainsaid. The earl had a will of iron. Once he set himself on a path, nothing could divert him. Not even his youngest son’s recent marriage.
Sooner or later, Jeremy would have to resume his hunt. Now that he was married, he needed the income from his allowance more than ever. She had her own inheritance, but masculine pride smarted slightly at the thought of being entirely dependent on her fortune.
He and Sarah continued to look out the window, and he called attention to various landmarks they passed on their way to the vicarage.
