Page 48 of The Truth About Dukes
Robert said a silent prayer that Constance would always discuss her daughter with him so casually, so trustingly. That she would discuss everything with him so easily. Nathaniel all too often tiptoed through a conversation for fear of upsetting the invalid.
A younger brother could have worse failings. Far worse.
“I guessed at your appetites,” Robert said, “and having sampled Monsieur’s efforts, I thought you might enjoy them al fresco.”
The luncheon bread was made from dough pressed flat and covered with chopped ham, cheese, and spices, then rolled up, baked, and sliced. Monsieur had been apprenticed to a cook in the army and had concocted that bread as a meal for men on the march.
Constance set aside the bread and crawled around the basket. “There’s something else I’d enjoy al fresco.” She kissed Robert’s cheek and remained near enough that he caught the scent of her soap—orange blossoms with notes of clove and cinnamon. Warm, sweet fragrances apparent only in intimate proximity.
“You are feeling frisky today, my lady.” And God help him, so was he. Robert was always aware of Constance as a woman, aware of her in ways he didn’t permit himself with any other female. He’d greeted her today prepared to be set aside as a bridegroom, and all that he’d lose if she cried off had been painfully clear.
Mostly, he would have lost her—lost her companionship, her lively mind, her humor, her energy. But he would have lost as well the hope of a degree of intimacy that went beyond bodily urges. He’d never experienced that blessing and longed desperately to share it with her.
Only with her, always with her.
“I am feeling more than frisky, Rothhaven,” she said, starting on the knot of his cravat. “If there’s something I need to know about an epileptic man’s intimate needs or limitations, tell me now before I become too…”
“Aroused?”
“Eager. Is a mathematical all your valet can manage?” She drew off his cravat and began on the buttons of his shirt.
“I don’t use a valet. The first footman tends to my clothing. I tend to me. To answer your question, I am unaware of any limitations on my ability to please a lover, at least as a function of my illness.”
“You aren’t just saying that?” She ran her fingers inside the collar of his open shirt. “I can handle disappointment, you know.”
“You are also adept at handlingme.” By virtue of a loose hug, he started undoing the hooks at the back of her dress. “Some believe that sexual congress or onanism invites seizures. My experience of the former is limited, but based on my exhaustive familiarity with the latter, I can confidently refute that theory.”
She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Even your naughty talk is ducal. We will be so happy.”
Because she believed that, he could believe it too. He could hope for happiness, not mere contentment, and even hope for joy. The magnitude of that gift, a future unlimited by infirmity or secrets, made his kisses luxurious, his hands cherishing.
“I seem to have misplaced my clothing,” Constance said, some minutes later. Her smile assured Robert the errant articles were not much missed.
“Shall you remove your shift?” Robert was down to his breeches and hoped to part with them momentarily.
“I leave that up to you,” she said, lying back on the blankets. “I have always loved the scent of plum blossoms, and now I will have precious memories to go with their fragrance. Thank you for that. I knew I could find a man willing to overlook my origins—I am the sister of a duke and my settlements are generous—but I never thought I could find a man who could accept…” Her smile faded as she reached for him.
“Not merely accept,” Robert said, coming down over her. “God spare us from the paltry consolation of mere acceptance. I love you, Constance Wentworth,madly, forever. Love you especially for who you were, and love you with equal devotion for who you always will be. You love with your whole heart, and with you I am helpless to do anything save follow your example.”
Constance loved Robert with her whole body too, wrapped her arms and legs around him, explored his every muscle and sinew. Her touch awakened him from a long, lonely sleep into a blazing rapture, and when he joined his body to hers, the pleasure nearly overcame him.
But not quite. He clung to the last shred of his self-restraint long enough to bring her with him into that place of transcendent joy. She matched him passion for passion, then demanded more, until he was wrung out, a man done in by glorious satisfaction.
“You are a wonderment.” He whispered that, probably incoherently, as he slipped from her body.
Some bright soul who was not the Duke of Rothhaven had thought to put her handkerchief on top of the wicker basket. Passing that handkerchief to Constance taxed the limit of Robert’s strength. He rolled to his back and Constance snuggled against his side, her contented sigh breezing across his shoulder.
She kissed his biceps. “We might have a large family.”
“Yes, love.” The notion of having children terrified Robert, for childbed was a dangerous place, but Constance was not afraid. She apparently wasn’t afraid that their children would have the falling sickness either, and for that Robert would have loved her even more, except he already loved her to the limit of his soul.
He opened his eyes to see a mosaic of pink blossoms against a perfectly blue, sunny sky, and all the beauty and peace that sky could hold flowed into him.Shehad done this, given him back the sun, the sky, and his own heart.
Whatever Constance needed of him, whatever he could do for her in return, he would do, and do joyously. He drifted off into the sweetest, most contented rest he’d ever known, while Constance slept at his side.
“How is Rothhaven’s steed coming along?” Quinn asked, swinging into the saddle. From long habit, he made a production out of straightening the horse’s mane, adjusting the reins, and otherwise averting his gaze while Stephen clambered onto a solid gray gelding.
“We’ll see,” Stephen said, sliding his canes into the scabbard on the right side of his saddle. “Revanche is a good fellow and he’s up to Rothhaven’s weight. So far, he’s been quick to grasp what’s expected of him, but this will be our first outing beyond the paddock. What have you learned of Neighbor Rothhaven since he made off with Constance’s common sense?”
