Page 63 of Miss Delectable
Orion gently deposited the cat on the hassock nearer the fire, took Ann’s hand, and pressed a kiss to her wrist. “Je te désire.”
Not quiteI want you. Closer to,I yearn for you. “I should lock the door.”
“No, you should not.”
* * *
That Ann was also facinga campaign of undeserved ill will drove Rye nearly to shouting, except that if he marched over to the Coventry and beat some respect into Delacourt, the result would be more danger and hardship for Ann.
Rye might consult Jeanette, however, or even have a word with Sycamore Dorning. At present, considering strategy that far ahead was beyond him. Ann had removed her slippers and drawn her feet up under her shawl. He adored that she’d be so informal with him, but the sight of her stocking-clad toes peeking out from beneath the fringe of her shawl stole his wits.
Now she offered to lock the door, and Rye had to think.
“This is a parlor, Annie, and while I will cheerfully enjoy whatever liberties you grant me wherever you grant them, might another location serve us better?” He ran his thumb over the smooth skin of her wrist, feeling the pulsebeat of her life’s blood.
He could pleasure her on the sofa, in a chair, or against the damned wall, but if it was pleasure she wanted from him, then a bed would be ideal. Besides, he wanted to see her bedroom, to know the scent of the sachets she hung from her bedposts, to learn what tales she read before bed.
Tales of Hollandaise sauce andbœuf à la Bourguignonne,perhaps, or maybe she treated herself to novels of adventure and far-off lands.
“You want to come upstairs with me?”
“I most assuredly do, but only if you want that too.” How shy they had both become. Rye marshalled his courage and laced his fingers with hers. “I want to take you to bed, Annie, to make sweet, passionate love with you, to lie spent, amazed, and grateful in your arms. I think of you when I ought to be attending to my ledgers and correspondence. I lie awake…”
She was watching his mouth, and that threatened Rye’s dwindling store of self-restraint.
She rose and settled in his lap. “You lie awake?”
How good and right she felt in his arms, how precious. “I lie awake, and Iache, Annie Pearson. I ache and enjoy the ache, which is surely the sign of a man who has lost his wits if not his heart.”
Ann sighed, her breath a soft breeze against his cheek. “My bedroom is to the left at the top of the stairs.”
Rye let the joy of that announcement sink in, then rose with Ann in his arms. “Top of the stairs, to the left,” he muttered.
She looped an arm around his neck and managed the door latches. As Rye traversed the house, he wondered if this was how a bridegroom felt, carrying his true love across symbolic and literal thresholds.
Hopeful, nervous, proud, andaroused.
He sat Ann on a comfy four-poster bed and stood before her, pleased to find the room warm. “You kept the fire going?”
She leaned her forehead against his middle. “I hoped you would call.”
If she’d kept her bedroom warm, she’d hoped he’d do more than call. She’d hoped for more than a quick tup in the parlor, too, and she deserved more than that. Rye’s nervousness abated, replaced by a sense that he was exactly where he was meant to be and exactly who Ann wanted to be with.
“Will you valet me?” he asked, though he hadn’t needed assistance undressing since he’d been breeched. He made the request because he suspected Ann would be less nervous if her hands were occupied.
She hopped off the bed. “Of course. Your eye patch first. You have lovely eyes, and I want to see them both.”
He passed her his eye patch, feeling oddly exposed by that simple gesture. She’d seen him without it before, but this was different.
“I need a moment to adjust after I’ve taken it off,” he said. “What next?”
By slow degrees, she peeled him out of his clothing, sniffing each garment before folding it neatly. “You greeted your horse this morning.”
“Our new lad, Victor, has taken over the stable duties, and the work wants regular inspection. I also like to look in on my mounts. The older of the two was with me on campaign. He likes apples.”
Inane thing to say in the midst of a seduction, but Rye was down to his boots and breeches, and Ann was studying his arm.
“You described your injury as being mostly to your hip and ribs, with some damage to the eye and your hearing. You suffered more than that, Orion.” She ran her fingers over the scars on his arm, then over the scars on his ribs.
