Page 50 of Miss Dramatic
This time of year, the Twid hadn’t any such depths. “I’m not going anywhere.” Yes, he was stuck in Crosspatch Corners, mired in family duty, and bound to social expectations, but at that moment, he was also exactly where he wanted to be. A paradox to ponder later.
Rose unknotted his cravat. “You will soon join me in this bed, if you please. I know exactly what allowing you to remain on your knees can lead to.”
“Pleasure, yours and mine, and then more pleasure.”
“Shocked sensibilities, unspeakable intimacies, me sprawled flat on my back and yet dizzy. You’ve haunted me, Gavin DeWitt.”
He rolled up her stockings and considered indulging in those same unspeakable intimacies, then set that option aside for a time when he could claim more patience and less uncertainty.
“The haunting was mutual, Rose Roberts. You visited a few unspeakable intimacies on me too.”
She scooted sideways and stood, giving him her back. “You can have no idea what a relief it was to be intimate with a man and have my expectations so wildly exceeded that I barely believed the experience was real.”
Gavin got to his feet and dealt with the hooks at the back of her dress. “Your wiles are considerable, Rose. If Dane couldn’t satisfy himself with you, he was a bungling idiot. You were never the problem.”
She turned and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you. You showed me the truth long ago, but the words are still comforting. I asked the midwife awkward questions, I read French novels, I tried medical treatises… Dane was convinced that if I’d only try harder, and stop nagging, and act more wifely…”
“Dane knew damned good and well he was at fault, and now you know it too.” Gavin did not want to discuss Dane the Dimwit, but if Rose needed to air the topic, he could at least listen. The poor sod had literally come to grief on the side of the road. He’d landed in a ditch he’d dug for himself, one filled with gin, brandy…and guilt.He’d willfully neglected and disrespected his wife and the home she’d made for him.
Gavin hadn’t intended to visit any hardship on his family when he’d left Crosspatch. Just the opposite. He’d meant to spare the ladies his restless, frustrated presence anddo somethingin pursuit of a dream.
Another point to consider some other time. He held Rose for the space of three slow breaths, an actor’s tool for settling the mind.
“I know Dane was to blame for at least part of the problem.” Rose kissed Gavin’s cheek and then wiggled free of her dress and jumps. “Thank you for that, and I will thank you as well to get out of those clothes.”
Subject changed, and none too soon.
She assisted him to undress. Playing minor roles, changing costumes a half-dozen times in a night, the assistance of a competent dresser was sometimes a necessity.
Rose was an exceedingly talentedun-dresser. She delivered little brushes and pats as she unbuttoned Gavin’s waistcoat. When she started on his shirt, she ran her fingers beneath his collar, pausing at his nape, an exquisite caress. The patience she brought to unfastening his falls nearly cost Gavin his composure, and when she extracted his rampant member from his underlinen, her touch was sweet torment.
She’d been a curious lover, intent on exploring him inch by inch.
He wasn’t up to such heroics at the moment. “If you start with your mouth, Rose, I will demand turnabout.”
She straightened, wrapping her fingers around his shaft. “I lack the fortitude for your sort of turnabout just now.”
“Thank the merciful powers.” He peeled out of his breeches and underlinen and tossed them on the otherwise neat pile of clothing Rose had created near the door. “To bed with us.”
He climbed onto the cushions first. Rose liked to be on the outside of any bed that abutted a wall, a preference doubtless based on all the times she’d left her husband snoring off his latest overindulgence.
Rose settled on the cushions and remained sitting while Gavin lay on his back. “The rain has stopped.”
“For now. We will have to make our own thunder and lightning.”
She eased down beside him, and Gavin rolled to his side, the better to behold his lover. They were good at making thunder and lightning, but as Rose scooted closer and hiked a leg over his hips, he realized a part of what was different about this time.
He’d wanted to impress her—before. He hadn’t been keeping score exactly, but he’d been keeping count, gloating a little every time she’d yielded to desire first, mentally strutting when she’d demanded a nap between rounds.
A fool, albeit a besotted fool.
Now, he wanted tomake lovewith her, not provide her with a mutually enjoyable performance. Thunder and lightning,and love.
She anchored a hand in his hair and urged him within kissing range.
“You could simply ask,” he said, brushing his lips over her brow. “‘Gavin, might you indulge me in a few of your exceedingly delightful kisses?’ ‘Gavin, have you some caresses to spare?’”
“Gavin, use that mouth for a better purpose than twitting my shyness. We don’t all enjoy your penchant for dialogue. I haven’t… That is, not since… One doesn’t find much opportunity in Hampshire for…”
