Page 62 of Seductive Reprise
Chapter Twenty-One
As he ran thefingertips of one hand lightly along her back, not wanting to leave the bed just yet, he marveled at how it had all come to pass. Mere months ago, he’d never have believed he’d ever set eyes on her again, let alone have her in his bed. He had long written her off as a love lost, obtaining whatever paintings of hers he could get his hands on as his sole, cold comfort. How deeply he had felt each one, staring at them every evening, memorizing the brushstrokes and imagining her at work, her brow furrowed in that charming way she had, as if she were puzzling out the mysteries of the universe rather than laying paint to canvas.
And now she was with him. His lover. His heart contracted at the thought, and he leaned forward to kiss her exposed shoulder.
It wasn’t enough, though. No, if tonight had shown him anything, it was that he was certain of her, more than he’d ever been certain of anything before—and Yusef didn’t reach the heights he had in business without being certain of a great many things. He would never rest until she accepted him, and not just for one night. Forever, to stay.
As his wife.
But, as sure as he was that Rose was the only one for him, he was less sure that he could make it come to pass. Apprehension snaked through him. He shut his eyes, not wanting to entertain the notion that he could fail. Not now, after all these years. He’d failed at very few things in his life, usually due to factors outside his control. Failure in this, though, he would not be able to accept.
But Rose was who she was. As wild and vivacious as an unbroken filly, and as stubborn too. She’d never yield, would sooner die of the chill in winter without a farthing for coal, rather than accept his hand and fortune. Unless…
Unless she loved him.
He pulled her against him with fervor, kissing her neck as if in prayer: that she, too, felt as strongly as he did. That she could accept the finer, easier life he could offer.
She shifted underneath his arm, releasing a muffled sound of contentment.
“Comfortable?” he asked, forcing a serene tone even as his anxiety overtook him.
“Oh my goodness,” she purred, rolling over onto her back, making a show of stretching out. “I never imagined… just howdivineit would be, a bed like this.” She sighed contentedly, with a coy grin that exposed the darling little gap between her teeth. “It’s certainly no straw mattress.”
Yusef reached out for a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. A curious lump formed in his throat, and he looked back to her.
“Remind me to never take a room at The Bit and Bridle then.”
She chuckled at that, rolling back to him to place a happy kiss upon his cheek. An immense wave of feeling knocked him over.
“It’s really not all that bad, you know.”
“Oh? Pray tell, what amenities does it boast? For I’ve never been invited inside, if you’ll recall.”
“Well, let’s see… excellent stables, for one thing. Even now, we still do a decent business, years after most inns have closed. I’d always supposed it was because there’s been an inn there forever, right off the Icknield Way. The rooms are spacious and well kept. And we have fabulous cheese and onion pies, now you’ve had those before—don’t pull a face, it’s true! I packed them one day that winter and you devoured them. Oh! And no rats; we had an excellent mouser of a tabby.”
“His name?”
“Hername is Daffodil. Or, it was.” She wrinkled her nose. “I… I haven’t been home in ages.”
He could have commiserated, and told her of his long-time absence from Cheshire as well, but then he’d have to speak of his family. So instead he merely asked, “Why not?”
She sat up, resting her chin upon her bent knees, thinking. The sheet had slipped down, exposing her lovely back, dotted with constellations of freckles.
“I can hardly bear the guilt,” she finally said, her voice low and husky. “I had been sending him a portion of my earnings.” She swallowed, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “But then… well, you know.”
The mood in the room shifted suddenly, the ghosts of previous arguments returning to loom over their shoulders, waiting.
Thankfully, a small rap at the door broke the tension.
“Mann,” Yusef explained to Rose. “He’s discreet. Extraordinarily so.”
“I’d rather not,” she said, shyness settling over her as she pulled the sheet back up.
He nodded. “One moment,” he called out, then got out of bed to fetch his dressing gown. Once garbed, he stepped outside the door and took the tray.
Mann stared at the tray in Yusef’s hands, not knowing how to react to this unusual behavior. “But sir, the tea—shall I not prepare the—”
“Don’t concern yourself with that,” Yusef instructed firmly.
