Page 83 of To Pleasure a Prince
“Here’s the kitchen,” he was saying as he ushered her into a tidy little room about the size of the kitchen in most London town houses. “Are you hungry?”
Somehow she managed a smile. “After all that food I ate at our wedding breakfast? You must be joking.”
“Good.” His eyes gleamed as he took her in his arms. “I told the servants to leave a cold repast just in case, but I want something else for dinner.”
He kissed her, and since there were no servants nearby, his kiss was searingly blatant. Yet she could not relax in his arms. Sitting on his lap in the carriage had been one thing—she had known he could do nothing to her there. Perhaps shehadeven chosen her gown with that in the back of her mind.
But there was nothing to delay their union now.
When she felt his fingers untying her carriage gown, she jerked back, blushing. “What about the servants? What if they see us here in the kitchen—”
“I dismissed them for the night. They’ll return in the morning to take care of us, but I figured we could see to our own comfort on our wedding night.” He searched her face. “Still nervous?”
“Only a bit,” she said gamely, swallowing her anxiety.
With a decidedly dragonly smile, he took her arm. “Let’s go upstairs. I have just the thing to relax you.”
When he led her toward the stairs, her heart began to pound. The bedroom. They were going to the bedroom now. “Is it too late to eat that cold repast?”
His gaze burned down at her. “I tell you what. After I show you the surprise I have for you upstairs, if you still want to eat, we’ll come back down. All right?”
She lifted one eyebrow. “The surprise doesn’t have anything to do with…er…you know…”
He laughed. “No. Not directly, anyway.”
That roused her curiosity enough that she made no further protests as he led her upstairs and into a large bedchamber with a roaring fire. She gazed around, momentarily dazzled by the wall coverings of patterned red silk and the brilliant gold-and-scarlet-hued Oriental carpet.
And then she saw it. The most amazing harp she’d ever encountered. Keeping its nose in the air like a queen offended by its slightly vulgar surroundings, the heavy walnut instrument sat beside the Chinese Chippendale bed. “Ohh, Marcus,” she whispered, then added inanely, “it’s for me?”
“Of course it’s for you. Can you imagine me, with my oafish hands, playing it?”
Her delight spilled out of her in a long laugh, and she ran to examine it, feeling like a five-year-old at Christmas. The neck was ornately carved in the shape of a dragon with its long tail. Clearly the instrument had been built to order, although how he’d managed it in so short a time she could not imagine. She fingered the strings, smiling at the exquisite sound. He’d even had it tuned.
He came up behind her. “Do you like it? I confess to not knowing much about harps, but Louisa helped me instruct the fellow who made it—”
“It’s wonderful.” She turned to plant a kiss squarely on his mouth. “Absolutely wonderful! I love it!”
He tugged her back for another kiss so bold and hot it seared her clear to her toes. When he drew back, his eyes were gleaming. “Did you read the inscription?”
All her pleasure faltered. “T-The inscription?”
“On the harp. I had it inscribed especially for you.”
“I didn’t see it. But I’ll look at it later.” She flung her arms about his neck and lifted her mouth for another kiss. Given the choice between the marriage bed and revealing her defect to him right off, she would take the marriage bed any day.
But he pulled away. “No, I want you to read it. Come on.”
Her heart sank as he tugged her over to the harp and pointed to some words engraved on a little gold plate set into the sound box. “You see?”
She nodded and pretended to examine it. “Yes. It’s very nice.”
His smile faded. “Nice? You think it’snice?”
She kept nodding, frantically trying to guess what he might have written.
“Nice,” he repeated, a sudden bitterness in his tone. “Right. In other words, the less said about such a scandalous inscription the better.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
