Page 71 of Entrancing the Earl
And in that moment, as he spilled his seed into her, Iona sensed his needs in the same way she understood her queen, sensed what he didn’t really understand himself—because he was a man and an Ives. She almost laughed into his broad shoulder. Instead, she kissed his salty skin anywhere she could reach.
He rolled over, removing his heavy weight. She curled against his side, fearing he’d hurt his shoulder. “I’ll be a very bad countess,” she whispered, not knowing if he heard. “But I’ll be the wife you need.”
His arm tightened around her, and they drifted off to sleep.
A kitten pouncing on their faces woke them in the early dawn.
Gerard growled and lifted the creature up in one hand. “Tell me I made a mistake gifting you with this creature, and it will go back to Phoebe by evening.”
Iona sat up and snatched the kitten from his hand. The sheet fell from her breasts, and her husband instantly took advantage. Cuddling the kitten, she lay back and covered herself again. “You did that on purpose.”
“Probably.” He eyed her with interest. His mussed hair and morning beard gave him a rakish look that had her heart thumping.
“What do we do now?” she whispered. “I had planned to run for Wystan before dawn.”
“It would be foolish to go to Wystan if you need to go to Balmoral. We’ll stay here until then. Do I need to take you into the city and buy you pretty gowns? Or maybe just pretty corsets?” He leered convincingly—giving her a lovely glimpse of the raw male behind his proper façade.
Remembering the golden nightgown he’d bought for her, she slid from the bed in search of it. The kitten insisted on exploring while she shimmied into the loveliest piece of lace-edged silk she’d ever known. “I should make this into an evening gown!” She caressed the sheer silkiness in wonder. “I’ve never owned anything like it.”
She held out the narrow skirt and spun around for him to admire.
Propped on one arm, Gerard regarded her dance with appreciation. “I would shower you with silk, if I could.”
Realizing she’d just cost him any chance at a wealthy wife, Iona plummeted off her foolish cloud. “I don’t need silk. Wystan needs a roof. Your library is far more important than clothes! I hope you did not waste too much on me.”
“It wasn’t a waste. I’m enjoying every minute of money well spent.” He rolled out of bed, drawing the sheet around his hips.
She could still see the bulge of his arousal, but it was what he didn’t say that caused her trepidation. He didn’t have the funds he needed to save Wystan—because of her. “If you’d married an heiress, you would be honeymooning in Italy, exploring your gift. You need to explore your gift as much as you need to put a roof on Wystan.”
Thatwas what she’d sensed last night. He still didn’t want to admit to his friends that he was a gifted Malcolm, but it was his only hope now.
“It is a useless gift.” He shrugged his still-bandaged shoulder. “Keeping Wystan’s library from the damp is more important than Italy. We’ll travel someday. It’s not as if I’m poor. We’ll always have a roof over our heads. You can have silks, if you like.” He advanced on her.
Iona stepped back. “Lowell is quite vocal about your refusal to improve your wardrobe. I won’t have you buying silk for me ifyouwon’t buy new clothes. You have given up far too much for me! I hope I know duty as well as you do. Wystan comes first.”
She darted behind the dressing screen. “Where is my trunk?”
“In the other room, where the kitten should be.” He peered around the screen, completely comfortable with their dishabille and obviously not fretting too much over their pennilessness. “Are you sure you would not like to take breakfast in bed?”
“I’ve never done anything so decadent. I should think it would cause a great deal of trouble.” She had no robe to cover the sheer silk. She’d never lounged about in leisure and didn’t know what to do with herself. She tested the water basin. It was chilly.
“You have much to learn about being a countess, my lady.” He leaned in and kissed her nose. “Do you even own a robe? I’d lend you mine, but then I’d have to order a tray while wearing a sheet. Hop back in bed and let us pretend we are in a mansion above the sunny coast, being pampered.”
Iona basked in that glorious thought, dodged out of the other side of the screen, and jumped back in bed, pulling the covers up. “Dinnae say that you haven’t dreamed of a drafty castle overlooking a loch with snow coming through the windows as your honeymoon.”
“All right, I won’t say it.” He pulled on a robe and yanked a rope.
In a short while, a parade of servants arrived bearing trays of tea and pastries, as well as their clothes and warm water—niceties she’d never experienced. Pulling a sheet up to her neck, Iona nervously allowed a tray to be set over her lap. Gerard merely gestured for his to be set on a dresser. He grabbed the kitten before it could butter its nose on toast and handed it to a departing maid.
“Find it—”
“Kingsley,” Iona informed him. “His name is Kingsley.”
“Please take the king out for nature’s call and find him something more appropriate to eat than toast.” He turned to the valet and maid puttering about with clothes. “Go find something to iron. I think we’ll figure out how to dress ourselves.”
“And shave?” Lowell asked, dourly eyeing his whiskers.
“A beard is just the thing. Go on or I may decide to crawl about the foundation like Max and come in covered in filth,” her lord and husband commanded.
