Page 68 of Madcap with a Marquess
And he didn’t die.
That suffocating, choking force didn’t kill him.
He survived.
Because of Franny.
Odd that she was the reason he lost control, yet she was the only one who could bring him back once the panic overtook him. And she didn’t once judge him for it. No disdain. No reprimand. Just acceptance and support, faults and all. Faults—something he’d been taught to eliminate, never to accept.
But what a bloody fucking relief it was.
Rupert paused at a sealed letter from Derek. He grabbed his letter opener and went to slice through the letter when a pair of hands settled on his shoulders, delicate fingers spreading wide over the muscles there, muscles that immediately stiffened. The clatter of his opener across his desk echoed in the room. Small hands drifted lazily up and down his arms. His blood hummed, his heart—and other things—kicked up.
Breathe in, breathe out, Rupert.
There was one thing that hadn’t been addressed since the tack room. And that was Rupert’s inability to be gentle with his wife. He refused to bed her again until he found a way to temper his desires. After he learned of her father’s abuse? God, he was just as bad. Bruises from too-tight grips, she’d said. Like the ones he’d left on her.
Her small hands kneaded his taut shoulders, digging into the meat of his back. He wanted to melt into it. Give in to it. He knew Franny had enjoyed what they’d shared so far. Well, perhaps besides their wedding night—he grimaced—he’d quite literally rutted her like an angry bull. But there was no denying her enthusiastic participation, her body’s response, and the beautiful sounds she made. God, she was a dream. His fantasy.
But there were still parts of his fantasy she hadn’t truly witnessed yet. The parts that scared even him.You can be unapologetically you, Rupert. What would she say if he told her the truth? Of what he really wanted?
“How fairs your correspondence?”
Her soft words skimmed over his ear, and his eyes slid shut. She was leaning close to him. Too close. He knew because the heat of her was seeping into him. He inhaled slowly, methodically.
Mistake.
Lemon. Grass. Earth. Wild.
He nearly groaned. She made it impossible to stay in control.How did she manage to make a sentence with correspondence in it sound enticing? She might as well have said she was desperate for his cock with how eagerly it was jumping against the fall of his breeches in her direction.
He cleared his throat. “It is not the most riveting of tasks, but it must be done. Though…your touch is distracting. If you wouldn’t mind removing your hands from my person while I finish this up?” he said tightly.
Her hands disappeared in a flash.Rupert, you imbecile.He turned, catching her hand in his. Her back was ramrod straight, the stiffness extending all the way down her arm.
“I apologize for my curtness, Franny. I—”
She pulled her hand from his grasp and waved it dismissively, a strained smile curving her lips.
“It is quite all right.” Her expression cleared, her eyes brightening. “Oh! Is that a letter from Lord Dunmore? Is it regarding the foundling home?”
Rupert chuckled. How she could jump from one thing to the next in a blink… Lord, it was endearing. He sliced open the letter.
“I imagine something of the sort.”
His words faded away as he recalled his last letter to Derek. About Franny. Asking for advice on winning her back. Heat slapped his cheeks. He held the letter far in front of him like it was plague ridden.
Franny walked around the desk and plopped into the chair on the other side. She settled her elbows on the table and leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. Stared at him. Waggled her brows.
“Well, read it, then. Don’t just sit there.”
Rupert swallowed and carefully opened the letter. He kept his face expressionless, but a litany of curses ran through his brain the further and further he read. His friend listed numerous ways Rupert couldingratiatehimself with his lady. All of which were scandalous. Some of which were quite detailed. Every single one utterly tempting. But none of which Rupert trusted himself to try with Franny. Not if he wanted to avoid devolving into a brute.
Bloody hell. He had wanted help withwooinghis wife. And instead, he’d received a list of licentious activities. He could just picture Rafe hovering over Derek’s shoulder, laughing uproariously as the man composed the letter. Rupert was destined for torment the next time he saw his friends.
And these things—he tugged at his cravat, struggled to keep his breath even—these things only fed into his darker desires. Tie her up?God, yes.Slap her c—what?His eyes shot wide. Good Lord. People did that? His cock throbbed. Apparently, parts of him liked that idea. A lot. Why couldn’t he just want to have regular sex with his wife?
“Rupert…are you quite well? Your face is turning an alarming shade of red. Has Lord Dunmore written something to offend you?”
