Page 110 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
She felt his lips on her forehead, and eyes, and hands. “Oh, Bink, Sergeant Gibson.” More laughter, peals of it, uncontrollable like her tears. “A whorehouse. You brought your wife to a whorehouse.”
“You are laughing and crying.”
“Yes.” She snorted.
He tightened his embrace. “It was the best I could think of. I’d hoped to sneak up the back stairs to an attic room, but it’s even better no one was here. The servants are used to keeping secrets, and Rowland is a good man in a fight.”
“Did you bring a clean neck cloth?”
His grin lit up his face. He unwound the loosely tied cloth and handed it to her.
She blew her nose and took a deep sniff of the cloth. It was damp, and the smell of his sweat made her yearn for him. She turned her lips to the thick cords of his now bare neck.
His back stiffened, and though her bottom bumped his hard arousal, she sensed his wariness. She was starting to know him. The maid would arrive soon. Plus, he was exhausted. She put a hand on his fall.
“Yes,” he said and tipped her back, nuzzling her neck and sending her into fresh giggles.
A knock on the door made him lift her.
“Don’t stop,” she said, “I’m sure they are used to it.”
“Come in.” He smacked a kiss on her forehead, set her on her feet, and went to the door, where he took the two steaming buckets of water from the scrawny maid.
He poured water into the basin, and the maid returned moments later with linens and a dress made of fine figured muslin.
“Thank you, Trish.” He pressed a coin into the maid’s hand. She mumbled a thanks and left without ever making eye contact with either of them.
Paulette stripped off her jacket. “You know her name.”
“Only through Lady Hackwell. She got Trish the position here.” He pulled out the hem of her shirt, yanked it over her head, and then went to work on her cloth bindings. “Let’s set these girls free, shall we?”
That bud of desire melted, oozing toward her middle.
“Betty won’t care about your breasts stretching your coat during dinner.”
“Or that dress she sent up? I spot a chemise but no stays. And I wonder if it will be cut quite as low as the one she was wearing.”
“Then we’ll stuff the cloth in the bodice to cover you. I won’t have another man ogling my wife.”
“Perhaps I should have stuffed some stays into my writing case.”
He grunted as the binding slipped away and turned her to face him. The band of gold in his eyes narrowed as he did his own ogling, and she felt that heat all the way to the spot between her legs.
“Thank goodness. They are unharmed.” His eyes lifted to hers. “Why is that lap desk so important to you?”
While his eyes held hers, his finger touched her breast and circled it. She closed her eyes and let the sensation wash through her.
“We have time before dinner, I think.”
“Why, love? Why the lap desk?”
She could almost not think. She was tired and hungry and so needy she felt she would burst. And it was not a secret. There were no secrets with him.
Well, almost no secrets. She hadn’t told him Jock’s stories of the treasure.
“Your father sent it to you,” he prompted.
Her eyes shot open. He remembered everything.
