Page 50 of Let Me Be Your Hero
“They’re really not so bad,” Izzie mused. “Other than their misguided response to the prospect of your grandfather attending the wedding.”
Archibald grunted. So, she had noticed that.
“What your parents need,” Izzie continued, “ismanaging.”
Archibald shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve tried. They’re impervious to management.”
Izzie drew herself up, affronted. “I see that you have forgotten to whom you are speaking. I am the daughter of Georgiana Astley. Being managing is mybirthright.”
Archibald chuckled. “You’re more than welcome to try.” Something occurred to him. “Does that mean you’ll be managing me, as well?”
She tapped her lip as if deep in thought. “Let’s see, over the course of our short acquaintance, you have rescued me from both Tristan Bassingthwaighte and an entire gang of kidnappers, then offered to build me my own library.” She looped her arms around his neck, smiling brightly. “You’re doing quite well on your own. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”
He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he raised his hands to her waist. “Good.”
“Speaking of which”—she twined her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck—“is itfinallytime to consummate this marriage?”
Without warning, Archibald scooped her into his arms. “Yes. It is.”
CHAPTER 24
Izzie squealed and tightened her grip on Archibald’s neck as he charged up the red-carpeted stairs with her in his arms. Not that she was complaining. She’d always dreamed of being carried up the stairs by a big, strong man, just like this. Besides, Archibald was going faster than she could possibly manage in skirts, and she was eager to reach their destination.
Izzie had been impatiently awaiting this moment for years. As Archibald bore her to their marriage bed, her toes curled in her slippers, becauseat last, she was going to find out what the fuss was all about.
Archibald carried her across the threshold of his bedroom, kissing her forehead as he deposited her gently on the bed. But instead of joining her on the plush mattress, he jogged back to the door.
“Archibald?” she asked, sitting up. “You’re not leaving?”
“No,” he said, pulling a key from his pocket and locking the door. Before she could blink, he was back across the room, pinning her to the mattress with his hips. “Most people know better than to interrupt a newlywed couple, but you’ve met my parents. They’re impervious to social cues. And my valet iseven worse. He knows certain things are unacceptable, but he couldn’t care less.”
He lowered his lips to her neck and pressed kisses against the sensitive skin of her throat. When he spoke, his voice was deep. “And this time,nothingis going to interrupt us.”
Izzie liked the sound of that. And, as her husband claimed her lips, she reflected upon how much she liked this new version of Archibald, Married Archibald. To be sure, she had liked the old Archibald, Determined-to-Do-the-Right-Thing Archibald, as well. It had been especially diverting, trying to tempt Determined-to-Do-the-Right-Thing Archibald into doing thewrongthing, such as touching her in a way he clearly wanted, but mistakenly believed was too forward.
But Married Archibald had no such compunctions. Married Archibald was undressing her with those marvelously big, warm, strong hands of his. And shelovedit!
“God, Izzie,” he murmured as her clavicle came into view. He lowered his lips there, muttering, “So beautiful,” between kisses.
She squirmed upon the bed, kicking off her slippers, and curled a stockinged foot around the back of his calf muscle. It was as big around as her head and flexed deliciously beneath her curious toes.
Izzie’s motion caused her thighs to fall wider open, which had the splendid effect of allowing the swollen ridge beneath the placket of his breeches to settle against her core.Thatreminded her of the delicious things he’d done to that particular part of her anatomy yesterday in her parents’ drawing room, and she circled her hips against him, forcing him to break off his kiss with a groan.
This also reminded her that things were not yet equal between them. While most of her body had been bared to his gaze at one time or another, she had yet to see anything below his waist, which seemed patently unfair.
She yanked at his beautiful blue jacket. There was the sound of a seam ripping, but Archibald did not appear to care. He tossed it to the floor in an inglorious heap, then busied himself shoving her dress down.
They tumbled around the bed, panting between kisses and clawing at one another’s garments until she was down to her shift, and he wore nothing but his breeches. Izzie reached eagerly for the buttons on his falls, behind which there was a familiar bulge, but Archibald clamped his hand around her wrist.
“Wait,” he said, breathing hard.
“Name six good reasons why I should,” Izzie countered. “I, for one, am extremely eager to see what you’ve been hiding under here.”
“Don’t want to… alarm you,” Archibald said through gritted teeth.
“Happily for you, I am not the easily alarmed sort.”
He released her wrist, and her curious fingers began tracing his shape through the fabric. More eager than ever, she began undoing his buttons with one hand while continuing to explore him with the other. His head lolled back, and he groaned.
