Page 59 of The Viscount and the Vixen
His fatherdidn’trefrain from rollinghiseyes, did so with a great deal of exaggeration and obvious disappointment. “Courtship is just as important outside of the bed as in it—in some ways more so. I have failed miserably in educating you when it comes to women.”
“I am well educated in regard to women.”
“When it comes to their physical pleasure, I’ve no doubt. But a relationship requires more than that to flourish.”
Locke downed the remainder of his drink. He needed nothing to flourish. “You should join us for dinner.”
“You need time alone with your wife.”
“I have all night to enjoy her without company.”
“And you do enjoy her.”
No point in not admitting it. “More than I expected.”
“Then I shan’t interfere.”
“You wouldn’t be interfering. I suspect she’d welcome your presence.”
His father scratched his chin, the scrape of his fingers over bristle creating a soft grating sound. “Not tonight.”
“Perhaps we should hire a valet for you.”
His father shook his head. “Gilbert serves well enough. Shouldn’t you be with your wife now?”
“She’s preparing for the evening. But yes, I should be off.” He pushed himself away from the wall, headed for the door.
“Locke?”
He turned back.
“If you want to know more about her past, ask her. I suspect she’d welcome your interest.”
“I know all I need to know, Father. I was merely making conversation.”
“It’s an unwise man who lies to himself.”
Then he supposed he was going to go to his grave as an incredibly unwise man.
Chapter14
Three evenings later, after returning from a day at the mines, Locke was disappointed to find the door to the music room locked. He’d grown accustomed to finding his wife there, to having a few minutes to observe her before someone spotted him lurking in the doorway and gasped or shrieked in surprise. In spite of his assurances that no ghost was hovering about, it seemed some were still expecting the sudden appearance of a wraith.
He didn’t much like that he anticipated seeing Portia at the end of the day, that she had so quickly become an intricate part of his life. He awoke with her in his arms, and if he were fortunate enough to find the sun had yet to appear, then he began his morning with a rousing sexual encounter. She was the most enthusiastic partner he’d ever known—or perhaps it was simply that he took such satisfaction in pleasuring her. Her moans and cries inflamed his desires.
Even now, standing before the blasted locked door, he wanted her. But he wouldn’t take her, not until they dined. He was determined to maintain some control, to not let her see how desperately he wanted her naked and beneath him.
He pressed his ear to the door, listening intently to ensure she and the servants weren’t inside, hadn’t locked him out unintentionally—or intentionally, for that matter. He considered fetching the keys from Mrs.Barnaby in order to make certain that no one was within the room, but it was so quiet on the other side that it seemed highly unlikely that anyone was hidden away in there. So where was she? And why did it irritate the devil out of him that it had been half an hour since his bath and he had yet to see her?
He nearly pounded a fist on the damned door, was glad he hadn’t when he spun around to find her standing in the hallway, her head half-cocked as though she’d been studying him for a while.
She was already dressed for the evening in her blue gown with her hair piled up in that intriguing style that called for his fingers to muss it up. Now that she had her servants, she was no longer dependent upon him for her bath. He was not going to be jealous of a couple of footmen because they could see to her needs. They were lugging water, for God’s sake, not bringing her pleasure.
“Were you looking for me?” she asked, her smile one of immense satisfaction, as though she already knew the answer, which of course she did.
“It is almost night.”
“So it is.” She offered him a sultry look, half lowering her lashes. Damn it. He began silently uttering the refrainDinner first. Dinner first. Dinner first.
