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 Lie back on the bed. Just here at the edge. He ran his hands down her taut thighs to her knees
and grabbed her feet.  Put these in the air.
 I am definitely beyond the pale here, she murmured, her gaze rolling to the ceiling in
mock criticism of her fully exposed position.
 I adore this view of you. The flower petals of your sex are so swollen and pink. You drip
with nectar, inviting my honey bee to pierce you. Like this.
She let out a whoosh of air as he entered her, seated himself fully and held.
 Quite a sting, she managed.
He held her ankles as he began to pump her.  Quite a luscious flower.
 Adam. She caught her breath and between clenched teeth, managed to say,  Dearest,
now. Would. Be. Good.
She pulsed all around him, squeezing his cock to the point where his discipline flew away
and he came in a long hot stream that had him growling.
Caught in his own euphoria as he felt his own joy wash over him, he realized he still held
her feet in the air. If he had adored the look on her face as she slept, if he had admired her beauty
as she met him in ecstasy before, the expression on her face now was unmatched. Every contour,
every line of her visage was relaxed in a rapture that rocked his reason and tripled his pride. He
had thought never to find a woman here in England who could match him for sensual awareness.
Yet, here, in this childhood friend, a woman whom he had married for convenience, was the
most eager, stunning partner he had ever imagined.
He lowered her legs, caressed her thighs, her pussy and her breasts then lifted her by the
arms onto the fullness of the bed. He lay down beside her and cradled her to him. He pushed her
soft curls from her cheeks. Her brilliant eyes opened, and she considered him with languid ease.
He would dare to call her look one that cherished him.
 Thank you, he told her.  That was the finest experience of my life. Each time, I do enjoy
you, he whispered as he placed a kiss to each eye,  thoroughly.
 And I, you, she whispered as she brushed her fingertips over his lips.  Is it always like
that?
 With you, I think it will be.
 Does that mean you want me to stay? she asked, searching his gaze.
 Will you? Please?
 What of the curse?
 Whether you stay or not, the curse may well fall down upon us.
 What could happen? You could hate me for being a wanton woman?
 Or you could reject me for being such a lecherous husband.
Her lips toyed with a grin.  I will take both.
 As will I, he told her sincerely.  Dare I conclude that each of us sees more potential here
than what we find in this bed?
She met his gaze frankly.  I thought there was hope for that all along. I would not have
married you otherwise, Adam.
 I ll brave the curse, if you will.
She threw her arms around his shoulders.  I need that bath and breakfast.
He felt the brush of her breasts against his torso.  Perhaps once more before we bathe?
Chapter Seven
But making love in a tub and being hand fed by one s husband does not make for a meal
that compensates totally for hours of exuberant love making.
Driven by hunger, Felice braved the dining room, dressed in her ball gown. Adam had just
pulled out her chair for her when his butler appeared to inform him he had a caller. Though it
was unusual to have a visitor before eleven, this gentleman, declared the butler, requested a few
minutes of Adam s time and awaited his host in the sitting room. When Adam asked the identity
of the man, the butler told him Lord Ulmsly.
 I shan t be long, Adam told her as he bent and brushed a kiss to her lips.  I d tell you to
wait for me, but the fact that Ulmsly is here at this abominable hour is truly astonishing. Enjoy
yourself, darling, and I promise to return as soon as possible.
 Hurry, she told him.  We must talk about how I am to leave here without letting half of
London know I spent the night. We don t want any more rumors about us.
 Right you are.
As he turned on his heel, she tucked into a generous helping of coddled eggs, toast with
marmalade, bacon and a Scottish banger. Stuffed, she poured herself a third cup of tea then rose
to look out the window. Wondering why Ulmsly might have come calling on Adam, she realized
with a start that this was Friday morning. And on each Friday, the Tell-Tale was published.
She closed her eyes and counted backwards. Yes. The story that featured a man similar to
Adam had appeared today in its fourth installment.
She winced. In this one, her Lord S. took a mistress again, after living for weeks alone
without his new wife. This was untrue of Adam of course, believing as she did his statement that
he d broken off his arrangement with his paramour. But her tormentor had demanded she give
Lord S. loose morals. Clearly, Felice needed to end this story. End the series. Fulfill the hideous
terms of her agreement with Adam s foe. Seven installments. All meant to ruin him politically.
She d only agreed because she had needed the money to pay off her mortgage on the cottage in
Kent, a debt that Wallace had incurred at dice. But weeks later, married to Adam, she had not
needed her little house any longer. She had offered it for sale. How could she have known things
could turn so quickly in her favor?
Not in your favor if you don t stop these stories!
She could not have predicted this reunion and definitely not this bliss with Adam. She
must not ruin it. But how to end the series without causing more trouble? Howell promised to
print a story about her indebtedness and claim they were her gambling debts. Not Wallace s. The
honorable member for Parliament from Bayton, Mr. Stanhope, was trying so hard to be reputable
that he would not welcome any intimation that his new wife was a gambler. That was a piece of
fiction through and through.
She clutched her stomach. What if Ulmsly knows that I am Miss Proper? If he tells Adam,
I am doomed.
The breakfast room door creaked open.
She spun. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]