by Julia Quinn
“Of course, but I want the lot of you out of here tomorrow morning.” Alex dropped a kiss onto his mother’s cheek. “I’d like a bit of privacy with my new wife, if none of you mind.”
“Rest assured, we’ll all be gone by noontime,” Eugenia replied. “I assume that you don’t plan to emerge from the bridal chamber before then?”
Emma blushed to the roots of her hair.
“Absolutely not,” Alex said shamelessly. “Although I would appreciate it if you could arrange to have a meal sent up to us tomorrow.”
“Fear not, my dear son, I’ve taken care of everything.” Eugenia’s eyes misted over as she touched his cheek. “I’m very happy for you today.”
Alex and Emma smiled their good-byes to Eugenia and took off down the long hallway that led to the master suite. Emma nearly had to run to keep up with Alex’s long strides until finally, as he propelled her up the curving staircase, she had to stop and catch her breath. “Please,” she begged, laughing all the while. “Wait just a moment.”
Alex halted in his tracks and cupped her cheeks in his hands. His eyes were filled with a curious mix of total intensity and humor. “I can’t wait,” he said simply.
Emma let out a little yelp as Alex scooped her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to their room. “Alone at last,” he said dramatically, kicking the door shut so that he wouldn’t have to put her down. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”
“No.”
“Oh, good.” And by the time he was through, Emma was breathless and warm.
“Are you nervous?” Alex asked.
“No. I was this morning, but I’m not now.”
Alex’s eyes glowed as he took in the implications of that statement. Still, he didn’t want to rush her. They had all night—all week, actually. He took her hand and led her further into the chamber. “This is your new room,” he said, waving his hand at their surroundings.
Emma looked around. The decor was quite masculine.
“You can redecorate if you want,” Alex said. “Nothing too pink, I hope.”
Emma stifled a grin. “I think we can come up with something suitable.”
Alex caught her hand in his. “There is an adjoining room which is officially the duchess’s chamber, but I’d rather you spend more of your time in here.”
“Oh really?” Emma teased.
“We could turn it into a sitting room for you with all of the feminine fripperies you want,” Alex said earnestly. “But I don’t think there’ll be any need for the bed that is in there. I’m thinking of having it moved to Mrs. Goode’s quarters. She has been with us for many years, and I think it would be quite a treat for her. Much more comfortable than what she has now.”
“I think that would be a brilliant idea,” Emma said softly, stepping closer to him.
“Oh, Emma, I’m so glad that you’re finally mine.”
“And I am glad that you are mine.”
Alex laughed out loud. “Come a little closer so that we can finally get that gorgeous dress off of you, your grace.”
“My name is Emma,” she replied in a stern voice. “I don’t want to hear you calling me ‘your grace. ’”
“You are priceless, your grace.” Alex reached his arms around her and started to undo the tiny buttons that marched down the back of her wedding gown. He moved with agonizing slowness, sending hot desire down Emma’s spine with each touch.
A small moan tore from Emma’s lips as she placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. The entire room seemed to be spinning in a sensual haze, and it was all she could do to remain standing.
Alex’s hands stilled about halfway down her back. “Mmm, I think it’s time we let down your hair.” With deft fingers, he pulled out the pins that had been used to pile her thick tresses atop her head. “Although I do like these little wispy things that hang down when you do your hair this way.” A few moments later the entire mass came tumbling down, and Alex lifted a few of the soft locks to his face, kissing them first and then breathing in the heady scent.
“I adore your hair,” he murmured, running his ringers through it. “Have I ever told you that I want a little girl with hair this exact color?”
Wordlessly, Emma shook her head. They had never discussed children. She had assumed he wanted an heir—all men did—but she had never dreamed that she would want a little girl just like her. “I my self had been thinking about a little boy with black hair and green eyes,” she said hesitatingly.
Alex’s hands moved back to the buttons on her back. “Well, we’ll just have to keep on working on it until we both get our wish, won’t we?” This time Alex undid her buttons with great speed, and within seconds the dress fell to the floor, leaving Emma clad only in her thin, silky chemise.
He started to push the sheer garment from her shoulders, but Emma stopped him. “Shh. It’s my turn now.” She reached for his cravat and slowly pulled apart its intricate folds. And when she was done she moved to his crisp, white shirt, savoring each inch of flesh that was revealed as she undid each button. Alex could only withstand that sweet torture for a few moments, and with a groan, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the huge four-poster bed.
“Oh, God, you’re so beautiful,” he said reverently, touching the side of her cheek. “So beautiful.”
Emma abandoned herself to the passion of the moment, wrapping her arms eagerly around Alex as he came to join her on the bed. Even as he was ridding himself of his clothing, he couldn’t stop touching her, and the heat of his hands combined with the sensual rubbing of silk against skin was nearly enough to send her over the edge. She moaned his name over and over, barely aware that she was using her voice.
“Shhh, sweetheart, I’m here,” he murmured.
And he was, Emma assured herself. Every glorious naked inch of him was pressed up against her. But her chemise still lay in the way, and Emma tore at the offending garment, wanting nothing between her and her husband.
“Shhh,” he said again, stilling her hands. “I’ve grown rather fond of this thing.” Placing his hands on her silk-covered hips, he started to push the chemise up along her body, leaving twin trails of fire along her sides. As it slid upward to reveal her breasts, Alex let out a murmur of appreciation and slowly leaned down to kiss each dusky nipple. Emma squirmed with pleasure, grasping at the back of his head to keep him close to her. “Mmm, I remembered that you liked that,” Alex chuckled, marveling at her wondrously responsive nature.
“Alex, get this thing off of me,” she demanded hotly.
“Oh, all right,” he teased, finally pulling the chemise over her head and letting it drift down to the floor beside the bed.
Emma glanced up at him. He still seemed so self-composed. Didn’t he feel as crazy with passion as she did? With a devilish grin she leaned down and began to kiss his flat nipple the same way he had done to her. His reaction was instantaneous and more than Emma had hoped for. Bucking off the bed, he cried out, “Oh my God, Emma, where did you learn that?”
Emma moved back up to his mouth. “From you. Do you want to teach me anything else?”
“Maybe next week,” Alex growled. “I don’t think I could take much more of this tonight.”
She laughed with satisfaction as Alex leaned down to kiss her ardently. At that moment all of their joking and teasing ceased, and all that remained were two hungry bodies, straining for each other in desire and passion.
Emma couldn’t seem to touch enough of his skin. Her hands floated along his firmly muscled thighs up to his chest and over his shoulders. And each touch inflamed Alex’s passion until he could take no more. His hand stole down the length of her body to settle over the soft curls that protected her womanhood. Emma gasped with need, clutching at him, trying to draw him closer. Slowly Alex parted the folds of her most private skin and slipped a finger inside. She was more than ready for him.
“You’re so wet,” he said in a ragged voice. “So wet and so hot and so ready for me.”
> “Please Alex,” Emma begged.
Alex positioned himself over her, sliding just the tip of his manhood inside. It was torture not to plunge the full length of himself into her sweet warmth, but he knew that her body was still unused to his, and he wanted to give her time to adjust to his size.
But Emma would have none of that. “Oh, Alex, please. I need more,” she moaned, grasping at his hips, trying to draw him closer.
He could not resist her pleading, and with a rough cry he drove forward, fully sheathing himself within her. His breathing laborious, he strove to maintain an even rhythm as he pulsed forward and back, stroking her intimately.
Emma spiralled to heaven. She fought against release, wanting to prolong the perfection of the moment, but still she felt herself supping toward that shattering sense of freedom that only Alex could give her. She knew her battle was lost when he slipped his hand between their bodies and touched her intimately. And then, just moments before she knew she must explode, a cry was torn from her throat.
“Oh, God, Alex, I love you so much!”
He froze. “What did you say?” he asked hoarsely.
Emma felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a steep precipice. She needed him to keep moving. “Please Alex. Please don’t leave me hanging here.”
“What did you say?” he repeated, every muscle taut.
Violet eyes met green in a soul-baring caress. “I love you.”
Alex held her gaze for another moment before plunging forward again, this time with a new sense of urgency. The last thrust was all that Emma needed, and she felt herself lose her hold on reality. Bucking off the bed with the strength of her release, she screamed his name as her world erupted into a passionate prism of light. The sweet clenching of Emma’s muscles around him shattered Alex’s last vestiges of restraint, and he let out a harsh cry of triumph as he exploded within her.
Many minutes later, when they were lying entwined in the delicious haze of spent passion, Alex sighed deeply, burying his face in the soft curve of Emma’s neck. “I was afraid I would never hear those words,” he said quietly.
Emma sank her fingers in his thick, dark hair and tousled it. “I am still afraid I might never hear them.”
Alex drew back and cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Emma Elizabeth Dunster Ridgely,” he said solemnly. “I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul. I love you like I never dreamed it was possible to love a woman. I love you like—”
“Stop!” Emma cried out, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Why, darling?”
“I’m too happy,” she said in a choked voice.
“You can never be too happy. In fact, I intend to devote the rest of my life to ensuring that each day you live is happier than the one before it.”
“I don’t think that will be very difficult as long as you remain by my side.”
Alex smiled. “As if I would ever leave.”
“Good!” Emma said saucily.
“As if you would let me,” he teased. “My fierce American duchess. You’d probably come after me with a shotgun.”
Emma sat up and swatted him with a pillow. “Beast!” Laughing merrily, she let him wrestle her back down to the bed. “Besides, I don’t even know how to use a shotgun,” she said, catching her breath.
“What? My tree-climbing, fishing rod-toting duchess can’t fire a shotgun? I’m disappointed.”
“Well, I am better than average with a pistol.”
Alex leaned down to kiss her. “That’s more like it.”
“Alex?”
“Hmm?”
“We don’t have to go back to town anytime soon, do we?”
“No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“I think I’m developing a fondness for Westonbirt.”
Alex pouted. “For Westonbirt or for me?”
“For you, you big baby. But I never get to see you in London. Everyone puts such demands on your time. Do you think we could just stay here for a while?”
Alex cuddled his wife against his chest, treasuring the newfound love that shone in his heart. “I think that could be arranged.”
Chapter 22
The next few weeks of Emma’s life were among the happiest she had ever known. She floated through the days in a blissful haze, wearing the indestructible smile of a woman who loves and is loved in return. Her life with Alex developed into a rather comfortable routine. They had all of their meals together—although many had to be brought up to their room on a tray. They went for a ride every afternoon, taking a different route each time, and Westonbirt was large enough that after three weeks Emma still hadn’t seen all of the estate. Every evening after supper, they lounged in their new sitting room, reading or playing chess, or simply enjoying each other’s company.
And their nights, of course, were not reserved just for sleeping.
Emma soon learned to make good use of the time she didn’t spend with Alex. He had quite a few business ventures that required his attention, and he often spent time in his study going over important letters and documents. Also, there were four other estates besides Westonbirt that required careful management, and Alex didn’t like to leave all the details to overseers. His tenants deserved more than an absentee landlord, and he had books and books of notes in which he tried to keep track of their progress and needs.
So while Alex was busy with all of his work, Emma set about the job of getting to know her new home. Her first venture was to have the bed in the duchess’s bedroom hauled away. A quick trip to London to visit her family and shop for furniture resulted in her new sitting room getting redecorated in record time. Then she busied herself with learning about the management of the ancestral Ashbourne home. After getting acquainted with all of the servants, she spent a little extra time with the higher ones, asking them questions about the running of the household. Her meetings were doubly successful, for in addition to learning more about the inner workings of Westonbirt, she developed a sense of trust with the servants. They truly appreciated her interest in their welfare and were flattered that she bothered to ask them for advice about her new role as mistress of Westonbirt.
But one could only spend so much time redecorating and interviewing servants, and soon Emma found that she had little to do. The efficient staff ran the household like clockwork, and very little intervention was required on her part. So one morning, about three weeks into her marriage, she took the initiative and knocked on Alex’s study door.
“Come in.”
Emma poked her head in the doorway. “Am I bothering you?”
Alex put the papers he’d been reading down on the desk. “No, not at all. Is it time for dinner yet?”
Emma shook her head.
Alex glanced out the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Shall we have Mrs. Goode prepare us a picnic?”
“That would be lovely, thank you, but actually I just thought I’d pop in and see how you were doing. What are those papers you’re reading?”
Alex raised his eyebrows at her unexpected interest. “They pertain to an interest I have in a sugar plantation in the Caribbean.”
“Oh. May I look at them?”
“Certainly.” He held them out to her. “But I don’t think you’ll find them very interesting. Besides, they’re in French.”
Emma picked up the papers and scanned them. Her French was not as good as Alex’s, but it was good enough to get the general idea of the letters from the plantation manager. A bad season had resulted in a poor crop. Alex probably would not see a return on his investment for another year. She handed the papers back to him. “That’s too bad,” she said.
“I underestimated your French.”
Emma smiled. “They do teach us a thing or two in the Colonies.”
“In the United States,” Alex corrected.
“Touche. I’ve been in England too long.”
Alex rose and wrapped his arms around her, dropping a chaste kiss on her nose. “Yes, well, you’re English now
.”
She sighed contentedly, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. “Alex?” she said against his chest.
“Hmmm?”
“I’ve been thinking. I’ve spent the last three weeks getting to know all of the servants and learning how to manage the household, but now that I’ve done all that there really isn’t much for me to do.”
Alex tipped her face up to his. “Don’t I keep you busy?” he asked in a husky voice.
Emma blushed. Their passion still embarrassed her a little when he discussed it in the light of day. “You keep my nights busy. And my meals. And our daily ride, of course. But I really don’t have anything to do while you’re in here working.”
“I see. Well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t take over the bookkeeping for the household. After all, you handled that for your father’s company. I’m sure you are up to the task. Norwood has been doing it for years, but I don’t think he enjoys it very much. He much prefers being a stuffy old butler.”
Emma brightened considerably. “That would be lovely, Alex. I’ll go seek him out right away.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll have Mrs. Goode see to that picnic basket. Why don’t we meet in the great hall at one o’clock?”
At Alex’s nod, she exited the study and went off in search of Norwood. She found him in a small dining parlor, inspecting some silver that had been recently polished by a newly hired maid. “Oh Norwood!” she called out to the top of his balding head from the next room.
He straightened immediately. “Yes, your grace?”
“I plan to take over the bookkeeping for the household accounts. His grace has indicated to me that you don’t really enjoy doing it, and I must admit, I rather like working with numbers.”
“Yes, your grace. And pardon me for being so forward, but I must offer you my thanks. My eyes are not quite what they used to be, and all those small numbers are a bit of a strain.”
Emma offered him a sunny smile. “Then everything has worked out perfectly! And you needn’t beg my pardon. I wasn’t raised here in England and am not accustomed to so much formality. You shouldn’t feel the least hesitation about approaching me if there is some sort of problem.”
