She wore an expectant smile on her face. “Do you notice anything different?”
Paul saw only her, not their surroundings. He blinked. “You cut your hair.”
“Yes, but—”
“Why?” he asked.
She tried to smooth the curls near her cheeks. “You don’t like it?”
Paul stilled her hands. “You look beautiful, love.”
His fingers tunneled through the silky curls framing her face, bringing his lips to hers. He pulled back and smiled. “I knew something was different this morning, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.”
She returned his smile. “But what of the room, husband?”
He arched a brow in question and looked about. “The room?”
She nodded. He sensed her excitement and thought to tease her.
“You moved some furniture,” he said. “It looks pleasant enough.”
She gave an unladylike snort. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide as he chuckled deeply.
“It looks very nice, Michelle,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “Though I admit I don’t pay much notice to our surroundings when you’re in the room.”
“Oh, Paul.” She laughed.
Paul stroked her back, feeling the tension he’d carried all morning finally begin to ease. Lord, she felt good in his arms. Michelle settled against him, letting out a sigh.
“What are you thinking, wife?”
“I’m thinking it’s quite pleasant sitting here with you.”
Paul was thinking of the passion they’d shared in the parlor a few days earlier. Michelle’s eyes widened when he flashed her a wicked grin.
“Paul, what are you…?” She gasped. “Paul, we can’t.”
He gave a slow nod. He stood, pulling her gently to her feet. Michelle picked up her skirts, bound for the open doors, but he got there before her. He closed the doors and leaned against them, his gaze roaming over her.
She backed way from him. “Paul, you ripped the front of my dress the last time, and I won’t let you to ruin this one.”
He stepped away from the door and stood very close to her.
“Paul,” she whispered. “Why don’t we go upstairs?”
“Ah, Michelle,” he sighed. “I can’t wait that long.”
She looked up, her eyes reflecting the heat in his as he began to lift the hem of her skirt.
Afterward Michelle sagged against him, her legs still wrapped around his waist. Paul leaned against the wall, holding up the two of them. He kissed her nose, her brow, as he waited for his breathing to slow.
“Ah, wife,” he rasped. “That was incredible.”
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Thank you, husband,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For not ripping my dress.”
He threw his head back and laughed, hugging her tightly. “Is it any wonder I love you?”
Chapter 17
They managed to disentangle themselves and straighten their clothing. Smoothing her hair, Michelle rang for tea. Paul watched her as she arranged herself on the settee. She looked delectable. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from kisses.
Starks brought in the tray. If the servant noticed anything amiss, he gave no indication. Good man. The butler placed the tea service, accompanied by a dish of biscuits, on the table and left them alone. He did, however, close the doors behind him on the way out of the parlor.
Paul chuckled and turned back to his wife. Her eyes were opened wide, her mouth an O. He knew precisely what was on her mind. “What is it, love?”
“Paul,” she began. “Y-you don’t think Starks heard us, do you?”
“Oh, certainly not,” he lied.
She breathed a sigh of relief and poured out the tea. He hid his grin and helped himself to tea and a few biscuits.
She lifted her tea cup to her lips. “Paul, some documents came for you today.”
He stiffened. “Did Starks tell you that?”
“No,” she said. “I took them from the messenger myself.”
He set his cup down and raked his fingers through his hair. “I take it you left them in my study?” he said, trying to keep his tone light.
“Yes. What are they?”
“I told you before. I was looking over some papers for a friend.”
“But surely you can’t have the time to review such things.”
“What I do with my time is my business,” he said, his tone sharper than he’d intended.
She placed her cup on the tray and stared at him. “You don’t have to get angry with me, Paul. I simply thought if this person is politically-minded, then surely he can see to these matters himself.”
He took a short breath. “What, precisely, do you mean by ‘politically-minded’?”
Michelle looked down and ran her hands over the folds of her skirt. “I admit I glanced at the folders and—”
“You looked at the folders?” He came to his feet. “Which folders?”
She winced. “The folders in the parcel.”
Paul fisted his hands at his side. “Why, you intrusive, meddlesome little—”
Michelle stood, glaring up at him. “I won’t have you speak to me that way.”
“You had no right to look into things that don’t concern you.”
“I may have glanced at the papers, Paul,” she said, her voice shaking. “But that is no reason for you to treat me like… like…”
He’d never seen her at a loss for words and it cut him. He reached for her. “Michelle—”
She pulled out of his grasp and ran from the room. He stared after her, his mouth agape. He knew why he was so mad—he feared she’d find out about his work. She had no idea, though. God, he’d reacted without thinking. She hadn’t gone through his desk, only the parcel that arrived that day.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he went into his study and poured himself a brandy. If he didn’t do something to calm his nerves, he was liable to lash out at her again. He loved her too much to lose her over some silly papers. Damn his father’s odd behavior and his own need to write the bloody speeches!
* * * *
Michelle ran up to their chamber and paced, fuming. How could Paul be so tender one moment and so hateful the next? True, she shouldn’t have looked in the envelope. But his reaction seemed excessive, even given their past quarrels. He’d been as angry as when they’d discussed her dowry.
Michelle rang for Betsy and ordered a bath. She felt less than fresh from their hurried lovemaking, but that wasn’t her sole reason for the bath. The water would soothe her nerves. And if she didn’t calm herself down she’d never get through an entire evening in her husband’s company.
The tub ready, she sank into the steaming water and tried to put the afternoon’s argument out of her mind.
“Paul had better do something to cool his ire,” she grumbled to herself.
When Michelle joined Paul in the dining room, she felt more relaxed. She wore a dress of deep burgundy, the color somber and suited to her mood. She watched Paul’s eyes as he ran them over her, reading desire and guilt in them. Good.
“Michelle,” he said gruffly, “I… I wish to apologize for my behavior this afternoon.”
She kept her eyes downcast as she sat. “I had no right to look through your things.”
“Yes, but—”
Michelle looked up at him then. “You see, I’m an intrusive, meddlesome little creature and couldn’t help myself.”
Paul couldn’t hide his smile. She caught his amusement and looked away, her chin held high.
“I truly am sorry, love,” he said.
She rang for dinner. Neither one of them mentioned their heated words again though the subject hung in the air.
After dinner, they adjourned to the parlor. Paul poured himself a brandy while Michelle sipped from her cup of tea. “Would you like to play a game of cards, Michelle?”
“If you feel up to the challenge, Paul,” she said, setting
her cup down. She stood and crossed to the little table set between the two windows and opened the drawer in it. Extracting a deck of cards from within, she turned back to him. “Beggar My Neighbor?”
“Capital idea. Fast paced with plenty of opportunity for confrontation.”
Paul was right. In the game the players split the deck and took turns flipping over their top cards. The loser of each match had to give cards over to the winner. The object was, of course, to be the one left with the entire deck.
“Goodness knows we never have much opportunity for confrontation.”
Michelle sat down on the settee and Paul pulled over one of the side tables. She placed the cards on the table and gave him half the deck.
“And what do I get if I win all the cards, wife?”
“Are you feeling overconfident, husband? All right. Winner’s choice.”
He nodded as they began the game. They took turns flipping over their cards one at a time. After the first hand, Michelle won all the cards on the table, much to Paul’s chagrin. Play continued for well over an hour as the two of them grew more at ease with each other. On the last hand, Paul raised his fist with a whoop of triumph.
Michelle eyed her husband. He held all the cards in his hand. And a glint in his eye, she noticed. A tingle tickled its way down her spine.
“I have all the cards, love,” he said, his voice a low purr.
“And?” She tried to slow her racing pulse. “What is it you want?”
His lost his grin. He studied her for a long moment, a question in his eyes. She knew what he was asking. Could she put aside their argument, his harsh words? She licked her lips. Finally, she nodded. Leaving the cards in a pile on the floor, he grabbed her hand. They raced from the room, barely making it up to their chamber before tearing off each other’s clothes.
Later, after their passion was satisfied, Michelle lay with her head resting on Paul’s chest. He breathed deeply in his sleep, a small smile on his handsome face. She sighed and cuddled closer.
She thought about their explosive release, there in the chamber. He’d taken her twice, loving her with his hands and mouth until she’d shattered into a million pieces. Her mind went further back to the intense argument of that afternoon. She’d learn what those documents were about. No matter what Paul said, they were husband and wife and should have no secrets between them.
She awoke the next morning to an intriguing tickle against her cheek. When the culprit—Paul’s finger, perhaps?—traced over her lips she stirred and her eyes fluttered open.
“Paul,” she said sleepily, a smile curving her lips.
“Good morning, wife,” he said softly.
He shifted in the bed and stretched out on top of her, his weight supported by his elbows. “I need to hear it, Michelle.” He cupped her face in his hands and stared down at her. “I need you to say you forgive me for yesterday.”
Michelle dragged her gaze from his. He brought his lips to hers and kissed her gently. She returned his kiss as she wriggled beneath him, reminding her that nothing lay between their bodies. He groaned in response, and she could feel him grow hard against her belly.
“Tell me, love,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.
“Paul, I…”
“Your body has forgiven me.” He trailed kisses over her throat, her breasts. “Last night proved that.”
She whimpered as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. He closed his mouth over the hardened nub.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I forgive you.”
He pulled his head up. “I’ll try to keep my temper with you, Michelle.”
“Not bloody likely,” she muttered.
He laughed deep in his throat. They spent the early morning hours pleasuring each other and took a very late breakfast.
* * * *
Lords Chester and Roberts called upon them shortly before lunchtime. Michelle invited the gentlemen to stay to luncheon, an invitation they happily accepted. Afterwards, Paul and his friends retired to his study.
Paul had his father’s ledgers sent over, though Mr. Graves voiced his objections before complying. Paul worried over the entries while Chester and Roberts discussed ways to learn where the money had gone.
“Leed,” Roberts began, “I know this isn’t something that would occur to you, but is it possible your father has a mistress?”
Paul looked up from the ledgers. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Chester shook his head. “If your father was keeping company with a woman, surely the twins would know about it.”
“True,” Roberts allowed.
Silence fell over the room once more as the gentlemen considered the possibilities. Roberts suddenly started, drawing Paul’s notice.
“What?” Paul asked.
“Your father doesn’t attend the bashes,” Robert said.
“And?” Chester prodded when Roberts didn’t continue.
Roberts wore a sly grin. “Where does he go?”
“You don’t think he could be meeting a woman?” Chester asked, his brows arched in surprise. “Someone outside his social circle?”
“It’s possible,” Paul said. “My father isn’t elderly, and still passable in looks.”
“We need to find out where he’s going, Leed,” Roberts said.
“We don’t know that he goes anywhere, Roberts,” Chester argued. “Leed, whenever we drop by to escort your sisters, he’s usually dressed comfortably.”
“As if he were planning a quiet evening at home,” Paul said.
“Yes,” Chester said. “What are you getting at?”
“He’s obviously spending his money, Chester,” Paul said. “Why not at night when my sisters are out?”
Chester’s eyes grew round. “You don’t think he brings in a…a…?”
“I think no such thing,” Paul said with mild irritation. “I’m saying perhaps he goes out as soon as the twins leave.”
Roberts rubbed his chin. “But where?”
Paul shrugged.
“Leed,” Chester began, “I know it’s unpleasant, but I think we should follow your father for a while.”
“It’s unavoidable, I fear.” Paul blew out a breath. “If my father would be truthful about this past year, it wouldn’t be necessary.”
The three gentlemen fell silent.
“We have your permission, then?” Roberts finally asked.
“Certainly,” Paul said. “And my confidence.”
His friends nodded their thanks.
“And if there is a woman involved?” Roberts asked. “What then?”
Paul suddenly grinned. “That’s when we’ll rely on your expertise, Roberts.”
“Me?” Roberts started. “But what of Chester?”
Chester’s burst of laughter quieted Roberts. “I daresay Leed doesn’t possess the same faith in my abilities to charm the answers out of the fairer sex as he does yours, Roberts.”
“Yes,” Paul said. “If there’s a woman involved, Roberts, I can’t think of anyone more suited to get to the truth.”
Roberts smiled in response. Chester and Roberts stood then.
“We’ll see you at this evening’s round of parties, Leed,” Chester said.
“Yes.” Paul saw them to the door, surprised to find Michelle standing in the foyer. She started and turned, focusing her attention on rearranging some flowers in the vase on the hall table. He quickly noted several petals and leaves littered the smooth surface of the table.
“Do you need something, love?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” she answered, flustered. “It’s just you and your friends were in your study for so long, and… These flowers are lovely, aren’t they?”
Paul shook his head at her, certain she was curious about what they discussed. Though he wouldn’t share the problems with his own funds and his father’s, the look of interest on her face caused his grin to widen.
“Lady Michelle,” Roberts bowed to her. “I trust we’ll see you this evening?”
“This evening?” she asked, turning to her husband.
“Yes, wife,” Paul put in. “At the bashes.”
“Oh, yes,” she nodded, turning once more to the vase.
Chester and Roberts bade the couple farewell and took their leave.
Paul closed the door and hugged Michelle from behind. “I believe those flowers have taken enough of a beating, love.”
“What? Oh!” she said, suddenly seeing the mess she was making. She turned in his arms. “I admit, husband, I grew tired of waiting for you.”
He kissed her lightly. “Why don’t we go into the parlor for some tea?”
She quirked a half-smile at him. “Oh no, Paul,” she said with mock-severity. “The parlor has become a dangerous place of late.”
He let her lead him into the front sitting room.
“My compliments on the changes you’ve wrought in this room, Michelle.”
“Thank you.”
He plopped himself down on the silver-gray chaise and looked up at her. “I especially like this piece, wife.” He bounced a bit. “Seems quite sturdy.”
She caught his meaning and clicked her tongue. “Never mind. I’d like there to be at least one room in this house where I’m not reminded of our…our…”
“Coupling?” he provided with a wide grin.
Michelle’s mouth gaped open. “That’s not what I was going to say!”
Paul grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit beside him. “We’re married, Michelle. There is no cause to be ashamed of our passion.”
“Oh, I’m not ashamed.”
Relieved, he hugged her gently to him. She pressed against him, a soft purring sound coming from the back of her throat. Stirrings of desire tickled him, the passion that flared so quickly amazed him. He simply had to get her out of the room or he’d take her right there on the sturdy gray chaise. He dropped a chaste kiss on her brow and stood, taking her with him. She looked up at him in mild surprise.
“Tea, love,” he answered her unasked question.
“Just tea, husband,” she said. He shrugged and she swatted his arm. “The dining room?”
He shook his head.
“Paul, what are you thinking?”
He bent his head to hers. “I’m thinking you would find the table most uncomfortable.”
Pride and Fire Page 14
