What a Lady Requires
Page 24
Closing the gap further, he ran his mouth along her neck, taking tiny nibbles that strode the line between tickling and pleasure and stole her breath. “I want to tour the Sparkmore estates with you and kiss you in every last private corner.”
He traced his tongue along the angle of her jaw in a way that made her think of even more private corners on her body. At the reminder of the previous night’s encounter, she shivered.
“I want our children to be every bit as clever as their mother.” A kiss, this time to the edge of her lower lip. “I want to take you to France and Italy and taste the wine straight from your body.” Another, where he drew her upper lip into his mouth. “I want to watch you grow rich from investing in that blasted railroad of yours and talk you into spending your profits on utter frivolities.” A longer, more lingering kiss. “I want to grow old with you at my side and know, at the end, that we’ve experienced the best life we could—together.”
“I hardly know what to say.” Indeed, she could barely find the breath to voice that reply.
A devious grin spreading across his face, he pulled back. “For once, I’ve managed to quell all your arguments.”
His smile was somehow catching. Emma felt it tugging at the corners of her mouth, even though her throat was tight. “I believe this concludes negotiations.”
“Not quite. I’ve one more thing to say.” He brought his hands up to frame her face with his fingers. “I don’t know when or how it happened, but I fell in love with your cleverness, your spectacles, your rigid adherence to the rules, even with those blasted books of yours. All of which is to say I fell in love with you, Emma. Might I one day hope you’ll feel the same?”
She closed her eyes. Witnessing such raw emotion was like staring into the sun. “Yes, this, all of this, is the Rowan Battencliffe I said I could love. The man I already do love.”
“Do you realize that, beyond our wedding vows, this is the first time you’ve ever said my name? I want to hear it often. In fact, I intend to use whatever means I can to drive it from you. I shall make you scream if I must. And now that we’ve reached an agreement, I believe we need to seal this pact with a kiss.”
He leaned in, but the moment before his lips met hers, he paused. “I’ve just recalled. We’ve one last point to clarify. Hard or soft?”
Emma suppressed a tiny sigh of frustration. “Both.”
“Then allow me to comply, but…” He glanced around, as if he’d only just remembered they were still in her father’s cramped office, and that Papa and Aunt Augusta might turn up at any time. “…let us carry on back at home. Because once I start kissing you, I do not intend to stop.”
On that point, Emma agreed wholeheartedly. After all, they still had the business of begetting an heir before them.
Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER
The Season was in full swing before Emma gave in to Aunt Augusta’s badgering that she host a dinner party. Emma made certain that the invitations went to guests of whom her aunt would most heartily not approve. Aunt Augusta was sure to be in fits for months—but then, Aunt Augusta herself hadn’t been included.
A movement caught Emma’s eye, and she paused in her instructions to Grundy regarding the serving of the wine. Her husband had made yet another journey to the window overlooking the street.
“There is no need for this show of nerves,” she said.
Rowan stopped short in the middle of the floor. “What gives you the idea I’m nervous?”
She allowed herself a moment to contemplate his form. His expertly tailored eveningwear set off his golden masculinity to perfection. “That swath you’re cutting in the Aubusson.”
He cast a glance behind him as though he expected to find a path forming beneath his feet. “Nonsense. I’m merely breaking in a new pair of shoes. I’ve no reason for nerves. Lindenhurst won’t show.”
She gathered her pale blue silk skirts and made her way over to lay a hand on his arm. “Cecelia answered the invitation. It would be beyond rude if they did not come.”
“That statement only proves how little you know Lind. He can be exceptionally rude when he wishes. He gets away with it, too. One of the advantages of his title.” His arm snaked out and pulled her into an embrace. He lowered his lips to her throat. “Have I told you how utterly delectable you look tonight?”
She permitted him a few liberties before ducking away. “It also wouldn’t do for me to greet my guests in a state of dishevelment.”
“Given that several of our expected guests have been married less than a year, I am positive they will understand. I will, however, bow to your sense of propriety and defer until later, when I remove that gown from your body.”
The utter promise in his gaze caused something warm and delightful to unfurl in the pit of her belly. If he sent her such heated glances the entire evening, she might just be the one tearing his clothes off later.
Grundy cleared his throat. “If you will excuse the interruption, some of your guests have arrived.”
Emma tore her attention away from Rowan. Henrietta Sanford preceded her husband into the parlor, Cecelia Lindenhurst following in their wake. Behind them, Lindenhurst himself loomed on the threshold.
Emma pasted a smile on her face and glided across the room to greet her guests. She clasped Henrietta’s gloved hands in hers, nodded to Sanford, but all the while her ears strained, listening for Rowan’s approach.
As if at an unvoiced order, they all stood to the side and let Lind pass. He made his ponderous way toward the decanter standing on the side table, the dull thump of his walking stick on the carpet loud in the silence. Rowan had preceded him to that spot. He already held a glass.
A curt nod, a long moment, and then Lind extended his hand.
Unsmiling, Rowan took it. “You came.”
“I did, and not because my wife badgered me into it.” At that Cecelia contemplated her folded hands. “It’s because I have something to say to you.”
Rowan reached for the decanter and poured a solid four fingers of brandy. “Have you read the journal?”
“I have, as much as I hated it. You did not take Lydia from me. I understand that now. Circumstances did that, and it’s nothing you or I can change.”
Without a word, Rowan set the glass in Lind’s grip.
Lind took a long swallow. “I felt like I was sitting at the whist table. You know, when you get a hand with no trumps, not even a low one. You can’t fault the dealer in that situation, not if everyone’s playing fairly. We were all sitting at the table, and got god-awful cards. You can’t do anything more than follow suit, pray the damage isn’t too bad, and hope for a better deal the next time.”
Rowan poured another glass, raising it toward Sanford in silent invitation. “I’d say we have better hands now.”
Sanford crossed the room to accept. “The best.”
Somehow Emma had ended up flanked by Henrietta and Cecelia, the three of them holding their breaths together. As one, they let out a great sigh.
Cecelia giggled. “And what of us? Do we get no libation?”
Emma nodded to the butler, and presently a footman entered bearing a tray of sherry.
“A toast,” Sanford said.
“To our wives,” Lind added, “without whom we regretfully would be less than what we are.”
Last of all, Rowan raised his glass. “To the future. And may it make up for the shortcomings of the past.”
A glow of contentment filled Emma to the brim. “I believe we can all drink to that.”
For Lizzie—for liking this one the best, and hey, after everything you’ve been through lately, you need a book just for you.
Acknowledgments
Dear readers,
The first acknowledgment belongs to you. Thank you so much for reading Rowan and Emma’s story. I hope you enjoyed it.
To find out what I have coming up next, please subscribe to my newsletter. A sign-up link, along with other social media links, is available on my webs
ite: ashlynmacnamara.net.
Want to help an author out? Reviews, both the positive and the negative, are one way a reader can get involved. Please consider taking a few minutes to post your thoughts on this book.
And now I hope you’ll bear with me while I send out a few thank-yous.
As always, to my wonderful agent, Sara Megibow, for being there and believing. To my amazing editor, Junessa Viloria, for the same.
To Caryl, Lizzie, Clemence, Carina, Matan, and Paula, thank you for putting up with my kvetching and for nagging me to keep going. And to Caryl, especially, for catching my typos and missing words.
To the Secret Curtsey Society and the Lalala Sisterhood for their moral support.
To my husband and daughters for putting up with the amount of time I spend living in my own little dreamworld.
Until next time!
Cheers!
Ashlyn Macnamara
xoxoxo
BY ASHLYN MACNAMARA
The Eton Boys Trilogy
What a Lady Craves
What a Lady Demands
What a Lady Requires
A Most Series
A Most Scandalous Proposal
A Most Devilish Rogue
PHOTO: NICOLE MORISCO
ASHLYN MACNAMARA is the author of What a Lady Requires, What a Lady Demands, What a Lady Craves, A Most Devilish Rogue, and A Most Scandalous Proposal. She lives in the wilds of suburbia outside of Montreal with her husband and two teenage daughters. When not writing, she looks for other excuses to neglect the housework, among them knitting, reading, and wasting time on the Internet in the guise of doing research.
ashlynmacnamara.net
Facebook.com/AuthorAshlynMacnamara
@ashlyn_mac
The Editor’s Corner
February is the month for romance, especially at Loveswept…because this month we have a little something for everyone.
Sure to please fans of erotic romance, Lea Griffith’s All or Nothing series returns to the deepest places of longing and obsession—don’t miss More. In Sidney Halston’s latest sizzling MMA romance, Below the Belt, a former title contender turns the tables on his knockout trainer with a lesson in seduction. New York Times bestselling author Tracy Wolff is back with another Ethan Frost novel, featuring the irresistible leading man from the New York Times bestsellers Ruined and Addicted in Exposed. USA Today bestselling author Sawyer Bennett hits the ice with the story of a playboy athlete whose winning ways lead him to a beautiful woman with a lot to lose. You don’t have to love hockey to enjoy Garrett, the next book in Sawyer’s Cold Fury Hockey series. Another of our Loveswept USA Today bestsellers, Mira Lyn Kelly, cranks up the heat for two lifelong friends whose most secret longings come true in every delectable way in Touch & Go. And later in the month, in Lavinia Kent’s luscious, erotic historical romance, a free spirit learns her true desires from a master of the heart, of the body—and of the sweetest discipline. Check out Bound by Bliss. Ashlyn Macnamara finishes up this month of romance with a blazing hot novel, What a Lady Requires, the story of mismatched newlyweds who discover a simmering connection.
Be our Valentine this month and every month—read Loveswept.
~Happy Romance!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
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