“Where did he come from?” she asked.
Leo met her concerned gaze. “It looks barely weaned. I would wager he belongs to the kitchen cat. Let us return him.”
She nodded, then rose to her feet. “May I?” She held her hands to take the furry bundle.
He handed her the kitten, then scratched its head before pivoting toward the house.
His wife spent the remainder of the walk cooing to the animal. When they reached the kitchen garden, he spotted a scullery maid picking herbs. “You there.”
The maid looked up, then dipped into a curtsy. “My lord.”
“We found this kitten stuck in a garden bush. I imagine it belongs to the kitchen cat. See it cared for.”
The maid nodded, then came forward.
“He had a thorn in his paw. We must clean the wound,” Lady Morton said.
“I’ll see to it at once, my lady.” The servant reached for the kitten.
Before she could take the furry bundle, Lady Morton turned away, moving it out of her reach. Her gaze went to Leo’s.
Lord, she was beautiful. Not in the traditional way, but stunning nonetheless. How had he missed it?
Releasing a breath, he pushed the thought from his mind. Holding her gaze, he asked, “Is there a problem?”
His wife shook her head. “No. Well…” She nibbled her lower lip. “I would like to care for Puff myself.”
“Puff?” Leo asked.
She nodded. “Yes, I named him Puff, and I want to see to his needs myself.”
He could not help but grin as he studied her. The protective way she now held the kitten, and the fact that she had so quickly named the creature, put a crack in his carefully crafted shield. It would seem his wife possessed a tender nature.
He glanced at the kitten, then back to Lady Morton. “Very well. If it pleases you to do so, you may.”
She smiled. “I will see you at dinner.”
“Until then,” Leo said. He turned and walked away, reluctant to admit that he was indeed looking forward to dining with her.
Chapter 5
Emeline sat at the far end of the dining table. She watched her husband across the vast divide as footman brought in the third course.
The space between them bothered her. She understood that they each had their place at, but it seemed ridiculous to sit so far apart, given that only the two of them were dining.
They could not talk to one another without raising their voices. Doing so would be most unbecoming, and thus, she had remained silent. But she wanted to share a conversation with him. That was the point of her insisting that they dine together.
Determination fortified her as she pinned him with her gaze. Emeline pushed out her chair and stood. She’d not allow society’s dictates to keep her from her goal.
From the opposite end of the table, her husband stood, too. “What are you doing?”
She strolled around the end of the table. “I am coming to sit beside you.”
“The countess sits at the foot of the table. That’s the way it’s done,” he argued.
“Rubbish.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It is not as if we are hosting guests.” She stopped at the chair to the left of him, then nodded to a footman.
The servant came forward and pulled out her chosen chair.
Emeline sat, then smiled up at her husband, hoping to appear innocent. “There now. This is exceedingly better.”
He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and retook his chair.
She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he would not argue with her further. “We could scarcely talk the way we were, and I very much wish to talk, my lord.”
He tipped his wineglass and drank. After setting it back on the table, he lifted his fork.
Evidently, he would not volunteer a topic. Still, Emeline would not be dissuaded. She stared at him until he met her gaze, then asked, “What shall I call you? ‘My lord’ hardly seems right, considering that you are my husband now. Surely we needn’t be so formal.”
“Morton will suit,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not in the least. We are married now. Wives do not call their husbands by a title.”
In truth, she wasn’t sure. Mother had called her father by his first name, and so, Emeline assumed that was the proper way of things. Perhaps she was wrong, but even so, she did not want to be so formal with the earl.
Frown lines creased the side of his mouth as he stared at her. The light of flickering candles reflected in his eyes, along with the flicker of something else. Some emotions she could not name. “Very well, then. You can call me Quinton.”
Quinton. She pondered the name. It could be his first name, but she would wager it to be his surname or that of another title he held. She sighed. “I would rather use your given name. I know the day will come when our son wishes to know it. Imagine how foolish I would look having to admit that I do not know my own husband’s name.”
He swallowed a bite of mutton. “Don’t you think it too intimate to address each other so informally?”
“Too intimate?” she repeated, half in question and half in disbelief. “I am your wife. Your countess. You plan to bed me this very night. I hardly think calling each other by name is more intimate than all that.” She took a fortifying gulp of her wine. “Your name, if you please.” This time, she more demanded than asked.
He blew out a breath, returning his gaze to her. “If you insist, you may call me Leonard, but only when we are alone.”
“It is my wish to do so, Leonard.” she tried the name out and found that she liked the way it rolled from her tongue, though it was a bit cumbersome. Perhaps she would call him Leo instead.
Would he object?
Maybe it would be best if she stuck to Leonard for now. She smiled. “It is an excellent name. Strong and bold like the man who carries it.”
He attempted to hide his grin behind his napkin, but she saw it despite his effort. At that moment, she likened him to a wounded beast. Not entirely unlike her new kitten, though, it would seem Leonard was more guarded.
She could not help but wonder why. Nor could she fight the rising urge to discover his reasons.
She would tame him. She’d made her mind up to do as much the moment she’d wed him. Her conviction had only grown in the hours since. His hesitance to answer her questions in the garden had piqued her curiosity. She wanted to learn his secrets. But this man possessed more than secrets. His tenderness with Puff had softened her heart. She suspected he was a man capable of great love.
Perhaps she was a fool, but she very much hoped to convert this marriage of convenience into one of tender regard.
She sat her wine down and searched out his attention. “And you will call me Emeline. No Lady Morton or ma’am.”
His eyes narrowed.
Her hand stilled, her fork hovering halfway between her plate and mouth. “It is nothing more than a name. No harm will come from using it.”
He nodded, then asked, “How does the kitten fare?”
“Puff is well. I put a salve on his paw and gave him some warm milk. He’s been sleeping in a basket since. The poor dear. He’s worn out from his ordeal.”
“I have every confidence he is in excellent hands,” Leonard said before turning his attention back to his meal.
Emeline’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. It would seem that her husband held a high opinion of her—leastwise when it came to tending injured animals.
Regardless, she would consider it a splendid start in earning his admiration.
She finished her mutton in silence, stealing glances at him now and again.
When the footmen began clearing the course, she turned to him again. “I have a surprise for you.”
His eyebrows arched, causing his forehead to wrinkle. “I would rather you not bother yourself—”
“There is no need to protest. It cost me nothing more than time. It is but a small thing, you’ll see. A trifle truly.” She looked at the footman across
from her and nodded.
A footman carried in a silver tray and set it before them on the table.
Emeline glanced from the crystal bowls laden with lemon cream to her husband. “I made it myself. A small gesture meant to bring you a smile.”
His jaw slackened, and his eyes widened, showing his genuine surprise. “No one has ever…” his voice trailed off as he looked back at the creamy dish. “That is…”
“I enjoyed every moment.” She beamed at him as she lifted one of the bowls and held it out. “Do have some.”
Chapter 6
Leo could scarcely help but be in awe over his wife’s gesture. Not only had the woman listened to what he’d said previously, but acted upon it.
And it was not just the lemon cream. Oh, no. He had to stay strong in the face of her sultry looks, warm smiles, and tender actions.
How could he keep his guard up in the face of such temptation?
He feared he could not.
His only defense would be to get her with child as quickly as possible. Once her belly was swelling, she would move into another of their homes, and he would be safe.
To that end, he downed the scotch in his tumbler, then quit the library.
He strode through the house with long confident steps, his determination mounting more with each fall of his boots. By the time he reached her chamber, he was more than ready to bed her.
He wasted no time knocking, but instead pushed her door wide and stepped inside.
Leo had every intention of taking her directly to the bed and stripping her bare. He’d not expected, never even considered, he’d find her laid out on the bed waiting for him.
She smiled, slow and sultry, her brown eyes warm with invitation.
She stretched out one of her legs, exposing more skin. “Good evening, Leonard.”
Her tone sent a shiver of passion straight to his groin. He reached the bed in three strides and sat on the mattress, bringing his hand to her ankle. “Good evening.”
She arched a brow and pursed her lips.
“Emeline,” he added as he skimmed his hand up her calf. Her flesh was warm and silken. He bent and trailed a line of kisses up the inside of her leg.
Bloody hell, his wife was luscious. Her silken skin and scandalous invitation drove him wild with desire.
She released a breathy sigh as he moved his hand up her thigh, drawing her nightrail further up her body.
He met her alluring gaze as he drew small circles on her exposed thigh. “You surprise me, wife.”
Rather than speak, she reached out and took hold of his cravat. “I believe you are overdressed.” She sat up, her fingers working on loosening the knot at his throat. “Allow me to help.”
Leo moved his fingers closer to the apex of her thighs as she unwound his cravat.
When she set to work on his jacket, he brought his lips to her throat.
Breathy moans sounded as he nipped and sucked at the tender flesh.
She gathered his shirt in her hands and pulled it from his breeches, her warm hands delving beneath the fabric to fan across his abdomen and chest.
Leo’s blood ignited, and his cock throbbed.
Bloody hell, how did she affect him so severely? If he did not take her soon, he would spill in his breeches like an inexperienced youth.
He pulled away, then stood. He removed his shirt before he unbuttoned the fall of his breeches.
Her eyes widened, then filled with desire as his cock sprang free. He stood there, allowing her to drink in the sight of him while he allowed himself a moment to gain some much-needed control.
Emeline removed her nightrail. Her gaze burned into his. “Fair is fair.”
“Fair indeed,” he more growled than spoke the words as he dove back into the bed.
He fastened his mouth over her rosy nipple, suckling as he moved his hand between her legs.
She tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned and arched beneath him.
His fingers found her curls and stroked through them to the core of her need. She was hot and wet for him. Her state of arousal pleased him greatly.
He wanted to plunge into her, to fill and stretch her. To claim her and satisfy his own need, but she was a virgin, and he’d not hurt her if he could avoid it.
He moved his mouth to her other nipple and stroked his finger over her moist folds. When her thighs fell open, he slipped his finger into the inviting heat.
“Oh. Ah…” She rocked against his hand. “More. I need…more.”
Her breathy sighs and pleading words made him desperate to taste her. Leo brought his mouth to the tiny pearl above her opening and suckled. The scent of her drove him to near madness.
“That’s the way, pet. Take what you need. Let yourself go,” he encouraged as he slid a second finger into her tight passage.
He stared at her as he pumped his fingers.
She pressed her head back against the pillows, her lips slightly parted as she cried with pleasure. A cascade of gold-streaked chestnut hair fanned out around her, and her smooth skin flushed pink with desire.
She was stunning. And all his.
Leo brought his tongue to the tiny bud and licked her essence as she bucked against him. Once, twice, three laps of his tongue, then he suckled as he stroked his fingers inside of her.
“Oh. Oh, Leo.” She pressed against him as she came undone. Her release washed over his fingers.
“Yes, pet?”
“That,” she drew in a breath, “was nice.”
“Nice?” He arched a brow.
She nodded. “Yes. Nice.”
He smirked as he positioned himself between her thighs. “Then I fear I did it wrong.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It was… I liked what you did.”
He stared into her smoldering eyes. “I shall endeavor to make you like the act of joining, too. There will be some pain, but I will do all I can to limit it. Please know that it is not my wish to hurt you.”
She nibbled her lower lip, then said, “I trust you.” She wrapped her legs around his hips. “And I want you deep inside of me.”
Devil take it, she was a temptress. So wanton and sweet. He positioned his cock at her entrance, then pushed in, slow and steady.
When she cringed, he paused, his arms shaking with the effort to remain still.
A heartbeat later, she brought her hands to his shoulders and arched, taking him deeper. Her gaze bore into his as she said, “I want this. I want to feel you.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. Leo pressed fully into her, filling her completely. This…his wife…being inside of her…was heaven.
He kissed at the flesh of her throat as he pulled out, then slid back into her. Slow, steady thrusts that pushed him closer to the edge.
“Oh, Leo.”
Her moans filled the chamber once more. She moved with him, her hips following his rhythm. Her cunny pulsed with release as he plowed into her again and again.
His orgasm tore through him, and his seed pumped into her.
After allowing himself a minute to recover, he slid his cock free and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
She reached out and feathered her hand down his back.
Lord, how he wanted to gather her close and hold her through the night. Instead, he stood and retrieved his clothing from the floor.
When he turned to look at her, his heart hitched.
She stared back at him, her gaze full of tenderness. “Won’t you stay?” She licked her lips. “At least for a while?”
He swallowed back a groan. “I cannot.”
She pushed up on her elbows. “You cannot, or you will not?”
“Both,” Leo said, then turned toward the door. “I’ll have a bath brought up.”
He could feel her gaze on him as he exited the room, but she did not speak.
A small blessing to be sure, for she’d already said too much.
Bloody hell, she’d said she trusted him!
What’s more, her acti
ons proved that she did. Emeline had opened herself to him without reserve. She’d given herself to him without objection, without maidenly fear.
She’d seduced him as much as he had her.
Maybe more so.
She had been sweet and soft and inviting. She’d called him Leo. Not Leonard, but Leo.
The woman had driven him mad with desire, then left him more satisfied than he could ever recall being before.
And she trusted him.
Devil take it, another fracture formed in the armor surrounding his heart.
Chapter 7
Emeline slid into the copper tub. Warm water wrapped around her and seeped into her sore muscles. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, a barrage of feelings and thoughts swirling through her.
Lovemaking had been marvelous.
The pain she’d worried about hadn’t been so bad, it was more of a discomfort truly, and it had passed quickly, leaving pure bliss in its wake.
Even now, her body bore the afterglow. She felt somehow lighter and a bit tingly. Her limbs were like pudding, and her heart joyous.
She could get used to sharing her bed with Leo. It would be easy to welcome her husband, easier still to fall in love with him.
Emeline hummed as she splashed warm, jasmine-scented water over her chest. He had been gentle and attentive and wicked in the most delectable ways.
But then he’d left.
A frown pulled at her lips.
She was no stranger to the feeling of abandonment, nor did she like it. Leo’s disregard put her in mind of him—the rogue from her past. Only this was not at all the same. Leo married her, where the rogue walked away.
She would not allow past hurts to weigh her down now. She had forgiven herself as well as the rogue. Emeline had moved on with her life. Still…
After what she and Leo had shared, it seemed wrong for him to make a hasty retreat. Shouldn’t they snuggle and talk? At the very least, shouldn’t they sleep side by side?
She may have been a virgin, but she was far from uneducated. She knew what happened when a man and a woman joined. She understood the biology of the act. And she knew lovers often shared more than their bodies.
A Lyon in her Bed: The Lyon's Den Page 3
