Chapter Thirty-Eight

A lex thought Clarity was bloody marvelous. Even if his aunt's feelings were hurt, he was proud of his wife. She could have continued to let Aunt Elizabeth handle everything. Lord knew it would have been easier on her! Instead, she was standing up for herself.

"I came to ask how the party plans are progressing," he said into the tense atmosphere. He hadn't really come for that at all, but it seemed to be the topic of the moment.

To his dismay, his question made Clarity appear crestfallen.

"The plans have not progressed at all," she admitted.

They all knew why. Did she think he would find fault with her?

Quite the opposite, although he knew better than to step in or get involved with the two women. Anything he said or did regarding his aunt's interference would make his wife seem weak, as if she needed someone to fight her battles.

And it was obvious she did not.

But he could set Aunt Elizabeth straight about one thing.

"I believe I heard you make mention of my sister-in-law," he said to his aunt. "While Lady Purity has a passing physical resemblance to my wife, that's where the similarities end. She would never have suited me, nor could I have loved her."

Clarity's sweet face lit like sunshine, and he moved to her side.

"My wife brings me the happiness I've lacked for too long, along with the grace and capability to be my perfect hostess and life's mate. And she does it without a whiff of pretension or stuffy propriety. Truly, she is uniquely perfect for me."

He faced her as if his aunt weren't there and took both Clarity's hands in his.

"Have I thanked you for being such utter perfection?"

"Alex," she admonished softly, blushing like an English rose at its peak.

"I mean it, dear wife, and I don't mind if Aunt Elizabeth knows how I feel about you. You are a ray of sunlight in my life, and I thank you."

For some reason, his aunt gasped audibly.

They both turned to her.

"Oddly, I can recall your father saying those very same words to your mother. She was his ray of sunlight," his aunt declared. "How remarkable!"

Alex was speechless. His aunt had never mentioned any of the tender moments between his parents before that moment.

"Thank you for telling me." He could well imagine his father loving his mother as much as he loved Clarity.

"I will leave you two ladies to finish talking." But he didn't really want to release Clarity.

"I believe we had concluded our discussion," his aunt said.

"Had you?" Alex asked his wife.

"I think Aunt Elizabeth and I know where we stand."

They watched the older woman stride out of the room, and Alex hoped they'd put their differences aside.

"Before you go," she began.

"I wasn't going anywhere," he said, holding her more tightly. "I didn't actually come looking for you to discuss the party."

"Why did you?"

"I just read the afternoon paper," he said, barely able to withhold the glee from his tone.

"Tell me," she demanded.

"The parents of Miss Emmeline Brambury are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter to Lord Murray." He could hardly say it all without laughing.

She frowned. "Why is that tickling your funny bone, husband?"

"Murray is renowned for his interest, nay his obsession with fowl. He has a massive fowl-house designed and built by Bedborough and Jenner, the same man who built one for Queen Victoria at Windsor. A Gothic monstrosity, all for his chickens ," he finished and started to laugh.

"Chickens!" Clarity exclaimed with hilarity, delighted by the story as he knew she would be. They laughed a long moment, picturing Emmeline surrounded by eggs and feathers.

And then his wife said smugly, "I told you Mrs. Boswell had a gift."

"I already knew it," he agreed.

She sighed, relaxing in his embrace again. "While we are both here, there is something I need to discuss. I need a place."

"A place?" Alex repeated. For a sickening second, he imagined she wanted to live separately from him.

"Yes, a place of my own with a sitting area, where I can entertain my close friends as well as my mother and sisters, and room for a writing desk, too."

Whatever she wanted, he would make it a reality in order never to lose her again.

"Do you wish me to remove Aunt Elizabeth from her sitting room? That really should be yours."

Clarity tilted her head, looking up at him. "I thought about it, but no. I would like the bed from my room stored in the attic, and then, if you allow, I shall purchase a new sofa and chairs and desk, turning my bedroom into a sanctuary."

"I love the idea," he said.

"Really? I didn't expect such enthusiasm over my creating a private salon."

"It's not that," he confessed. "But I'm delighted you won't have anywhere else to sleep apart from our bed. Even if we argue, we'll be forced to retire together and work out our differences."

"Even if we argue," she agreed.

He hoped they didn't, but if they did, he wanted her beside him, preferably naked, so he could offer his apology and coax her forgiveness by making love to her.

His loins tightened, and his arousal sprang up at the thought.

"God, I miss tupping you," he told her, watching her pretty mouth turn to an "O" before she smiled.

Then he kissed her, immediately sliding his tongue into her warm, wet mouth, feeling her tremble in his arms.

After a long ravishing kiss, he said, "Let's go look at your room and see how best it can be arranged."

"You mean before the bed is taken away?" She knew him well.

"Naturally."

They had become practiced at pleasuring one another to reach a thrashing, shuddering release without him entering her.

Yet instead of complying as he'd hoped, Clarity said, "Tonight."

"Why wait?" he asked, stroking down her back to her pert bottom.

She shook her head.

"I believe I have eked out a small victory, and I intend to talk to the staff, each and every one, to complete my conquest of this house."

"You sound combative, like a soldier freshly returned from the Peninsula."

That made her laugh, and he enjoyed the feeling of her full breasts bouncing against him and her round bottom jiggling in his hands.

"I am determined not to let my triumph slip away," she promised, and then she pushed at his chest. "Unhand me, husband."

He did with a sigh. "I will return to my lonely study."

"Don't stare at me with sad eyes, Lord Hollidge. Soon enough, it will be nightfall, and we shall be stretched out upon our soft sheets again."

With that, she took her leave to hunt down her quarry, in the servants' quarters if she had to. He wished the Hollidge staff good luck.

Without the least hiccup or the smallest faux pas, Clarity's party to welcome Master Thomas Ashley, the next Viscount Hollidge, was concluded. Sparkling wine, good food, the musicians she had hired and paid for — all were met with appreciation by the large gathering.

Alex's aunt might not have approved of all her choices, but she had not interfered in the least, except to ask for Major Grover to be added to the roster. Clarity's parents and siblings came as honored guests, and she was exceedingly pleased to see them enjoying the evening.

"You are a fine hostess," her mother declared when they were putting on their mantles and overcoats, the last to leave.

"Thank you," Clarity said, hugging each of her family members before they went out the door. The following day, she would visit with them to find out what Purity and her mother really thought and if anything could be improved upon.

Meanwhile, Alex took her hand and headed for the stairs. They'd waited the optimum amount of time and had decided that night they would finally resume marital relations.

Feeling thrilled by her party's success and full of mischievous energy, halfway up the staircase, she yawned loudly.

"I am exhausted," she declared. "I am certain I shall sleep as soon as my head rests upon my pillow."

She felt Alex falter before finishing their ascent, keeping his light grip upon her hand.

"Then I will tuck you in and cuddle you until the morning," he promised. "Unless Thomas needs you before then."

Saying nothing else, holding in her mirth at her husband's noticeable disappointment yet willingness to sacrifice his pleasure, she led him into their bed chamber. The hearth was warm with glowing coals, the curtains were pulled across the window, and two lamps were lit, casting a cheeriness around the large room.

"Shall I ring for your maid?" Alex asked, looking at her complicated coiffure and reaching for the bell-pull.

"No," she stayed his hand. "I am sure I can manage."

"As you wish." He went into his dressing room where his valet had helped him look his best before the party. As was his wont, he undressed himself. After all, it was far easier to destroy a perfectly tied cravat than to create the effect in the first place.

As quickly as she could, Clarity took off her satin evening gown and her stays before taking a seat at the end of their bed. Feeling positively wicked wearing only her jewelry, her chemise, and stockings, she waited with her pulse beginning to race.

In a minute, he was back, wearing his dressing gown.

"I think all the pins in my hair might be trouble, as you thought. Would you mind assisting me?"

"Not at all," Alex agreed. Climbing onto the bed, he slid a lean, muscled thigh on either side of her and went to work with earnestness.

"Very pretty," he proclaimed after removing half a dozen hairpins, which he was throwing toward his chest of drawers, "and entirely suitable, but I confess to preferring your hair loose."

"That wouldn't suit a married woman, except in the bedroom," Clarity said, stroking her hands along his bare legs.

She heard the hitch in his breath and continued to let her fingers play along his skin.

"Wife," he growled. "Are you sure you're exhausted and ready to sleep?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I can hardly keep my eyes open. Have you finished with my hair?"

"Nearly."

"Ouch!" she exclaimed when he tugged and got his fingers tangled. It was time to put him out of his misery before she became bald.

"Stop," she said. "Let me try." Quickly, she reached up and felt around for the final pins, tossing them in the same direction as he had before leaning back against his broad chest.

His heart beat a reassuring tattoo through the fine wool dressing gown.

"Mm," she said upon a sigh, running her fingers through her tresses before capturing the single braid that had been coiled around the crown of her head.

"You make a comfortable chair," she teased. "Would you help me remove my chemise?"

"Your chemise?" His voice cracked on the second syllable.

"Why, yes. That is, unless you don't want to."

In answer, he reached around her, brushing his hands across her breasts, causing her nipples to stiffen instantly. Then his capable fingers moved down to her lap before beginning to draw up the finest thin cotton toward her waist.

When he'd exposed her thighs, she rested her head back upon his shoulder.

"There is a single pearl button between my breasts," she told him.

At once, his hands cupped her, kneading her breasts gently before attending to the small button. Once undone, he could open wide her shift and slip it off her shoulders, before his hands returned to palm her breasts.

"If you truly want to sleep now," he said before dropping kisses upon the side of her neck, "then I may need to go into another room for a cold bath and a glass of brandy."

Clarity laughed and slid off the edge of the bed. The chemise fell to her feet. Turning, she stood before him in the sheerest silken stockings, each tied above her knee with a pale blue satin ribbon. It felt oddly sensual to leave them on, along with a single sapphire pendant and her sapphire earbobs.

"My Diamond," he whispered, reaching out to grasp her hand.

With a single tug, he pulled Clarity back onto the bed with him, and she sprawled atop his body, her hair hanging loose around him as he always liked.

Before she knew it, she'd lowered her mouth to his, and they were kissing. When his tongue slipped hotly between her lips, her insides turned to liquid. If Alex didn't slip himself just as hotly between her legs soon, she would lose her mind.

After a moment, she drew back.

"Please, Alex."

"Tell me," he commanded.

"Roll me under you," she beseeched. "Now!"

And he did. In the shake of a lamb's tail, Clarity found herself on her back, looking up at him. She smiled, and he grinned down, and her insides melted.

"Your dressing gown," she reminded him.

He propped himself upon his hands, so she could undo his belt. For a moment, there was a flurry of his sleeves and her hands trying to assist, then his arms until the wretched robe had been hurled across the room.

"That was poor planning on your part," she scolded.

"It was," he agreed, nudging her thighs apart with his knee.

She thought they would get right to the swiving after weeks of fondling and passionate caresses, of sucking and licking. Yet he hovered over her, leaning on one forearm and reaching down to let his fingers glide between her legs.

She gasped. If he did that another time, she might find her relief before he even entered her.

"You are damp already."

"I know," she said, her voice hoarse.

Reaching out, she grasped his manhood. "You are stiff as a tree limb already."

"I know," he echoed her words. Then his glance caught hers. "You are perfection. Are you aware of that?"

"No one is," she said, beyond happy.

"Liar," he bit out. "You are, and you cannot tell me otherwise."

He didn't seem to mind, or perhaps hadn't noticed, the little pale lines on the sides of her stomach. The midwife said they might be permanent, but she rubbed them every day with a beeswax balm her mother had suggested.

"Then I shall not argue, my lord. Let's get on with the tupping, shall we?"

And even though they were both charged with desire and her body was throbbing with need, they laughed.

"I cannot imagine," Alex said, fitting the tip of his shaft to her opening, "that there is another couple in the kingdom who is chortling while desperate for one another."

However, as he penetrated her slowly in case she was still sore from childbirth, they both fell silent.

Clarity closed her eyes, head back, allowing the long-missed sensation of her husband stretching her and filling her to be all that she focused on.

When he was sheathed inside her as far as he could, she opened her eyes and stared into his.

"Yes," she said.

He began a rhythm of thrusting and withdrawing that had her moaning in seconds.

His answering guttural groan told her he, too, was close.

"Touch me," she asked.

Her clever husband knew what she wanted, instantly sliding his hand down between their heated bodies and caressing in a circular fashion around her hardened, aching nubbin.

That was all it took. Gripping his back, she arched away from him, while deep inside her core, she tensed. In seconds, she had shattered and flown apart with the force of her release.

Before she had finished, Alex surged inside her again and climaxed, his entire body shuddering under her touch.

"Blazes!" he said as he collapsed beside her.

"Indeed," she agreed, snuggling against his side. "I wonder if we've created a sibling for Thomas."

He dragged the covers over them both with one hand and then wrapped his arm around her.

"I suppose it would mean we don't have to do that again for another year," he said with mock relief.

She giggled. "Still, it might be nice to do it again, perhaps in a few hours."

"Perhaps," he agreed. But when he yawned, a wave of tiredness crested over her, making her yawn, too.

And then she couldn't keep her eyes open another moment.