Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

“ Y ou are supposed to be resting,” Sophia scolded, sneaking into the boathouse where she had known she would find her disobedient patient.

Thomas let out a groan, glancing back over his shoulder. “Alas, the huntress has found the wounded fox at last.” He grinned. “But what she is forgetting is that she is also supposed to be resting.”

She approached what had become his favorite spot, his toes dipping into the water of the pond that sparkled beyond the cooling shade of the boathouse. Dragonflies in their jeweled colors skimmed across the surface, causing barely a ripple, and now and then a fish jumped, safe in the knowledge that there was no one nearby with a rod and a hook.

There were no actual boats, as far as she could tell, but she could understand why he loved this place. It was quiet and serene, with a magnificent view of the pond and the woodland, and far enough from his grandmother’s house to avoid any callers who happened to ‘pass by’ to see how he was faring.

“Your grandmother has cured me. I have no reason to rest anymore, and if I have to spend another moment in bed, I’ll take leave of my senses,” Sophia replied, sitting down next to her husband, leaning into the solidity of him.

He pulled a playfully pouting face—something she was still getting used to.

“What a terrible thing to say to your beloved,” he teased. “And I was just thinking that, since my grandmother is in town, and no one is likely to call on us in such suffocating heat, we might spend the whole afternoon in bed.”

She peered up at him. “But… you are hurt.”

“I’m not,” he assured her. “And if I can’t make love to you, I will take leave of my senses. In truth, I think it will rid me of my last aches and pains.”

She raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”

“I read about it somewhere.” His hand came up to cradle her cheek, his eyes shining with affection… and hungry with desire.

“You’ll have to point me in the direction of such a book.”

He chuckled in the back of his throat. “I couldn’t possibly. It is too inappropriate for such innocent eyes.”

“Let us not forget who asked who for a ‘favor,’ my love,” she reminded him with a sultry smile. “ I was the bold one.”

“You still are,” he murmured, catching her lips in a slow, longed-for kiss.

There were not nearly enough opportunities to steal such kisses while they were quarantined at Rosamund’s house for the duration of their recovery. Their arrival there a week ago had been somewhat accidental, it being the closest residence to the hunting lodge, and inhabited by a woman who knew everything there was to know about healing herbs and remedies.

Rosamund had been horrified and then delighted, herding them in separate bedchambers. “So that you don’t make yourselves worse with close proximity. The rooms are for rest and recuperation, nothing else.”

But perhaps she had known that the married pair needed some time alone, for she had suddenly decided to visit town to have tea with an old friend, leaving them that morning with the jarringly jovial sentiment. “If I don’t see her now, the next time will likely be at her funeral.”

Sophia wrapped her arms around Thomas’s waist, sinking into his kiss, reveling in the notion that—once they were healed and back home—they could do this whenever they pleased.

But as their kiss deepened, the air around them seemed to thicken and crackle, like the atmosphere before a summer storm. And Sophia knew they would not make it back to the comfort of the bedchamber, nor did she mind, for there were cushions and blankets aplenty in the boathouse. Presumably left behind after the boats themselves had drifted off somewhere else.

His lips kissed down her chin and along her jaw, and as he dipped his head to kiss her neck, he gently pushed her down onto the blanket he had already laid out for himself.

Gazing up at him, feeling the weight of him on her, she smiled and brushed the dark locks from his face, taking a moment to just admire the inordinate beauty of her husband.

“Am I allowed to touch you this time?” she asked mischievously.

He smirked. “As I don’t have all of the strength back in my arm yet, I suppose I can permit it.”

“Good.”

She pulled his head down and kissed him hard, her body already responding to the promise of pleasure she hadn’t thought she would ever get to experience again.

In the balmy haze of the summery afternoon, crickets chirping in the long grass, bees humming in the wildflowers, Thomas unwrapped Sophia from her clothes as if she were the most precious gift. His lips followed the movement of the fabric, chasing the hem of her skirts up and over her head, doing the same with her petticoats, her chemisette, and her stays.

“Exquisite,” he murmured as she lay back on the blanket, unhindered by any garments at all.

Reaching for him, she finally got to do what she had dreamed about—undressing him slowly. She kissed his warm skin wherever it was revealed, running her tongue over the contours of his hard muscles, exploring him in a way he hadn’t allowed the last time. But even then, he had control, for as she curled her hand around his swollen length, he gasped and caught her hand, pulling it away.

“The next time,” he said with a smile, “you can touch me there as much as you please.”

She pouted. “Spoilsport.”

“I would be spoiling the sport if I were to let you now,” he told her as he leaned down and kissed her slowly, sensually, tortuously.

He wasn’t asking her to beg him, but her body was doing it anyway, her hips lifting to try and draw him inside her, willing him to plunge into her depths without delay.

“What about the preamble?” he asked with a soft laugh.

She shook her head, parroting him. “The next time, you can touch me there as much as you please.”

“Minx.”

“I had an excellent teacher,” she replied, gasping as he slid his manhood between her slick folds, stimulating her bundle of nerves.

As the sound of a splash drifted towards them, he gave her what she desired, easing into her with the same slow consideration as before. Only, this time, she knew what to expect, the tortuous glide of his flesh adding fuel to the fire of her bliss.

“Yes, my love,” she moaned. “Oh, yes!”

As he withdrew and pushed slowly inside her once more, her back arched off the blanket. To her surprise, he grabbed a nearby cushion and put it beneath the small of her back, tilting her hips up. At first, she didn’t understand, but as he filled her to the hilt again, she more than understood, as pulses of delicious lightning fizzed up from her core, sparking upward until every part of her felt like it was aglow.

They moved as one in the shelter of the boathouse, a tangle of limbs and love, lost in each other. Their sighs and gasps and moans of bliss joined the hum of the bees and the coos of roosting doves and the vibrations of the dragonflies, becoming another instrument in the divine orchestra of the nature around them.

Just then, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up onto his lap, her arms locking around his neck as they kissed with unbridled fervor. And as he sank back on his haunches, instinct took over.

She rocked her hips against him, delirious with the friction of his skin against her swollen bud, riding him the only way she knew how—fast.

It was almost more than she could bear, feeling him so deep inside her, being in control of each thrust, taking him into her again and again. His hands gripped the firm flesh of her buttocks, urging her onward, while his mouth never paused, kissing her lips, her neck, her shoulders, her throat, her brow. And when his tongue danced with hers, it was utter perfection—a waltz she would not mess up.

“Are you close?” he growled.

She nodded, understanding his meaning. “Yes… oh, my love… yes.”

Kissing her fiercely, he slid his hand between her thighs, careful not to interrupt the eager rock and roll of her hips. The moment his fingertips touched her bundle of nerves, she exploded as if she had merely been waiting for the detonation.

“My love! Oh God… Oh, my love!” she cried out and arched her neck, soaring into the powerful current of her climax.

At the same time, she heard him growl against her throat, the ferocity of her conclusion hurtling to another realm of pleasure entirely as she felt him pulse inside her. He seemed to grow larger, thicker, while she continued to grind against him, slower than before. She couldn’t concentrate as intently on the movement of her hips, with paradise singing in her veins.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as her pleasure began to ebb. She sagged with utter contentment, burying her face in his neck and letting him take her weight, knowing she was safe, knowing he would not let go.

“I love you,” she murmured, kissing his shoulder.

He echoed the kiss. “As I love you.”

“And to think… we once hated each other,” she said, laughing as she clung to him, finding the entire notion completely impossible.

He smiled against her shoulder. “No, I don’t think we did.” He pulled back, gazing into her eyes as he brushed her hair from her face. “I think it was just passion hiding in plain sight.”

“I am not going to disagree with that .” She sighed, grateful beyond belief that her decision to venture to his townhouse in the dead of night had led to this. Had led to the kind of love and happiness that came once in a lifetime.

If she had done just one thing differently, she might have remained a spinster, never knowing how wonderful life could be with a Pratt and as a Pratt.

Sometimes, I guess it pays to be bold…

“I love you,” she told him.

He grinned. “You just said that.”

“And I shall never stop.”

He kissed her brow. “Then neither shall I.”