Chapter Thirty-Five

Montague survived.

Nathanial was fairly certain this was a good thing. His wife wasn't a murderer, and while she expressed no desire to be a part of Montague's life, she also didn't want him dead.

He, however, would have been more than happy to orchestrate Montague's death himself. That seemed a fair exchange.

As it was, he satisfied himself that he, and Theo, would never have to see his cousin again.

After three days ensuring Montague wasn't going to die on his property, Nathanial removed Theo and himself to Havercroft. Partly to escape Montague's lingering and unwelcome presence.

Partly because Nathanial wanted to be far from the events of the year when they finally consummated their marriage.And the sooner they did that , the better.

Theo peered out of the carriage window as they approached the house. "I've seen it so many times before, but this feels different, somehow."

"Probably because you're now its mistress. "

She flicked her gaze to him, a teasing smile curving her lips. "As good a reason to marry as any."

"A better reason than most, given the size of my estate."

Her laugh was rich and beautiful. For the first time, he realised how little he'd heard it over the course of their marriage.

That was another thing that would change.

They pulled up outside the front doors, where the servants were lined up to greet their new mistress. Nathanial offered her his hand, and with his bride by his side, turned to face his childhood home.

How many times had he and Theo run wild through this house and across the land? She had been here almost as often as he had as a boy, and it felt only right she was here to stay.

"Roland," she said, greeting the austere butler with a gracious smile and a nod of her head. A twinkle in the back of her eyes, saved for Nathanial, was the only thing that marred her presentation of a great lady, and he knew no one else would notice.

If only his mother could see her now.

"You've seen the house plenty of times before," he said as he led her into the hallway. "I won't bore you with a tour." At least, not of the downstairs.

There was plenty upstairs he wished to show her.

She looked around, at the arching ceiling and the paintings on the walls. "I'd forgotten how grand it is."

"Do you like it?" The words were almost involuntary, falling from his lips before he'd realised they had formed.

"How could I not?"

He had fully intended on being a gentleman and allowing her to accustom herself to the house and her responsibilities before making any advances, but the artless way she said it, as though it was inconceivable that she would not like his ancestral home, snapped something in him. He scooped her into his arms, ignoring the slight ache in his shoulder .

"Nathanial?" Theo wrapped an arm around his neck, a breathy laugh escaping her. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to the only part of the house you have yet to visit."

Her eyes, molten in the light, widened. "Oh."

"I made you a promise," he told her as he mounted the stairs, "that one day I would show you how difficult it has been to wait."

" Oh ."

"I am a man of my word, Theo."

The arm around his neck tightened, and she exhaled a long, shuddering breath against his throat. "I would not have you any other way," she said, and the huskiness in her voice spurred him on.

But when she started pressing tiny kisses to the side of his neck, pulling his cravat out of the way so she could have better access, he came to a stop. "I do not have infinite patience," he said, though his words sounded more like a grunt.

"You have tried mine for entirely too long," she murmured, kissing up to his ear and the sensitive skin there. This was tenderness in its purest form, combined with a sensuality that tempted him to give up on reaching his bed. He let her down for a moment before picking her up again, this time so she could hitch her skirts up and wrap her legs around him.

The bed was categorically not necessary.

She made a pleased sound in her throat at the way he caught her mouth with his, kissing her until the gallery around them swam and he couldn't breathe. Or perhaps he'd forgotten—breathing hardly seemed a priority when her lips were so soft and her hands clung to him.

"Nathanial," she panted, breaking away. "Here?"

"We may as well give my ancestors something to frown over."

" Nathanial . "

"This house is ours and we may do what we like in it." He paused and looked down into her flushed face. She'd never looked lovelier than she did now, in his arms with flared pupils and a voice that quivered with desire.

He wanted to take her here. He wanted to push her skirts up around her thighs and bury himself inside her. He wanted his name to be on her lips.

But she deserved better; for him to take his time as he claimed her.

Mine .

It was primal, this need to have her as his own, just as urgent as his need to offer her the last part of his heart.

"I love you," he said roughly, and carried her the rest of the way to his bedroom.

Nathanial's bedroom was large and spacious, with a gilded mirror hanging above the fireplace and chintz chairs around a walnut table in the corner. However, Theo did not spare them more than a passing glance. The only thing that occupied her attention was the bed. The mattress was as wide as it was long, and the decorated roof was so high she couldn't see the detail close enough to appreciate it fully.

Not that she had much opportunity as Nathanial laid her down, wincing slightly as his shoulder pained him, and pressed kisses across her jaw. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, and she wondered if there was a way to remove her clothes without painstakingly undoing all the tiny buttons down the back.

Really, someone ought to have thought this through.

As though he knew what she was thinking, he drew her skirts further up her thighs, revealing her legs to the cool air. Or perhaps the air was warm, and it was her that was burning up.

He toyed with the top of her stockings. "While these are delightful," he murmured, "I really think we could dispense with their services."

"I'm wearing a dress, stays and a chemise, and your priority is my stockings?" Unable to help herself, she grinned up at him, her chest bursting with such fierce adoration she half thought her heart would explode with the force of feeling. "Of everything I'm wearing, I mind those the least."

There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes that made her stomach twist with anticipation. "Oh, I intend on removing it all."

"Soon?"

"Impatient, my muse?" He used the name as an endearment, as though the memory of their first joining brought him only pleasure. "Half the joy comes in the anticipation."

"We have had five months of it." To prove her point, she tightened her legs around his waist, holding him to her as he had been before. In a different bed, certainly—far less grand—but the feeling was the same.

Consumed.

There was a slight growl to his voice as he said, "Today, I want to worship you as you deserve to be worshipped."

Well, Theo couldn't complain at that .

He moved torturously slowly, as though his entire being was focused on the feeling of his lips against hers, the slow sweep of his tongue; an endless provocation, calling to mind all the other things he could do if he had but the inclination.

And the fire that had remained banked within Theo grew stronger with every movement of his mouth, with the soft travel of his hands down her body, starting from her shoulders and trailing down her arms to her waist, her legs, exploring the skin just above her stockings. His fingers toyed with the lace and silk almost idly, as though he barely noticed what he was doing.

It transpired Theo could argue at the idea of being worshipped if it involved so little touching.

"Nathanial," she groaned as he kissed her again, leisurely, as though they had all the time in the world. "Please."

His lips curved against her mouth. "Say it again."

"Please."

His smile was all delight and desire that made her catch her breath. "Your wish is my command, Your Grace."

Never had those words taken on a more sensual meaning.

This time, when he kissed her, it was with the edge of intention, and she responded in kind, running her hands along his chest, avoiding his wound, to his stomach, and further down, to his breeches and the bulge that she knew now was an expression of desire just for her. It twitched under her curious fingers, and he groaned.

"Lord, Theo," he said, and there was no sensual promise in his voice now. It was raw and full of need, and he ripped off his cravat, then his waistcoat, followed shortly after by his shirt, tugged over his head with such impatience it stoked the fire in Theo's stomach. It was the first time she had seen his wound in weeks, and she sat up now, her gaze fixed on his shoulder.

He caught his breath, holding it as she reached out and touched the puckered skin. His eyes were dark and heavy on her face. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Very little."

She had almost lost him; the wound would never heal, and she was, in a way, relieved. They would never forget what they had been through, and what they had gained by his recovery and everything that had happened since.

She didn't want to forget. Not the pain or the joy that had followed after .

Would her happiness now be as potent if she hadn't suffered the pain of loss and despair? They had fought for this moment, and it was all the sweeter for it.

"Theo," he said quietly.

"I love you," she said. He stiffened. "Every inch, Nate."

His hand came up to cup hers, holding it against the wound. "I would do it all again," he murmured.

Before she could cry during their joining—three for three really would be unacceptable—she kissed him. Tenderly, cupping his face in her hands as he pulled her closer. His arms wrapped around her, holding her against him, and this time she felt no impatience.

A lifetime was more than enough time for them to explore each other's bodies with aching precision. For now, she was content to be in his arms, his mouth against hers, his hands flat against her back.

Eventually, however, those hands began to move, applying themselves to the buttons down the back of her dress, moving steadily downwards. Once it was loose, he pulled it over her head and tossed it to one side. Her stays went the same way, as did her stockings, until she only wore her chemise.

Nathanial pulled her pins from her hair until it tumbled down her shoulders. "If I could have my way, you would never leave this room."

"Ask nicely," she said, running her hands through his hair. "You never know what boons I might grant."

He laughed at that, but then he slid the chemise up her body, and his laughter died as he looked at her. "Theo," he said unsteadily. "Theo, my love. You are the most beautiful lady I've ever had the privilege of seeing."

"Nathanial—"

He kissed her, swallowing her protest. "And I shall spend the rest of my life reminding you of it. "

She slid her hands down her chest, savouring the feel of his soft skin under her palms, to the material of his breeches. "I cannot be the only one exposed."

"This time," he murmured, "I would not have it any other way." He kept his eyes on hers as he shifted back until he was standing. In a few quick motions, he removed his breeches, and then he stood before her, all bare skin and muscles and arousal.

She ached for him.

"Nate." Her throat was dry and she held out her hands for him. "Please. I want to know everything."

He took her hands, kissed them, and joined her on the bed, lying beside her. The tips of his fingers were whisper-soft as they brushed her loose hair back from her face. "Do you trust me?"

He had asked her that before, and she had pledged her trust without knowing all she knew now. This time, she was in possession of all the facts, yet her trust was just as immediate, just as implicit. "You know I do. Completely."

A tiny smile crossed his face, and the hand on her face moved down her body between her breasts to her hips. He traced small circles across her skin until she moved, parting her thighs and inviting him to the place that had been throbbing for him since they began.

As he slid his fingers into her slickness, he kissed her, capturing her moans and swallowing them. The world stopped, all thoughts suspended as he stroked her, his breath harsh and fast against her neck. She felt his arousal against her leg, moving against her as though he couldn't help himself.

This time, the pleasure gathered faster, building and tightening inside her in what felt like seconds. His nose brushed against her neck, as he slipped a finger inside her. Then another.

"Nathanial," she gasped.

He made a noise of approval. "That's right. "

It was indeed right; she could think of nothing more right than this moment, and she fumbled for his hand, linking their fingers, needing to hold onto something as he coaxed her over the edge.

Her back arched and her body shuddered entirely out of her control. If she'd had her faculties, she might have felt a quiver of embarrassment, but there was nothing in her head but Nathanial and his hands on her, wringing pleasure from her she had never known existed.

This time, when it was over, she didn't cry. There were no tears; the feeling in her chest didn't allow for anything but smiles. He skimmed the back of his knuckles across her cheek.

"There's more," she said, though it was more of a question.

"There's more," he confirmed.

"Show me."

In answer, he ran a hand down her leg, finding the crook of her knee and guiding it over his hips. She shifted to allow for the movement, and found herself straddling him. Both his hands settled on her thighs as he looked up at her, eyes burning, so beautiful she could hardly breathe.

"This may hurt," he said as he eased her up and placed himself at her entrance. "But in this position, you're in control." As though to prove his point, he removed his hand from her hip, the message clear.

This time, Theo felt no hesitation. Do you trust me? he had asked.

The answer would always be yes.

Obeying the prompting of her body, she lowered herself onto him, the stretch almost painful. He filled her, and it filled a space she hadn't even known ached for him. This was everything she hadn't even known she'd been missing; the truest act of love, and the joy of it filled her almost as entirely as he did .

Underneath her, he was utterly still, muscles tense, as she eased further down, the stretch almost painful—the brink of pleasure and pain. He sucked in a breath as she paused, bracing herself with a hand against his chest, and seated herself fully on him.

He ran a reassuring hand up her side. "Does it hurt?"

She experimented shifting her hips, and discovered that the delightful friction chased away any lingering thoughts of pain or tightness. She did it again and his eyes fluttered shut as he released a long, controlled breath. His hand tensed on her side.

"Look at me," she said, just as he had said the last time they had come together. He opened his eyes as his other hand stroked along her legs, and the expression in them made her skin feel hot all over.

It took a moment for her to find her rhythm. He kept patiently still, smoothing her hair away from her face and running his hands all over her, until finally, he moved to meet her.

This time, his groan sounded utterly involuntary, and the tension low in her belly tightened.

She understood, now, why this was called lovemaking. In this, there was equal measure giving and taking, yielding and submitting, owning and possessing. In this, they were one in the most primal of ways; she would always carry a piece of Nathanial with her, and her with him. For the first time in her life, she had been made complete, offering herself to a man who offered himself in return.

His breath was ragged against her face, and he slid his hands down to her waist, his fingers digging into her skin. "Theo," he groaned, and the sound of her name said in such a way set her alight. "Theo."

"I love you."

He cursed, low and harsh, and the sound was enough to undo her. Release barrelled through her body, and he rode out the way she shuddered on him, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how much she wanted this.

When the final wave of pleasure drained from her, he rolled them over, until his body pressed against hers just as it had before. This time, however, he was inside her.

And oh—if she thought the last time had been wonderful, this was incendiary.

Nathanial linked their fingers and kissed her as he found his rhythm. Theo held him, loved him, and he soon followed her over the edge with her name on his lips.

After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, Nathanial slid away and she curled against his side. His chest rose and fell rapidly, matching hers, and she felt her heartbeat in her chest, her ears, thrumming through her entire body alongside a lethargy that dictated she remain here for a long time. Perhaps forever.

She wasn't certain she minded.

It transpired, somewhat to her surprise, that heroes did not come in the form of handsome strangers to sweep her off her feet. That , as Annabelle had once predicted, was less like romance and more like abduction.

Lazily, she traced a heart across Nathanial's chest. He turned to face her. "You're not crying this time," he said, a teasing note to his voice, but there was a look of anxiety in his eyes as he searched her face.

No, heroes came in the form of old friends, in deep and abiding love.

They came in the form of husbands.

"We are truly married now," she said, smiling up at him. "You can't take it back."

"Even if I could, I would not.

"Very gallant."

"When we married, you asked for romance." He kissed her fingers, one by one. "I shall do my best. "

Another thought occurred to her, and she propped herself up on her elbow so she could look at him. "You said something else, too."

"Heavens, Theo. I said a great deal of things and meant very few."

Despite everything they had just done, a blush suffused her cheeks. "You said that you didn't want children at present, and that you didn't expect me—well, that is to say . . ."

"Yes," he said dryly. "I understand you perfectly."

"But now I am performing my wifely duties, does that mean—"

"Theodosia, if you refer to this as your wifely duties again, I shall renounce you as my wife."

"You can't do that," she said, and smiled at his scowl. She pressed a kiss to his arm. "Besides, you didn't answer the question."

His groan was more than a little theatrical, but when he looked at her again, he was biting back a smile. "I suppose we can hardly prevent them now, my love."

"Natha—"

"And yes, I want to expand our family." He kissed her again, long and deep. "Though heaven help me if they're anything like you were as a child."

She slapped his shoulder. "You were worse."

"You're right," he said, his lips a hair's breadth from hers. "I was reprehensible. And do you know, Theo, I think I might be reprehensible again."

Theo could not find it within herself to mind.