To Love, Honor, and Obey... Page 15

  At this, his eyes went as round as saucers. “Ah...that explains a lot about their behavior. Was the father unsuitable? Perhaps now that her plan to marry me came to naught, she ran away to be with him?”

  Obedience shook her head. “She said he was a local lord, and that it was”—she swallowed—“not of her choosing. He would not marry her.”

  Chance's face changed into a mask of anger. “She was raped?”

  Obedience nodded.

  He came forward and wrapped his arms around her. She let him, melting into his hard frame and letting go of her anger.

  “I'm sorry for what happened to your sister. Whatever it is you want me to do, all you have to do is ask.”

  “I want to find her,” she said against his chest.

  “We will find her. I can hire someone to investigate the matter discreetly.”

  He sounded so confident, like the matter was already resolved. They stood there holding each other for a moment until Chance pulled back. “Your bath is getting cold.” He moved away and finished filling the tub, saving one bucket to rinse her hair.

  “I don't need you to attend me in the bath,” she said bashfully.

  “Oh, but that is exactly what I intend to do.” He took her hand and pulled her to the bath. She complied, embarrassed and very intrigued.

  He pushed her chemise from her shoulders, leaving her standing before him naked. He stared at her boldly, taking in every part of her body with his eyes. He handed her into the tub and she lowered into the warm water. He lathered a cloth with soap, and she did her best to hold still as he thoroughly washed every part of her body. When he was done, she was flushed with desire and extremely aroused. He finished with his hand between her legs, dropping the cloth, and letting his fingers brush against her.

  “Sit up so I can rinse your hair,” he urged her, keeping the one hand between her legs and tipping the bucket over her head with another. He slipped a finger inside her as the water spilled over her. Setting the bucket down, he cradled the back of her head and kissed her.

  Obedience held her eyes closed as his mouth merged with hers in a wet, slippery kiss. She tipped her head back even farther, moaning into his mouth as he slipped his fingers in and out of her in a tantalizing rhythm. He released her mouth and moved away. She opened her eyes in disappointment, her body crying out silently for more. He reached for the towel and stood, holding it open. He wrapped the towel around her as she stepped out of the tub.

  “Now will you tuck me into bed?” she said hopefully.

  “Not until you’re dry,” he said, and he proceeded to dry her just as thoroughly as he bathed her.

  Chapter 16

  Obedience woke with renewed vigor. Last night had not gone as expected, but she wasn't disappointed. He was taking a new path with her, a gentle, doting approach that left her body hungering for him but also pleased with his careful wooing. She had never been wooed before, and she had to admit she liked it. He stayed with her all night, batting her eager hands away from his manhood and squashing her attempts to take things further. It had been fun to turn the tables on him and be the seducer instead of the one being seduced. He was trying to play the gentleman with her again, to slow things down, and tenderly introduce her to all the intricacies of lovemaking. That was fine, she would play along because it was fun and made her feel special, but that didn't mean she would play fair.

  Her problem was she only knew what he had already shown her, and he alluded to there being so much more. She couldn't make up her own rules if she didn't know the game. She needed to find out what else there was to know, so she could plan a coup.

  She was combing the library for books when Mrs. Moore found her doing exactly thus.

  “Ma'am, a young woman has arrived under the assumption of joining our staff.”

  Obedience grimaced. She forgot to tell Mrs. Moore about Myra. “Oh yes, Myra Cunning. She was my lady’s maid before I moved here. My mother has moved away permanently and left some of her staff without direction. I invited her to come here. I thought she could be my lady’s maid again so Angela is not so busy. I know she loathes my curls, as much as she tries to hide it, bless her heart.”

  Mrs. Moore tilted her head in thought. “I won't say she won't be relieved, ma'am. I'm sorry to hear that so many were put out of work so suddenly.”

  “And most likely without reference,” Obedience added.

  “Would you recommend we bring anyone else on? I'm happy to say the house is much livelier now despite our recent loss.” Mrs. Moore paused before continuing, “In time the family will be growing, and we will need the extra help.”

  Obedience kept her eyes on the books and her back to Mrs. Moore. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Surely, Mrs. Moore wasn't alluding to children? Obedience wanted to melt into the rug. Was the whole household privy to their lives? Obviously not, or they would know that such an occurrence was unlikely given Chance had yet to let them venture there again.

  “I will have to think about it, Mrs. Moore. With the exception of Myra, I was not overly fond of the other staff.”

  “Yes, ma'am. I'll tell Angela the good news—er, tell her she can resume her normal duties and show Miss Cunning to her new quarters.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Moore.” Obedience sighed in relief once the housekeeper was gone. She had a sudden thought. Myra had admitted to working at an opera house before finding more respectable work. She hadn't admitted it outright, but she had alluded to knowing a few gentlemen before leaving London. She wondered if she should ask her for advice. The more she thought about it, the more merit the idea had. She abandoned the library for now and headed to the red parlor.

  Chance sat in his study staring at the pile of correspondence on his desk. He tried to summon the urge to open letters, but if he was going to be honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to search out Obedience and do wicked things to her. He hadn't anticipated wooing his wife to be so bloody difficult. He was in a constant state of arousal since his return only yesterday. He picked up the letter opener and stabbed at an envelope. He committed himself to opening and responding to five letters before he would allow himself to leave his desk.

  An hour later, he accomplished his goal but only at the sacrifice of his eyesight. Mr. Fable had terrible penmanship for a secretary. He would have to discuss it with the man or risk going blind. Mr. Fable had questions about everything, even the thickness of hay to be strewn about in the chicken coops. Dear God, it was mind-numbing. Chance pushed away from his desk. It was nearly time for lunch, he hadn't seen his wife all morning, and he was determined to get outside for some fresh air.

  After making a few inquiries, he found his wife in the red parlor, a room she had claimed for her own use. She was reading a book, lounging on a settee and absently twirling a curl around her finger. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her. “Why do I have correspondence coming out my ears, and you get to lie about and read.” He approached her and pulled the book from her hands. He looked at the title. “Poetry, of all things.”

  Obedience sat up and smiled smugly. “With Gable and Mrs. Moore around, I haven't much to do unless we're entertaining, which we are not and won't be doing for some time yet.”

  “And what of your other wifely duties.” He leaned over her, tossing the book to a nearby table.

  She looped her arms around his neck. “You've yet to teach me my other wifely duties, which are also one of your duties.”

  He playfully nipped at her ear. “Then it is my duty to take my wife on a picnic this very moment.”

  “A picnic?” she said delightedly.

  “At the creek,” he smiled wolfishly.

  Her eyes widened. “I should change. I can't take this dress off myself.”

  “There's no need.” Chance assured her. “I've quite a bit of practice undressing you.”

  She bit her lip. He could see the cogs turning in her mind, imaginings of what mischief they could make at the creek. “Then by all means, take me on a picnic, dea
r husband.”

  They arrived at the creek, hair windblown from galloping across the fields. He helped her down and tied the horses to a strong branch before leading her down to the bank. Without much rain, the creek had shrunk, affording them plenty of flat, dry sand to spread a blanket. It was humid under the thick canopy of trees, the water bubbling and chirping birds adding to the ambiance. They had spent so much time here during their summers growing up that it seemed only right they would continue the habit as husband and wife. She held the basket as he spread out the blanket, and then they sat side by side, looking over the surroundings.

  “I love it here. This place will always be special to me.”

  Chance nodded. He uncorked a bottle of champagne and filled their glasses, handing one to her. “I bought you something in London. I forgot to give it to you last night.”

  “You bought me something? Like a gift?” she said dubiously.

  He laughed. “Relax. It’s quite normal for a husband to buy gifts for his wife.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean, when he's been an arse?”

  He nearly spit out his sip of champagne. “There are many occasions to spoil one’s wife. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

  Obedience shrugged.

  “Close your eyes.” He moved in front of her and pulled out a small box from his coat pocket. He held out the box to her. “Open your eyes.”

  She did, blinking as she stared at the box. “What is this?”

  “Open it and find out,” he encouraged her.

  She gently took the box and lifted the lid. Resting on the tissue was a brooch of carved tiger-eye in the shape of a bear. She brought a shaking hand to her mouth and didn't make a sound. Chance took the box from her hand and picked up the brooch. He pinned it to her dress.

  “I'm not supposed to wear any adornment while mourning him.”

  Chance ignored her feeble protest. “Now you can always carry him with you.”

  She looked down at the brooch, lightly touching the bear’s smooth back with her fingertip. “Oh, Chance.” She lunged into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his neck. He held her tightly. He could feel her hot tears on his skin.

  “I didn't mean to upset you.”

  “I'm not upset,” she cried.

  “I find it hard to believe you.”

  She pulled back. “I've never been given something so precious—I mean, my father gave me the music box and the drawing, but this... It means so much to me.”

  He lightly kissed her lips. “And you meant a lot to him. I have so much to remember him by—countless memories, whittled horses, portraits of us through the years. Now you can carry him with you, a symbol of his spirit. You've been so brave taking on so much for our sake. I am so grateful to you. I know you loved him as much as I do, and feel his loss as much as I do.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a watery smile.

  He kissed her again, and then moved back. They sat in companionable silence, eating cucumber sandwiches and cold chicken. Once finished, Chance packed up the basket and pulled her to her feet. “Care for a swim?”

  She nodded, her eyes dry again and free of sorrow. He helped her undress down to her chemise when inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning. “Obedience,” he said huskily.

  “Hmm?” She yawned and stretched with her back to him.

  He pulled her back against his bare chest and played with the strap of her chemise. “How would you feel about swimming nude?”

  She stilled. “Both of us?”

  “It would be pointless otherwise.”

  She shrugged one shoulder and looked back at him with a seductive smile. She turned and pulled her chemise over her head, standing naked before him with challenge in her eyes.

  He grinned back at her and reached for the buttons of his breeches. She waded into the water, now only waist deep, and he followed her. She shyly peeked at him over her shoulder as she trailed her fingers in the water. He quickly grew tired of her sudden bashfulness and caught her against him, causing her to squirm and laugh as he dunked them under the cool water.

  Breaking the surface, he stole a kiss and wrapped her legs around his waist, torturing them both with the proximity of their loins.

  She groaned in frustration when he pulled away, holding her tightly to prevent her from sinking onto his shaft. “Chance, when are you going to make love to me?”

  He laughed. “Are we back to the discussion of husbands bothering their wives again?”

  “Don't tease. I'm serious,” she pleaded.

  “Haven't you enjoyed my courting? It’s not traditional courting with flowers and afternoon calls, but we are not the traditional couple.”

  “Is that what you're doing? Courting me?”

  “Courting, wooing, it’s all the same. I'm declaring my intent.”

  “We're already married.” She growled and tried to wiggle lower.

  He held her easily. “I'm declaring my feelings for you.”

  That caught her attention. She stopped wiggling and just stared at him. “Feelings?” she said sheepishly. “You mean the passion you mentioned before?”

  He thought about that for a moment. He had used their shared passion as a means to convince her to agree to marry him, but now that didn't seem enough. They were married, and he felt something far stronger than mere passion.

  “More than that,” he confessed.

  Obedience stared back at him in astonishment. She was dying to know precisely what he meant but couldn't find the words to ask. More than that could mean a number of things, but her giddy heart focused on one word.

  Love.

  She knew she loved him as she always had, in an infatuated always-out-of-her-reach kind of way. But she did her best to not think about the idea of falling in love with him because even though he was the kindest man she knew, unrequited love could be debilitating. This she knew from novels. Once one saw something it could not be unseen, and the same was true of thoughts. Now that she thought she could fall in love with him, it could not be un-thought, and staring back at him dumbly, she desperately wanted to know if he was feeling the same.

  “What’s more than passion?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I'm not sure I know.”

  Her heart sunk. She unwrapped herself from him and swam away from him. She stopped before the waterfall. “You said more than passion, what does that mean?”

  “I did.” He waded closer to her. “I know so much has changed between us. Being here with you has shown me that. We are not the children we used to be.”

  “Did you only just stumble upon that revelation?” She laughed. “I've always loved you, Chance. From the time I was a little girl, I worshiped upon the altar of your kindness and golden curls. You are the stuff girlish fantasies are made of, a perfect image of prince charming.”

  Chance grimaced uncomfortably.

  “Don't pretend you didn't know.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “But that is not the same as love, not the kind shared by Romeo and Juliet, the kind that poets write sonnets about. I don't expect you to fall in love with me, not simply because we married and have passion. I haven't fooled myself into believing that is possible,” she said painfully. It was excruciating to admit it aloud, because the moment she said it, she realized that was exactly what she wanted. That had been her girlhood dream, and it had stayed with her into womanhood.

  Chance remained silent. She could feel his eyes on her even though she had her back to him. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, the cool water swirling around her shoulders, doing nothing to calm the hot flush of embarrassment. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn't resist him as he turned her to face him, but she couldn't look up to meet his eyes.

  “What is love, Obedience? Is it what poets write about? Or a fictitious tale of the death of two foolish young lovers? I'm not sure I really know. What I do know is that you were always meant to be at my side. You have always been a part of what home is to me. I
may not have always appreciated your presence, especially through some of your more bratty years, but it would have felt wrong if you weren't here every time I came home. You are a part of me, like this land and the house I was born in. You make it whole. My father was right. You were the only choice. I may not have seen it at first, but it was easy to feel once I considered it. We rushed through all of it, the proposal, the wedding, but it wasn't a decision based on logic. It was a decision based on the heart. If love is anything, it is that.”

  Obedience trembled as she looked up at him. It felt as if his words spoke directly to her heart. It filled her with hope. “Are you saying you love me?” She bit her lip. Giddiness filled her chest like champagne bubbles.

  He frowned comically, as if in deep thought. “I suppose I am.”

  She swatted at his chest. “I refuse to believe you unless you say it.”

  “Fine.” He growled playfully. He grabbed both of her hands and held them against his chest. “I love you.”

  Obedience inhaled sharply. Her mind struggled to accept the words. She felt as if she were floating in a dream. “You do?”

  “I do, but do you think you could feel the same? No more girlish infatuation or fantasies of a prince charming. I want devotion and real, burning, insatiable love.”

  She nodded. Her chest bursting with joy.

  “Then say it.” He dared her. He dipped his head and nipped at her nose.

  She took a deep breath, her breasts pressing against his bare chest. “I love you.”

  She felt him tense, saw his eyes dilate. His arms tightened around her. “This has definitely changed things.”

  “Everything has changed. You've turned my whole world upside down. I don't think I'm even the same person,” she said shakily. Her skin was coming alive again. She was becoming overly sensitive to the splash of water against her skin, the swell of each breath they took, and the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her stomach. “Will you take me home now and make love to me?”