Page 87 of A Momentary Marriage

“Mind?” He let out a little laugh. “I find it arousing. Of course, I find almost everything about you arousing.”

Her throaty chuckle sent another sizzle of desire through him. “I like that.”

“So do I.” He bit back a groan as her fingers found his nipple and began to toy with it. How was it that Laura could do things to him that other women had done, yet it was ten times more exciting with her?

There was something almost frightening in the way she could bring out of him a flood of sensations and feelings. Even as he kissed her, as the pleasure swamped him, it carried with it a frisson of alarm, as well, a hint of danger lurking below the surface. And, bizarrely, that dark undertow lured him most of all.

His hands dug into the soft folds of her robe, pushing her firm bottom more tightly against him. She kissed him now deeply, urgently. He delved under her dressing gown, wanting her bare flesh beneath his hands. With an impatient noise, Laura pulled herself back from their kiss and turned on his lap, settling astride him.

That was enough to send his hunger spiraling almost out of control, and he roughly pulled her dressing gown open and shoved it back off her arms. Freed of that impeding garment, Laura reached down and grasped the hem of her nightshift, stripping it up and off over her head.

He took her in his hands, gliding over her legs, her hips, her narrow waist. The low golden light of the lamp flickered over her pale skin, shadows and light shifting on her as if caressing her. Words crowded his throat, so jumbled and eager he couldn’t say anything. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how deeply desire struck him, but nothing could adequately express it.

So he kissed her, his hands urgent on her body, and they came together in such a rush of passion that he did no more than shuck off his trousers before Laura sank down upon him, taking him into her with a slow deliberation that had him digging his fingers into the arms of the chair.

She began to move on him, a lazy up and down that drove any thought of control from his mind and hurled him, mindless and aching, into a furious explosion. He gazed into her face as the orgasm took him, watching her as the sensual joy swept over her, and it made his own rush harder, longer, more complete.

Laura collapsed against him, breathless. James wrapped his arms around her, unwilling to separate his flesh from hers. Finally, when the air began to grow cold on their damp skin, James carried Laura to her bed. He thought of leaving, the familiar instinct to separate himself tugging at him. But Laura smiled at him, the bedcovers pulled back invitingly, and he lay down beside her.

Later. Right now he was too drowsy and content, the thought of lying with Laura too pleasant. She nestled against his side, one palm resting against his, fingers laced together, and lazily they talked, their conversation haphazard and tinged with laughter, punctuated now and then with a kiss or idle caress.

James awakened some hours later. He had rolled over onto his side, and Laura’s body was a pleasant warmth against his back. He should return to his room now. He sighed, pushing aside the covers, and swung out of bed. He began to gather up his clothes. It seemed a great deal of effort to dress and return to his room. And, really, there was no need for it. He glanced over at the bed and Laura’s sleeping form. Then he tossed the pile of clothes onto the chair and, turning out the lamp on the dresser, he crawled back into bed.

chapter 35

To Laura’s astonishment, a dressmaker arrived on the morning train from London, bringing with her an assistant loaded down with a bag of sample materials and dress designs.

“You simply must have a new gown for the ball,” Tessa explained. “I had thought we might run up to London to order one, but I know you’re reluctant to leave James.” Tessa’s eyes twinkled merrily. “So I thought, why not bring the clothes here instead of the other way around?”

Laughing, Laura agreed. Though she had never been especially interested in fashion, she was not immune to the lure of new dresses. She had enjoyed wearing the gowns Abby had lent her, but a larger variety of gowns made just for her was even more appealing.

Tessa and the other ladies retired to Tessa’s bedroom, shutting the door against the household men, and indulged in an orgy of fashion. While Laura stood for a seemingly interminable time with the dressmaker’s assistant crawling all around her, measuring, the other women clustered on the chaise longue, examining fashion books.

The dressmaker arranged a profusion of materials across the bed for Laura to choose from—because, as Tessa pointed out, while Laura was still in mourning, it would not be terribly long before she could move to half mourning, and wasn’t this light shade of purple luscious?

Laura was at first reluctant to order so many clothes at once; it would be a large expense, and really, she had no need of so many. She had to remind herself that she no longer had to watch pennies, and, given his frequent comments, James was more than willing for her to buy new frocks. Still, she could not be as extravagant as Tessa urged.

Even Patricia was convivial as they bent their heads over the drawings of elegant dresses and discussed bustles and bows and trains. And since Tessa decreed that all of them must order something new for the ball, it was a cheerful group that went down to supper that night.

Preparations for the party went on apace. Laura had wondered how they could possibly need three weeks to put on a ball, but after she saw the frequency with which Tessa changed her mind, she understood why. Laura was content to leave the other women to it. She preferred a walk in the garden or a quiet hour alone with a book or visiting Abby and the baby. Most of all, she preferred spending time with James.

It was this new closeness with her husband, not the prospect of a grand party nor the anticipation of a new wardrobe, that wreathed her days in happiness. While a walk in the garden was pleasant, it became so much more if James strolled with her, holding her hand or draping an arm over her shoulders, stopping now and then to steal a kiss.

James insisted that Laura learn how to ride, for he had in mind to buy her a horse, so they spent part of each morning on horseback. When he first announced his intention, Laura had a few qualms. James, she feared, would be an impatient teacher who required perfection, and she not only had never ridden but was faintly uneasy around horses.

However, he turned out to be surprisingly easygoing, more apt to smile at her mistakes than to lecture. When she expressed her surprise, James looked taken aback, then gave her a wry smile. “Am I really such a tyrant?”

“No. A bit impatient. And perhaps not entirely given to sympathy.”

“Mm. Not entirely.” They rode on in silence for a moment, then he said, “You think I expect too much from people.”

“No. Actually, I think it’s just the opposite. You expect very little of people.”

“And I am rarely disappointed.”

“There. You see? That is just what I mean. You don’t demand that others be responsible; you don’t even assume they could be. You are so good at everything.” He snorted derisively, and Laura frowned at him. “You are. You told me yourself that you understand numbers.”

“Well, yes, I’m good at that. Business things. Not feelings.”