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“Denial will mean you’re all the more desperate,” he informed her, grinning. “I haven’t made you truly desperate yet. Maybe we’ll try for longer than two days—”
“Nicholas!” She sat up, so horrified that he adjusted his grip on her to keep her in place. “You wouldn’t.”
“Mia, peace!” He burst out laughing, hauling her to his chest, while she cursed—rather vehemently for such a delicate creature. She sounded like a stableboy.
“No! You absolute fiend. Just boxing me out of your bed for fun—”
“Peace, darling.” He couldn’t stop laughing, and she almost got loose before he recaptured her arm and used a leg to lock her against him. “All right! All right. You like being punished, but not denied? Is that the meaning?”
“I...” Mia relaxed against him with a baffled expression. “Yes?”
He stroked her hair and relaxed his hold, letting her find her own balance and comfortable situation on his lap. “I wouldn’t be able to deny you very long, Mia. You’ll realize that by the end of the week.” He tugged one of her tumbled curls. “Pout those pretty lips, plead with that soft voice. Show me how the bruises are healing, and I’ll be lost.”
Her head canted. “So, I can ask you to...? To play with me?”
That question made his dick twitch, despite how entirely replete he felt. “Yes, you can, love. You can always ask. I may say no.” He stroked her lower lip with his thumb. “But I will always enjoy the request. It’s good to know you want to be fucked as much as I want to fuck you.”
“And tomorrow—”
“You’ll get told no,” he informed her sternly. “You need to heal, love. But ask the day after. I might examine you to determine your fitness.”
By the time they fell into bed, he doubted he’d let go of her even in the morning light. Perhaps he’d have to nurse her through the recovery with kisses, locked in the bedchamber...
The sugary image should’ve irritated him, yet watching Amy sleep, he felt nothing but warmth.
Not until he woke to frantic pounding on the bedroom door, and a stand-off between his footmen and four representatives of Baron Sunderland on the front steps.
“Wear your lowest cut dress. And make sure your hair’s down,” he whispered. Amy clung to his arm, her face a corpse-pale mask of terror. He feared she’d faint if he let go. “Mia. Look at me.” He held her gaze with his own. “Dress like I’ve been tumbling you in the stables. The witness with them will need to believe you may never have been a virgin in your life. Giggle about your new title. Fawn on me. Show them you’re bewitched with marriage.”
A smile showed beneath her tears. “As you wish, my lord.”
****
Nicholas fended off the initial (and expected) accusation from the Sunderland retainers—he had kidnapped Amy, had ruined her without wedding her.
The arguments fell silent as Amy floated through the door in a blue silk dress he recognized as one of Juliet’s, half-laced in the front and just askew enough to suggest it was deliberate. Her hair hung in tousled waves, with a band of muslin serving as a faint excuse for a cap. She smiled at their unannounced guests. “Gentlemen, I’m so glad you’re here to congratulate us.”
A portly man who’d hung back until that moment coughed pointedly. “Miss Sunderland—”
“Viscountess Clarendel,” Nicholas corrected. He extended his arm, and Amy came to his side without hesitation.
“Yes. We need to be sure of the marriage, you see,” the man continued.
“Mr. Wicks, I assure you we are very happily wed. In Gretna Green. I’m sure my husband’s shown you the papers.”
“And you are willing? This was not a kidnapping?”
Amy beamed. “Sir, I practically begged him to take me.”
“My wife knew her own heart from the moment we met. And I knew mine.” Nicholas put a protective hand on her shoulder.
“Then we must offer congratulations, of course,” the witness said with a nod.
“Indeed. I do hope my father will endeavor to forgive our eagerness, Mr. Wicks.” Amy leaned into Nicholas’s side. “I could not wait until the end of the season. Tell him I am sorry for my impetuousness, but I am the happiest woman in England save for the shame of disappointing him.”
“Of course, Lady Clarendel.” The retainer gave her a concerned look but bowed his head in reluctant assent.
Amy insisted the men be given food and time to rest before returning to her father. Nicholas suspected she’d bribed Wicks to pass a letter to her aunt. He watched the men ride off down the lane, keeping his arm tight around Amy’s waist. “My darling. You’re quite an actress.”
