Rhys wrapped his hand around hers and lifted it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her skin. “The flower is a daffodil, the national flower of Wales. This ring has been in my family for some three hundred and fifty years. Every baroness during that time has worn it. It was one of the few things that the Morgan family managed to salvage when the castle burned.”
“I hope to do it honor,” she replied, her voice shaky with emotion.
“If there is one thing, I know about you, Wister York, it’s that you do everything with integrity and grace.” As another kiss found its way to Wister’s lips, Rhys released her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. He nuzzled against her neck and whispered, “Thank you for your wise advice about the castle.”
She pulled back and their gazes met. “I hope you can see my reasons. If we had the money, I would love to see this place reborn, but it would take a king’s ransom.”
“Yes. In fact, it was basically the decision I had already come to, but I wanted your unbiased opinion. You are right. If I try to rebuild the castle, I will effectively ruin the Morgan family. All that I will have left to pass on to our son will be a worthless title.”
Children. She had pushed the dream of having a family to the dark corner of her hopes. While she had been trapped at Kington House, the chance of Wister finding a loving husband had been slim.
Or so she’d thought. Until the morning a Welsh baron had walked into the orchard and sat down beside her. From that very moment, he had stolen her heart.
“Once we get Kington working properly again, then we should look to see what we can do for Carno. Repairs to the tenants’ houses and perhaps building something for the village. A schoolhouse or a moot hall? You are still their lord and we need to remain connected to this place,” she said.
“Which is why I want us to be married here in Carno. Part of the old chapel still remains in the castle grounds, so we can hold the wedding ceremony here. We just need to make a trip back to Newtown to obtain a common license from the archdeacon. He will be available this coming Thursday and has already agreed to perform the service.”
Wister rose up on her toes and placed a soft, enticing kiss on Rhys’s lips. The fact that he knew where and when to get a license meant that his marriage proposal wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing. He had been thinking about it since before they left Kington House. It meant a great deal to know that despite his muddled words, Rhys had already chosen her as his future wife.
“That sounds wonderful. Though I don’t know what Deri will make of it when he discovers that you have beaten him to the altar,” she replied.
“We will have a proper wedding breakfast with him and Sophie in London at Christmas. It will be in place of our annual orphan’s Christmas supper which I am more than happy to retire. I want to take you to town and buy you all the things you will need as Baroness Carno. And to show you off to people.”
Rhys tightened his arms around her once more and Wister felt the telltale hardness of his manhood jutting against her stomach. She was not going to ignore it this time. They were alone in the gatehouse. The nearest people were a good hundred yards or so away in the village. There was no one to disturb them. She rubbed her body against him and gave him her best sultry smile.
He brushed a lock of her dark hair back from her face.
“That is for the future. Right this minute I want to concentrate on us, and the fact that you have far too many clothes on,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you asking for, Baron Carno? I will have you know I am a betrothed woman. I am certain my fiancé will have something to say about your wickedness.”
“Rest assured, your fiancé knows all about being wicked.”
A deep, sexy chuckle was the reply. Rhys nipped at her earlobe and all of Wister’s resolve melted away. There was a ring on her finger, a marriage agreed, and nothing to stop them. It was time to claim him as her very own.
She swiped a hand over the bulge in his trousers and gave a gentle, inviting squeeze. “Rhys. Take me to bed. Make me yours.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Her future husband may well have had his moments of indecisiveness, but now was not one of them. No sooner had the words left her lips than Rhys had scooped Wister up and was carrying her toward the bed.
She was more than happy to let him take the lead. He made swift work of the buttons on the front of her gown, then took her gently into his arms and kissed her. Soft, tender kisses which held a thousand secret promises.
She helped him out of his coat and jacket before toying with the ties of his cravat. “You know this is not my first time. If that is a problem for you, please tell me now,” she said.
He shook his head. “Wister, there is one thing you have always been with me, and that is honest. I am glad you trusted me enough to share your past. But no, it is not a problem for me. It never will be. Besides, it means that you and I can become lovers without either of us having to worry about you being inexperienced.”
She tugged the long white linen of his cravat free and tossed it on the floor, earning herself another long, slow kiss for her efforts. Their mouths fused in a toe-curling encounter that set her pulse racing. There was something about Rhys that she couldn’t get enough of, an attraction she had never felt toward another man.
“Lift your arms,” she whispered.
Grabbing the sides of his shirt, Wister slid it up his body. Rhys helpfully bent and allowed her to pull the garment over his head. When he righted himself, she got her first full view of his naked torso.
No towel to keep your magnificence from my gaze.
Her mouth went dry.
The light dusting of dark hair on his chest had her fingers itching to touch. As she reached out her hand, he shook his head. “No touching until I get to see your breasts. Then you can do with me all you wish.”
Her eyes grew wide and she gasped in mock indignation. “Why, Baron Carno, what would make you think I am going to allow you to view my naked skin?”
“This,” he replied.
He placed a hand either side of her unbuttoned gown and tore it open all the way to the waist, baring her breasts. Before she had time to react, he yanked the skirts down, leaving them to pool at her feet.
Her thick, woolen, and very functional stockings were all that remained.
Wister laughed. “And here was me worrying that you Welsh might be a little reserved when it came to sex.”
He chuckled deeply. “Mae'r holl ddyddiau glawog hynny'n golygu ein bod ni'n treulio llawer o amser y tu mewn.”
“Which means?”
“Lots of days spent inside because of the rain. Fear not, my love, we Welsh know how to spend a long time in bed, and what to do.”
Rhys lifted Wister clear of her gown and lay her on the bed. He then knelt on the floor beside it. Firm hands dragged her bottom to the edge of the mattress. He draped her legs over his shoulders. Heat raced to her cheeks at the prospect of him staring straight at her sex.
“Lie back,” he commanded.
Wister had some sexual experience, but this was something entirely new. Her stockings were peeled from her legs, their warmth replaced with Rhys’s hot lips.
Slowly he worked his way up, crisscrossing kisses back and forth. When the heat of his breath touched the edge of her sex, she gripped the blankets and held on.