He dropped a kiss on the back of her head. “We may live wherever you like, but I’ll need to go back and forth to Manhattan for some business matters. You could stay here and concentrate on your tennis while I’m gone.”
“I don’t care for your making these decisions without me. You haven’t asked me what I’d like to do.”
“What would you like to do?”
“Come with you.”
How could he complain? He’d have access to her almost anytime he liked while he bankrupted his family. “As soon as I rent a place, I’ll send for you.”
“No need for that. We can stay at my parents’ house, at least until Nationals. They’ll remain here for the summer, so the house is just sitting empty.”
“Good idea.”
Done with talking, he let his hand slip below the water, his fingers sliding into her folds. She inhaled sharply and threw her head back, conveniently exposing her neck for his mouth. He tasted her smooth skin with his lips and tongue, certain he’d never get enough. She squirmed against his groin and his cock swelled, the stupid organ not realizing she would be too sore to go again tonight. That was perfect, though, because he wanted to feel her climax on his tongue one more time.
He stood and lifted her out of the tub, water cascading all around them. “I like this compromise, this give-and-take in our marriage. And right now, wife, I’m in the mood to give.”
New York City
Eighty-Second Street and Fifth Avenue
Maddie was unpacking in her room when Preston and Kit were announced. She wasn’t surprised that Harrison’s friends had shown up this afternoon. They were likely worried she’d followed through on her threat to strangle her new husband last night after the wedding.
The impulse hadn’t lasted long. He’d quickly rid her of her anger . . . and her clothes.
Her lower half gave a sore but satisfied squeeze at the reminder.
After her tennis practice this morning, they had bid farewell to Maddie’s parents and returned to the city. Harrison was anxious to settle some “business matters” here, though he hadn’t explained them other than to say it was about his trust fund. Fortunately, Maddie’s tennis coach was amenable to coming back as well, so her practices would continue uninterrupted. With Nationals just weeks away, there wasn’t a moment to lose.
By the time she made it downstairs, the three men were in the smoking room, a cloud of cigar smoke hanging in the air.
“There she is,” Kit said, putting down his cigar and rising. “You let your husband live, I see.”
“The day is still young.” She let him kiss her cheek, then turned to their other friend. “Hello, Preston. We missed you in Newport.”
If Kit was the life of every party, Preston Clarke was the organizer of said party. He was a planner and a builder, a force of nature. Using money he inherited from his grandmother, Preston was currently reshaping the Manhattan skyline, much to his parents’ disapproval.
Tall with coal-black hair, Preston towered over her as he kissed her cheek. “If I had known there was going to be a wedding, I would have found the time. I hear it was quite the weekend up there, Mrs. Archer.”
Harrison took her hand and pulled her close. “You have no idea. There were games, Preston. Games.”
“As I recall you enjoyed some of those games.” She poked his arm.
Kit pointed at them, his gaze turning speculative as he retook his seat. “I knew something happened in that changing room.”
Maddie could feel heat working its way under her skin, along the back of her neck. “I’ll never tell.”
Preston motioned to the lit cigar in the crystal ashtray. “Will this bother you?”
“No,” she answered. “Besides, I don’t plan on staying long. I have some errands to run.”
Kit cleared his throat and exchanged a strange look with Harrison. “Like visiting friends?”
She frowned. “I need to order a few things from Lord and Taylor’s, if you must know. But now I have to wonder why you are asking.”
The mood in the room shifted, growing serious, and Kit and Preston turned to Harrison, as if waiting for him to explain. Her husband grimaced. “Probably best if you wait a few weeks before going out on social calls, Mads.”
A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. “Why?”
“The last few days have caused a bit of a brouhaha.”
The duke. The scandal. How could she have forgotten? She had been living in a bubble of unexpected happiness when the rest of the city was agog at her shocking behavior. She slumped in her chair. “Oh.”
“It’s not so bad,” Kit rushed to say. “You know how these old biddies get.”
Preston blew out a stream of smoke. “Exactly. Don’t give it a second thought, Maddie.”
As if that was possible. “Was it mentioned in the morning papers?”
No one spoke for a long, terrifying moment, which was an answer in itself. She looked at her husband. “Have you seen it? What did they say?”
“You shouldn’t worry over it. Focus on tennis and getting settled here for the next few weeks.”
Wrong answer.
Without waiting for anyone to give her the truth, she went to the bell and rang.
“Maddie, please,” Harrison called after her. “Why do you care what anyone thinks?”
She ignored him and waited at the door. A footman appeared seconds later. “William, please bring me the morning papers.”
The footman cast a nervous glance across the room at Harrison. Had her husband given orders to keep the papers away from her? She moved to block the footman’s view of the room. “William, the papers. Now, please.”
When she returned to her seat, the men were watching her warily. “Perhaps we should go,” Preston said cautiously to Kit, “and leave the two lovebirds alone.”
“Stay where you are,” Maddie ordered. “If anyone is leaving, it’s me.”
“Since when do you pay attention to the gossip columns?” Harrison asked. “New York society means nothing outside these twenty or thirty blocks on the island.”
Not true—and he knew it. Otherwise, why try and hide the papers from her?
William returned with an armful of newsprint. He handed the stack to Maddie, then gave Harrison a glance that looked suspiciously like an apology. Maddie couldn’t worry about her husband’s high-handedness at the moment. She had bigger worries, like what was being said about her all over town.
She flipped to the “Town Talk” column, assuming it would be the worst of the lot.
NEWPORT SURPRISE WEDDING
A popular heiress has married the youngest Mr. A______ last evening in a private ceremony at the bride’s parents’ home. This comes as quite the surprise, as she made no secret of her pursuit of a certain duke this past spring, finally landing His Grace’s attentions and dashing hopes up and down Fifth Avenue.
From all reports, the future bride and groom spent their time on long walks and swims alone at night, forgetting, one supposes, that she had accepted the duke’s proposal just hours before. Perhaps this second son of a venerable Manhattan family tired of trying to earn a fortune and decided to marry one instead. We only hope this tainted brush does not paint an unflattering picture of New York’s girls across the pond.