She wanted to trace her fingertips along the muscles of his chest, the deep planes of his belly, and the slope that ran from his abdomen past his groin to his hip. It was an alluring piece of the male anatomy, and in the end, she couldn’t keep from touching him there.
“Sabrina?”
She looked up to see his eyes were now open, slitted, as he regarded her over the length of his torso. “Mmm?”
“Unless you want to arouse another, ah, interlude, you should perhaps go to sleep.”
She thought a second “interlude” sounded rather wonderful. But she was too distracted by what he’d said about sleep. “You’ll allow me to stay?”
His eyes opened more. “If you want to.”
That he’d invited her into his chamber had been surprising enough, but to extend that invitation to spending the entire night was more than she’d expected. Then again, all of this was more than she’d ever expected.
Emotion bloomed and filled her heart. She pressed herself against him, her hand on his chest. Rising slightly, she kissed him gently, her lips sliding briefly over his. “I want to.”
“Stay or have another go?” The look in his eyes was so hopeful and the smile teasing his lips so alluring that she had to swallow against the lump gathering in her throat. This was all too perfect.
She slid her hand up to his neck and gave him her sauciest grin. “Both.”
“Minx.” He pushed her to her back and kissed her, his hand skimming along her side.
Sleep, as it happened, was fleeting.
It was past midnight when Constantine arrived home the following evening, exhausted and frustrated, from Westminster. He instantly brightened as he saw his wife walking into the house.
Bounding from the coach with more energy than he’d possessed a moment before, he strode inside just as she was about to leave the foyer.
“Sabrina,” he called, halting her progress.
She turned, her eyes alight as her lips curved into a warm, welcoming smile that stirred his cock. “You’re just getting home?”
He nodded. “It was a very long day. Would you care to take madeira with me in my study?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
They walked together, their arms brushing, and Constantine could scarcely believe this was his marriage, his wife. “How was your evening?” he asked, looking askance at her aquamarine gown and thinking it made her eyes shimmer like the sea on a summer day.
“Quite pleasant, thank you, though I was rather tired.” She sent him a provocative glance, and any plan he had of leaving her alone tonight to let her rest evaporated.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go upstairs?”
She laughed softly as they reached his study. “You can’t mean in order to sleep.”
“Actually, I did.”
“Then you shouldn’t be removing my clothing with your gaze.”
Smiling, he shook his head as he crossed to the sideboard to pour the madeira. “How did you become so skilled at flirtation? I never would have imagined it when I met you.”
“I don’t know that I’m all that skilled. I look for ways to lighten the mood or to make you smile. I suppose that comes across as flirting.”
He turned and found that she’d taken a seat in one of the chairs near the hearth. Delivering her wineglass, he tapped his against it before sitting opposite her.
“You try to make me smile?”
“I resolved to do so when I came to town. But don’t give me credit for wanting to. My goal was to ease my nerves. If you smiled more, I hoped I could relax.”
He grimaced, thinking he was a terrible, self-centered beast. “That you were in a position of discomfort because of me fills me with a remorse I can’t adequately express.” He clutched the wineglass and took a sip, hoping to calm the sudden roiling inside him.
“You mustn’t take all the blame. Even if you’d been a cheerful sort, I likely would still have been afraid. It’s taken me this much time to even want to try to emerge from the shadows.” She looked down at her wine. “I don’t think I was ready before.”
“Then we must be grateful for this moment in time when we have met and joined together as we were meant to.”
Her head lifted, her gaze meeting his. “That’s a lovely sentiment.” She lifted her glass. “To this moment in time.”
He raised his madeira, then took another drink while she did the same. “I forget what you were doing tonight. My apologies.”
She set her glass down on the hearth while she removed her gloves. “Another ball. And I am happy to report that your sister seemed to have a successful dance with Lord Glastonbury. She’s been encouraging gentlemen to call—with great subtlety, of course—in the hope that if someone, or preferably a few someones, pays a call, your father will stop being such a nuisance. He nags her almost daily about securing a husband.”
Constantine heard what she said, but he’d been far too fixated on the simple yet seductive act of her removing her gloves. By the time she draped them over the arm of the chair and retrieved her madeira, he was shifting in his seat to try to keep his erection at bay.
“Do you know Glastonbury?” she asked.
“Not well.” Constantine was aware that the viscount was a pugilist and quite a good one. “He boxes at a club near Covent Garden, I believe.”
“Will your father find him to be a satisfactory suitor?”
Blowing out a breath, Constantine lifted a shoulder. “That is like trying to guess tomorrow’s wind direction. I’ll do some investigating.”
“I would appreciate that, thank you.”
Constantine sipped his madeira, his gaze trapped for a moment by the fire in the grate. How domestic and satisfying this was, sitting here discussing mundane issues that were actually not mundane. “How are the preparations for the ball?”
“They’re going surprisingly well, considering the amount of time we’ve had to get everything finished.”
“Good.” Constantine wanted nothing more than his wife’s first ball to be a rousing success. He didn’t want anyone to doubt her, not his father or her family, and least of all herself.
“How are things at Westminster?” she asked. “You’ve been working awfully hard.”
“I have.” He pressed his lips together in a not-quite frown as he recalled the events of the day.
“Did something happen today? You seem…disappointed. When I mentioned Westminster,” she clarified.
He sent her a look of mild surprise. “You can tell?”
“I think I’m coming to know you.”
Yes, she was, and he was inordinately pleased by that revelation. He worked at focusing on that instead of today’s potential setback. “The Apothecaries’ Company exempted the druggists from the bill. While this prompted the druggists to withdraw their opposition, I am not certain it bodes well.”
Her brow creased. “Because they should not be exempted?”
“Not in my opinion. We must find compromise, but exemption is not the answer. I suppose I shouldn’t be disappointed—not yet anyway. However, I’ve seen how this endeavor has gone over the last many years, and it’s hard not to feel defeated.”