There was a surprisingly naughty chuckle, and Ludo gave himself over to the most exquisite torture of his life as his wife practised the art of driving him out of his mind. She was a quick study, and it was an embarrassingly short time before his body grew tight, his mind blank and emptied of any thought except the pleasure she gave him.
“B-Bunty,” he said, trying to force her name out, to warn her, but his lust-addled brain could not form words. Ludo gave a hoarse cry and sank his hands into her hair, too far gone to stop, to do anything but give in to the orgasm that rolled through him with the force of a tidal wave.
It took him a long moment to come back to himself, leaning on the wall beside him to keep himself upright, for his knees felt ready to buckle. Dazed, he focused on his wife with difficulty, but did not miss the smug expression that curved her lush mouth as she looked up at him from under her lashes.
“My word,” Ludo managed, wondering if he might sit down for a moment. “I’ve created a monster.”
Bunty snorted and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, no doubt to cover up her delighted smile at having brought him practically to his knees.
“Don’t make out like you’re sorry,” she said, grinning at him.
Ludo gave in. He sat heavily down in the nearest chair and quickly divested himself of breeches and boots. He turned a wicked expression on his wife and shook his head. “Oh, no. Not the least bit sorry, love, but… turnabout is fair play.”
Bunty, correctly interpreting the look in his eyes, scrambled to her feet with a little shriek as Ludo lunged for her and swept her up into his arms and over one shoulder. Feeling rather like a caveman returning home with his spoils, he dumped her on the bed, where she bounced invitingly on the mattress before he climbed over her.
“L-Ludo,” she said, wagging a warning finger at her. “If you m-make me scream, I’ll never be able to leave this room, I’ll be so mortified….”
“I always make you scream,” he retorted, making short work of the buttons on her bodice. “And I can live with that. There seem to be advantages to keeping you in my bed at all hours.”
“I’ll never be able to look Mrs Widdershins in the eye again. Nor her husband!” she said, covering her face with her hands.
“You’ll get over it,” Ludo said placidly. “And the rest of the household will just have to get used to it. I may be married, but I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Oh, you’re—”
“Dreadful,” he supplied for her, giving a happy sigh as he exposed her lovely breasts. “Wicked, depraved, utterly reprehensible….”
“Marvellous,” Bunty said closing her eyes, a blissful curve to her lips. “The best, best husband anywhere in the world… ever.”
Ludo cupped her breasts. You lucky bastard, he thought, grinning.
“So… you do want me to make you scream, then?” he asked, all innocence.
Bunty cracked open one eye. “Well, obviously. What are you waiting for, Christmas?”
Ludo gave a bark of laughter and shook his head. “Certainly not, love. I am yours to command. So… prepare yourself.”
He flung her skirts over her head and wondered how his heart could contain everything he felt as Bunty laughed, and then squealed. She laughed louder still when he pressed a kiss to her stomach, then blew a wet raspberry against her skin. She squirmed and wriggled, and Ludo stared down at her in wonder.
“I love you,” he said, serious for just a moment. “And this will be the best Christmas ever.”
Bunty shook her head, smiling up at him, her dark eyes filled with adoration.
“No. Only the first of many best evers,” she said.
Ludo nodded, seeing the certainty in her eyes and believing it.
“Our first best ever, then. The first of many,” he said.
Bunty nodded, and he moved up the bed to kiss her tenderly.
“I love you too, by the way,” she said, stroking his face. “In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, because he knew now, because he believed he was loved, and wanted, and belonged. “But don’t ever stop telling me.”
He kissed her again, long and slow, and then sat up, staring down at her with a devilish smile.
“Now then, where was I?”
“Making me scream?” Bunty suggested.
Ludo nodded gravely. “Ah, yes. Husbandly duties. Let’s see if we can melt all the snow on the roof, shall we?”
Ludo settled back to his work and, whilst they might not have melted all the snow, he certainly made his wife scream, and laugh, and love him all the more.
Epilogue
“Wherein there are roses at Christmas.”
Five years later…
Russell House, Kent
December 24, 1825
Bunty looked around the dining room with satisfaction. The silver and crystal glittered in the light of the Yule candle that Ludo had lit for her at sunset, as tradition demanded. Her parents were here, having long since come to terms with her wedding to Ludo. That their daughter’s marriage was a success was something the most cynical of critics would have been hard pressed to deny. Ludo’s business had gone from strength to strength, in no small part due to Bunty suggesting they give away some of the puzzles to the most elevated members of the ton. Ludo had been sceptical, remarking wryly that they were supposed to sell the things, not give them away, or he’d be bankrupt in short order. However, the tactic had worked marvellously, as those mamas who saw the likes of the Marchioness of Winterbourne’s children playing happily with such a toy rushed out to get one for their own little darlings.
Ludo had also finally given in and allowed Bunty to send one of his paintings to Henry Barbour. The response from the man himself had been no surprise to Bunty, who had long been aware of her husband’s many talents, but had stunned Ludo. To have such an acclaimed artist so thoroughly endorse his work had been the boost to his confidence he had needed, and he had agreed to submit a piece to the Royal Academy’s summer exhibition. If Bunty had been any prouder, she would have crowed.
This Christmas they had a house full, having persuaded Mr and Mrs Middleton and their youngest daughter to come and stay. Mr Middleton’s eldest four girls were now married and off his hands, and the man’s relief was palpable. So only young Betsy remained. She was almost nineteen and would likely spend the entire holiday making sheep’s eyes at Ludo, but Bunty could hardly blame the girl. Besides which, it would do her no good, for Ludo only had eyes for Bunty. It seemed extraordinary, especially after five years and three children, but he could find no fault with her and loved her to her bones. After so many years of finding fault with everything about herself, it was little short of miraculous to Bunty, and she never took his adoration for granted.
A blast of frigid air from the hallway announced his arrival home, and Bunty hurried out to greet him. Their eldest boy, Luca, had wide, dark eyes like his mother, and his father’s thick dark curls and Mediterranean looks. The child was stamping his feet and leaving chunks of melting snow on the floor with a gleeful grin.
“Look, Mama,” he said, holding out a fistful of mistletoe. “Papa said you’d have to kiss us if we brought some home.”