Page 91 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness

Her nose wrinkled and her brows slanted together. “Because I’d like a single hour to myself, thank you very much.”

“You… you want to be alone?” He held the back of his hand to her forehead, and she pushed him away, laughing.

“An astonishing turn of events, yes. But we have had three days of festivities without stop, and the Castles are talking about staying at the inn through the harvest celebration next week.”

“Do you want to return to London?” They, too, had planned to stay for the harvest celebrations, but—

“No.” She went up on tiptoe and cupped his face. I love your family. I love that you invited the Castles and Armquist and Meredith and Pentshire and Maria.”

“I wanted you to have family here, too. Of some sort, at least.”

She kissed him. “I did not like to be alone when I had no one. The silence reminded me too much of my state. But now that I am surrounded—your mother, your brothers, their wives, our friends—I find being alone quite lovely.”

“Are you sure you don’t still need me to sleep?”

She nudged his nose with her own. “Oh, yes, quite. I’ll always need you to sleep. I love you, Theodore Bromley. But I would very much love, as well, a moment or two alone with you. I had planned to sneak out the window after Mrs. Castle left, sneak into the pub, and catch your attention from a corner, drag you away from them, and—”

“And what, wife? What would you have done with me then?”

She whispered in his ear.

His heart raced, and his body thrummed with desire. He clutched her waist and pulled her flush up against him. “I think we can make that happen.” He pulled her out of the room, kept his voice low. “The dower house is closer than Briarcliff. Let’s go there.” It was a shambles, but Atlas had been cleaning it out to prepare it for renovations. At least one room would be nice and dry. It would suffice for Cordelia’s desired hour.

They ran, laughing, down the stairs and into the night, and when they undressed one another in a small room of the old dower house, their laughter became whispers of love, and Theo found that the thorn he’d thought to pluck from him all those months ago was actually a seed, spreading its roots and tendrils and slowly, surely, cracking open the stony bits of him until nothing but love for this woman bloomed in his heart.

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