Page 24 of How to Seduce a Viscount (Wed Within a Year #3)

What would it be like to be part of this home? To support the running of it for the man who lived within its walls? To raise a family with him? To balance life at Tillingbourne with life within the network? To be part of the Parkhurst clan?

But that was not the promise they’d made each other.

It was supremely difficult to concentrate with the echoes of Luce’s touch so fresh on her body.

Marking her, tempting her to confess her secrets, luring her with dreams of an impossible future.

To no longer be on the outside looking in on all that love and togetherness?

To have an anchor in this world when the earl passed?

To support Luce, to never leave the game?

To be his partner in all levels of his life—his home, his family and his work.

Living in a village with Luce would never be boring.

‘Miss, did you have a preference on the venison or the roast? Mrs Hartley prompted and Wren had the distinct feeling she’d let her thoughts wander in the midst of a question.

‘A roast. You do beef so nicely, Mrs Hartley. Perhaps your gravy to go alongside and one of your syllabubs for dessert?’

Wren recovered only to be distracted once more with the appearance of Luce at the sitting room door, brandishing a note and wearing a smile. ‘What is it?’

‘The vicar has written to ask if we might postpone our supper for a night so that we could all attend the assembly in town. The town officials thought it would be a good idea to offer some impromptu entertainment for all those stranded here by the weather. There will be dancing and refreshment at the Hound and Fox tomorrow evening in the upstairs assembly rooms.’ He flashed her a boyish grin.

‘What do you think? Are you up for a bit of dancing, Wren?’

‘Most definitely.’ Her mind was already reeling with possibilities as she rose, menus forgotten. The vicar’s guests would be there. She could dance with them. In a crowd it would be easy to slip a hand into a pocket…

Luce gripped her forearm and pulled her into the hallway. ‘What are you thinking, Wren?’ his voice was gruff, his gaze stern.

She flashed a feminine smile. ‘What does any girl think of when going to a dance? What am I going to wear? If Mrs Hartley can help me find some ribbon, I can dress up the second gown enough to do for tomorrow. If there are slippers in the attic, perhaps I could borrow them for a night. Slippers never really go out of style and they’ll be hidden beneath my skirts.

’ She shot him an impish grin, meaning to tease him and distract him from reading her true thoughts.

‘Unless of course, someone were to pull my skirts up again. Are there many fifteenth-century tables at the tavern?’

Luce growled appreciably, pressing her to the wall.

‘I love a woman who knows her own mind.’ His mouth was at her ear, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

There was something undeniably erotic about intimacy in a public space where one might be interrupted at any moment.

‘Are you sure you’re not thinking about picking certain guests’ pockets tomorrow night instead of waiting for our supper party? ’

She slipped beneath his arm. ‘No, I was thinking about where I could put my stiletto.’ It wasn’t a lie but she was betting on the remark being too bold to be believable.

Luce’s face broke into a grin. ‘You’re a dreadful tease, Wren Audley.’

‘Are you sure I am teasing?’ She’d found that the bolder the claim, the less likely people were to take it seriously. Even Luce wasn’t sure what to make of it.

‘No stabbing tomorrow, Wren. Just dancing. Promise me?’

‘You’d better make sure I don’t get bored, then. Perhaps they will have an alcove or two we can use between dances, or perhaps we can bring some brandy…’ She paused, delighting in the obsidian darkness of his eyes. ‘For the punch bowl, of course. What did you think I meant?’

Luce grabbed her by the hips and drew her to him. ‘You know very well what you meant, Minx.’ He kissed her hard. ‘You’re insatiable.’

‘As are you.’

‘What a fine pair we are then.’ His gaze lingered and banter was no longer enough to protect her from the reality.

Tonight she’d lie in his arms. Tomorrow they’d dance.

He’d waltz her around the dance floor like she’d always dreamed of.

Dreams really did come true. And like all dreams, this one too would end.

Perhaps if she could give his brother back to him, it would be worth it. This would be her compromise just as Tillingbourne would be his. Partial happiness was better than none at all.

‘Go on, Wren, go see to your gown and slippers.’ He smiled against her mouth, his forehead pressed to hers. ‘I have letters to write, but we’ll dine at seven in the library. Yes?’

‘Yes,’ she answered softly, her breath catching. For a moment she was a real wife— his wife—he was her husband and there were no secrets that would come between them. This was their home and this was their happy ever after—a dream that didn’t end because it had come true.