Page 17 of Marquess of Stone (Braving the Elements #2)
One Year Later
“You are certain no one can see us from the house?” Marian asked, her voice carrying that particular blend of excitement and apprehension that had become delightfully familiar to Nicholas over the past year of marriage. She stood at the lake’s edge, sunlight dancing across the surface of the water before her while dappled shadows from overhead branches played across her face.
“Entirely certain,” Nicholas replied, his deep voice carrying easily across the small distance between them. “The lake lies beyond the view of even the highest windows, and I have given explicit instructions that we are not to be disturbed for any reason short of the house catching fire.”
June had returned to Derbyshire, bringing with it the anniversary of their wedding and a warmth that transformed the grounds of Stone Manor into a private paradise of verdant abundance. The lake, nestled in a secluded hollow surrounded by ancient oaks and flowering shrubs, sparkled like a sapphire against the emerald setting of perfectly maintained lawns and wild meadows beyond.
Marian glanced down at herself, still adjusting to the scandalous reality of standing outdoors in nothing but her chemise and petticoat. The thin fabric clung to her curves in a manner that drew Nicholas’ appreciative gaze, a fact that brought a becoming flush to Marian’s cheeks despite their year of marital intimacy.
“You are staring, My Lord,” she observed, her tone managing to convey both primness and unmistakable pleasure at his attention.
“I’m admiring,” Nicholas corrected, moving toward her with the fluid grace that still captivated her, his own state of undress far more pronounced than hers. He had dispensed with his shirt entirely, wearing only drawers that ended just above his knees, revealing muscled calves and broad shoulders that owed their impressive condition to regular physical exercise rather than fashionable indolence.
Water lapped gently against the shore as a light breeze stirred the surface of the lake, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass. In the distance, birds called to one another with melodic enthusiasm, their songs punctuating the otherwise perfect tranquility of the summer afternoon.
“Shall we begin your lesson?” Nicholas asked, extending his hand toward her with formal courtesy that contrasted delightfully with the informality of their attire.
Marian placed her fingers in his, the simple contact sending familiar warmth cascading through her despite the coolness of the impending water. “I still maintain that humans were not designed for aquatic endeavors,” she remarked, allowing him to guide her forward until the water reached her ankles then her calves, the temperature eliciting a small gasp despite the summer heat.
“A hypothesis we shall test empirically,” Nicholas replied, his tone carrying the particular warmth reserved solely for her. “The scientific method demands practical experimentation, does it not?”
“Using my potential drowning as your experimental design seems questionable at best,” Marian observed though the smile playing at the corners of her mouth belied any genuine apprehension. “I believe proper scholarship recommends starting with literary research.”
Nicholas’ laugh — a sound that had become increasingly frequent over the course of their marriage — rippled across the water’s surface. “We have conducted extensive theoretical discussions on the principles of buoyancy and propulsion. Today we advance to practical application.” His hand tightened reassuringly around hers as they moved deeper, the water now reaching her waist. “Besides, I have no intention of allowing any harm to befall my favorite research partner.”
The water embraced them with liquid coolness, a welcome contrast to the summer heat that had driven them to seek refuge in the lake rather than the stuffier confines of the house. Marian’s chemise billowed around her like the petals of a water lily, the fabric becoming translucent where it clung to her skin.
“Now,” Nicholas instructed, his voice taking on the patient quality she had come to associate with his role as her swimming tutor, “remember what we practiced in the bath. Extend your arms as I showed you, and allow your body to relax into the water’s support.”
Marian complied, her movements careful and precise as she extended her arms and leaned forward, feeling the strange dual sensation of vulnerability and support as the water carried more of her weight. Nicholas’ hands remained steady beneath her, one at the small of her back and the other just below her shoulder blades — a reassuring presence that allowed her to focus on the mechanics of movement rather than the fear of sinking.
“Excellent,” he murmured as she began to kick her feet in the gentle rhythm he had taught her, creating small splashes that caught the sunlight like scattered diamonds. “You are a natural aquatic creature after all, it seems.”
“Hardly,” Marian gasped, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she blinked up at him. “Though I confess the sensation is not entirely unpleasant.”
Nicholas maintained his supportive hold as she practiced the motions, his touch simultaneously practical and intimate — a teacher’s guidance combined with a lover’s appreciation for the form beneath his hands. Gradually, as her confidence grew, he reduced the pressure of his support until she was floating with only the lightest contact from his fingertips.
“I’m doing it,” she exclaimed, surprise and delight mingling in her voice as she realized how little she now depended on his assistance. “Nicholas, I’m actually swimming!”
“So you are,” he agreed, pride evident in his expression as he observed her progress. “Another item thoroughly mastered from your original list.”
Marian’s laughter bubbled up, as bright and refreshing as the spring that fed the lake. “The list has been complete for a year now,” she reminded him, her feet finding purchase on the lake bottom as she stood upright once more, water streaming from her hair in rivulets that traced the contours of her neck and shoulders.
“Perhaps,” Nicholas acknowledged, moving closer until barely a hand’s breadth separated them, water lapping at their waists in gentle rhythm. “Yet I find myself continually discovering new experiences I wish to share with you.”
The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver through Marian despite the warmth of the day, her body responding to his proximity with the same eager awareness that had characterized their relationship from its earliest days. Water droplets clung to Nicholas’s eyelashes, emphasizing the deep blue of his eyes — a color that reminded her of the lake itself, containing unexpected depths beneath a seemingly calm surface.
“And what experiences might those be, My Lord?” she asked, her voice dropping to match the intimate nature of their conversation despite the open air surrounding them.
Nicholas lifted a hand from the water, drops falling like liquid crystal as he brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek with exquisite tenderness. “I find myself contemplating the acoustics of water,” he mused, his fingertips lingering against her skin in a caress that carried familiar promise.
“Acoustics?” Marian raised an eyebrow, curiosity temporarily overriding the pleasant distraction of his touch. “A rather esoteric area of scientific inquiry.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, his voice carrying that particular blend of intellectual engagement and sensual intent that had first drawn her to him. “I find myself wondering, for instance, how sound travels across water — whether a kiss beneath the summer sky might echo differently here than in the confines of our bedchamber.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the June sunshine flooded Marian’s cheeks as she recognized the direction of his thoughts. “A hypothesis that requires testing,” she suggested, her own hands rising to rest against the solid warmth of his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken beneath her palm.
“Precisely my thinking,” Nicholas murmured, closing the remaining distance between them with deliberate slowness. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her against him with a care that acknowledged both the slippery footing beneath them and the precise nature of their current pursuit.
When his lips finally met hers, the contact carried both the familiar comfort of a year’s intimacy and the surprising spark that had never diminished between them. Marian’s arms wound around his neck, her body arching instinctively into his embrace as water lapped against them, creating a gentle counterpoint to the more urgent rhythm of their hearts.
The kiss deepened, Nicholas’ hands splaying across her back to hold her more securely against him as her fingers threaded through his damp hair. Time seemed to suspend itself around them — the birds, the breeze, the gentle movement of the water all receding from consciousness as they lost themselves in the simple joy of connection.
When they finally separated, both breathing faster than the gentle exertion warranted, Nicholas rested his forehead against hers in a gesture of intimate affection that had become as natural as breathing over the course of their marriage.
“I believe,” he observed, his voice carrying a hint of the roughness that betrayed his arousal despite his attempt at academic objectivity, “that the hypothesis requires further investigation.”
Marian’s laugh carried across the water’s surface, bright with genuine happiness. “Such dedication to scientific inquiry is to be commended,” she replied, her hands sliding to his shoulders with deliberate appreciation of the muscle beneath her fingertips. “Though perhaps we should consider relocating our experimental venue.”
Nicholas’ answering smile held equal parts tenderness and desire. “I confess the lake bottom presents certain practical challenges that might interfere with proper methodology.”
They made their way back to shore with reluctant steps, the water releasing them gradually from its cool embrace as they emerged onto the sun-warmed grass of the bank. A blanket had been thoughtfully spread beneath the shade of an ancient oak, evidence of Nicholas’s careful planning for their afternoon’s activities.
As they settled onto the blanket, Nicholas pulled Marian into his arms once more, droplets of water mingling between them as their bodies pressed close. The dappled sunlight filtering through the oak’s leaves created patterns across their skin like living lace, nature’s own decoration far more beautiful than any human adornment.
“It has been quite a year, hasn’t it?” Marian observed, her head resting against his shoulder as contentment settled around them like a protective mantle. “Far more adventurous than I could have anticipated when I first created that ridiculous list.”
Nicholas’ fingers traced idle patterns along her arm, leaving paths of pleasant sensation in their wake. “I find myself eternally grateful for that list,” he admitted, his voice carrying the particular depth that emerged when he spoke from the heart rather than the calculating mind society attributed to him. “Without it, we might never have discovered each other beneath our respective facades.”
“The bluestocking and the businessman,” Marian mused, smiling at the labels that had once seemed so definitive yet now encompassed only the smallest fraction of who they were to each other. “Who would have thought we’d find such perfect partnership?”
“Elias, apparently,” Nicholas replied dryly, drawing another laugh from her. “Though I shall never admit to him how thoroughly his manipulations succeeded.”
“Speaking of manipulation,” Marian said, shifting slightly to look up at her husband’s face, “have you received any correspondence from Jane regarding her ongoing battle of wits with the Duke of Myste? Her last letter to me was remarkably evasive on the subject which suggests developments worth noting.”
Nicholas’s expression shifted to one of amused speculation. “The duke requested my opinion on certain financial matters last month — a transparent excuse to inquire about your sister’s planned attendance at Lady Hertford’s summer assembly. I believe the intellectual skirmish continues unabated though whether it will result in detente or all-out war remains to be determined.”
“Poor Diana finds it all terribly romantic,” Marian confided, settling back against him with comfortable familiarity. “She’s convinced they’re reenacting our own courtship with additional scholarly flourishes.”
“God help Riverstone if that’s the case,” Nicholas murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “The man has no idea what forces he’s provoking.”
Their conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, the afternoon warmth and the gentle sounds of nature creating a cocoon of tranquility around them. Nicholas’s fingers continued their exploration of her arm, his touch conveying affection rather than passion as they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together without demands or expectations.
“I have been thinking,” Marian said finally, her voice carrying a note that immediately captured Nicholas’s full attention — the particular tone that signaled an idea of significance, “about creating a new list.”
“Indeed?” Nicholas’s interest was evident in the slight shift of his posture, his body angling toward hers with instinctive responsiveness. “What sort of adventures might this one contain?”
Marian’s hand found his, their fingers intertwining with practiced ease as she guided it to rest against her abdomen — a gesture whose significance registered in Nicholas’s expression with dramatic immediacy. His eyes widened, questions and wonder replacing his usual composed certainty.
“Marian?” he asked, her name carrying volumes of inquiry in its single utterance.
“The physician confirmed it yesterday,” she replied, watching his face with tender attention as the implications registered fully. “It seems we have approximately seven months to prepare for an entirely new category of adventures.”
Joy transformed Nicholas’s features, erasing the last vestiges of the calculating businessman society had once believed comprised the whole of his character. With gentle reverence, his hand spread across her stomach, the gesture protective and wondering in equal measure.
“A child,” he whispered, the words emerging with such naked emotion that Marian felt tears prick at her eyes in response. “Our child.”
“A scholar-in-training,” she agreed, her own voice unsteady with the weight of shared happiness. “Though whether they’ll inherit your head for figures or my preference for literature remains to be seen.”
“Either way,” Nicholas murmured, drawing her closer against him as sunlight continued to dance across their intertwined forms, “they shall grow up knowing that life’s greatest adventure lies in finding one’s own path rather than following prescribed expectations.”
As his lips found hers once more, Marian surrendered to the perfect contentment of the moment — the warmth of the summer day, the solid strength of her husband’s embrace, and the promise of new life growing within her creating a tapestry of happiness more complex and satisfying than anything she could have imagined when she first penned her list of forbidden experiences.
The lake sparkled beyond them, its surface catching the afternoon sunlight like a thousand scattered diamonds — a fitting backdrop to the continuing story of two individuals who had found in each other not limitation but liberation, not constraint but possibility, not an ending but an endless series of beginnings.
The End