Page 13 of On the Ropes of Scandal (With Love in Their Corner #3)
W illiam paused to wipe his brow, for he’d gone out to a wooded area in order to chop firewood.
Last night, the weather had changed, and it had brought with it a bit of a cold snap, one where his breath clouded about his head in the mornings and evenings.
And it was chilly in the cozy apartment above the bakery.
Couldn’t have the mother of his unborn child feeling cold.
After he’d chopped the final log, he piled the split pieces into a large burlap bag then took up both that and the axe and headed back toward the business district of the village.
The sun had set about an hour ago, and when he’d left, Phoebe hadn’t yet come upstairs from her duties at the bakery.
But now the temperatures had dropped, and he wanted nothing more than to sit in their common room with the fire cheerfully burning behind the plain iron grate and Phoebe in his arms.
As he approached one of the taverns, a man came out of that establishment and nearly careened into William, but quickly corrected himself.
“My apologies.” The tall man touched the brim of his beaver felt top hat. Then he peered closer. “Are you that Stapleton man, the bare-knuckle boxer who fought here a week ago?”
William frowned. “I am not. Merely William Harris.”
“Ah.” The other man nodded. “You have the look of ’im, but then, I suppose anyone would in the dark.”
“Did you, ah, attend the bout?”
“I did! It was a long one, and the fighters were well-matched. Damn, but I always wager on a Stapleton brother if they’re in the ring.”
“Why? I’m not sure I’ve heard that name.” But then, if he had, he wouldn’t have remembered it.
“All the Stapleton brothers are the sons of the legendary George Stapleton, one of the best boxers in the history of the sport. They always put on a good show.” The other man curled his hands into fists and mimicked a few movements.
“Too damn bad Duncan Stapleton, or rather Lord Frampton as he’s known in the ton , lost the last bout.
Gossip holds he disappeared after that fight, too embarrassed to show his face in society again. ”
“He must have lost the match horrifically then.” William settled the back of split logs more comfortably on his shoulder.
“Oh, he did. Went down hard in the last round. I couldn’t believe it.”
He nodded. “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.
” Except, for some odd reason, talking about boxing seemed familiar, as if he were knowledgeable regarding it at some point in his past. As he stood chatting with the other man, the names for movements filtered into his mind, as did the importance of quick footwork.
What the devil did that mean?
“Me neither, and bare-knuckle fighting is quite the talent.” The other man nodded to William as he passed.
“Next time a bout comes to Cranleigh, you should attend. There is something primal about watching two men beat the hell out of each other for nothing more than bragging rights and the roar of the crowd.”
In his head, that exact sound filled his ears as if he were intimately acquainted with just that.
What is happening to me? “I’ll definitely consider it.
Thank you, friend.” Then he continued along the streets until he reached the bakery.
Using his key, he let himself in, locked the door behind him, and went up the narrow wooden stairs to the rooms he shared with his wife.
“Is that you, William?” she called from the bedchamber they shared.
“Yes. Brought in some wood for the fire. The chill in the air is heralding perhaps an early winter.” So saying, he dropped the bag of logs next to the small hearth. “Shall I build up the fire or would you prefer to snuggle beneath blankets?”
“Hmm. There is no doubt a way we can stay warm while in bed, don’t you think?”
Did that mean she was amenable to physical relations tonight? “I do.”
Phoebe came into the common room as she tied the sash of a thin lawn wrapper that matched her ivory night dress. Both garments were well-worn but still pretty and feminine, and they clung to her curves, for her skin was slightly damp. “Thank you for filling the bathtub for me before you went out.”
“You’re welcome.” Damn, but he nearly forgot how to form words as he raked his gaze over her luscious form.
The bathtub she spoke of was half a barrel used for either molasses or whiskey.
No doubt they couldn’t afford a porcelain tub or even one of brass, but it was a simple pleasure his wife enjoyed a couple times a week.
When she came home from the bakery, she was usually exhausted and drained.
“You shouldn’t be on your feet so long in your condition. ”
“Don’t fuss so.” There was a blush in her cheeks as she crossed the room toward him. “It’s early days yet. All is well.”
“Good.” As he removed his greatcoat—Phoebe had told him they’d bought it second hand from a gentleman who needed to cover debts—he watched her as she prowled over the floor.
Those damp curves, the way the thin nightclothes clung to her frame, bewitched his mind, and in the light of the fire and the few lit candles, she was luscious and tempting.
And, God help him, he wanted her. It was as natural as breathing.
This feeling, this desire, he remembered.
It came up through the murky and shadowy depths of his broken brain, but he knew he’d bedded women before.
Of course one of them was his wife; why else as she with child?
It was time to indulge in that exercise again now that his bumps and bruises were well on the way to healing.
“Is that all you would say, Mr. Harris?” she asked with amusement threading through her dulcet tones.
“No, but I don’t want to spook you.” Needing something to occupy his mind lest he give into his urges and take her on the low table like an animal, William took her hand and pulled her into the bedchamber they shared.
“I rather doubt anything you could say or do would do that. Haven’t we been married for months, and have known each other for even longer?”
“I will take your word for it.” As soon as he skirted around the bathtub, he brought her over to the cheval glass. It had a few cloudy spots, but most of the glass was still usable. “On my way home, I spoke with a fellow who talked about bare-knuckle boxing. Said I put him in mind of a boxer.”
“Oh?” A guarded expression flitted over her face. “Why did he think so?”
“I have no idea.” He shrugged. “Perhaps I have one of those faces, but it got me to thinking about boxing and how familiar it seems to me.”
“Well, you might have enjoyed watching bouts before you and I got together.”
“That could be it.” But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more of that.
As if boxing had meant something deeper to him at one time.
Not knowing, he held her close. “How was I fortunate enough to land a woman as beautiful as you?” he whispered with his lips against the shell of her ear as he peered into the glass, meeting her gaze there.
“No doubt it will remain a mystery.” Though she smiled at him, shadows clouded her eyes, and he couldn’t puzzle out why. “Let us just say it was fate.”
He slipped his arms about her waist then pulled her backside flush against his front. “If you had to do it all over again, would you?”
Would he?
“Of course.” She dropped her gaze and rested her hands over his. “You are the first man in my life who hasn’t disappointed me.” A waver set up in her voice. “And you haven’t left me as the rest of my family has, so yes, I would make the same decisions that I did which led me to you.”
That was an odd admission, but he supposed he couldn’t fault her for that.
“Perhaps in time, we can make the bakery more profitable than it currently is, and when your aunt decides to retire, we will have the coin to buy our own cottage or perhaps even take a trip to Brighton.” Above all, he wanted to give his wife everything that she deserved.
“I would like that very much.” A sigh escaped her. “Do you ever dream of being someone else, someone more successful or high in society?”
“I haven’t recently, but I can’t speak to the rest of my life that I can’t remember.
” Needing to see more of her body, William manipulated the sash of her robe, and when it gaped open, he encouraged it down her arms and torso, and then finally off her form.
A groan rose in his throat, for the outline of her hardened nipples was evident behind her damp and clinging night dress.
“And what would I do if I were a gentleman about Town? Don’t I have all that I need here in Cranleigh? ”
“I hope you do and that you truly believe that.” She leaned back against him and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “We have a happy life even if we aren’t excessively wealthy or titled as the members of the beau monde are.”
“One doesn’t need all of that to enjoy what they have.
” Quickly, he turned her about in his arms, pulled her close, and kissed her.
Ah, yes, her lips, the warmth of her, the floral scent of her was definitely familiar.
“How often do you and I share intimacy?” he asked, and with every word, his lips brushed hers.
She fiddled with the buttons on his jacket as a blush stained her cheeks. “As often as we need to, but I especially adored what you did to me beneath the oak trees.”
“Ah. Then I’ll be certain to give you a repeat performance.” He briefly cupped her cheek. It was far too obvious they needed to chase carnal activities more often. “Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes sparkled as if they were gemstones in the sun. “But I want to explore you as well.”