Page 78 of Rogue of My Heart

“His most recent doctor had told us that his death was likely approaching. He has difficulty swallowing and breathing at times. If he gets a lung sickness, it would likely kill him.” She exhaled slowly. “I know it’s probably time. He’s suffered for so many years. And my poor mother. But I don’t suppose one is very ready to say goodbye to their Papa.” She sniffed.

“He retired from Society long ago, and for the most part, people don’t even ask about him, except to inquire about his health. That’s been our story for years. That he has failing health. He’s nearly two decades older than my mother so I suppose no one is surprised.”

Edmond found himself nodding. That was what he and Willow told everyone about their mother as well. She was still vibrant enough to enjoy Society functions, but with them never knowing—from one day to the next—how she’d behave, they couldn’t risk it. In her most lucid moments, she even agreed with them.

“Your mother told me that’s why you always said ‘no’ to the proposals. Is that true?” he asked.

She sucked in a breath and was quiet for several moments. “Yes,” she whispered. Then she leaned up and met his gaze.

She was close enough to kiss. For him to lean forward and press his lips to hers. Instead he dipped down and placed a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose.

He squeezed her shoulder. “How much has Willow shared about our mother?”

A crease formed in between her brows. “Only that she’s been ill for a while.”

He nodded, stared at her lips some more. What the hell was wrong with him that he was thinking about putting his mouth all over her, rather than the comfort she needed? He was a randy bastard who hadn’t been rutting his new bride the way he’d been supposed to, that’s what was wrong.

Thankfully, she laid her head back down, taking with her the proximity of her mouth. It would be easier to not kiss her like this. He already was partially holding his breath, hoping she wouldn’t move her leg over the lower part of his body. One touch and she’d know he was aroused.

Back to the conversation about his mother, which should douse his lust. “She has hysteria. All her life, but evidently things became worse after she had us. I think the stress on her body.” He found himself stroking the outer edge of her bare arm. “She was the most fun when we were children. Behaving much like a child herself. She came up with the best games for us to play. But then she’d suddenly and inexplicably have bad days. She’d become paranoid, frightened of her own shadow, frightened of irrational things for Willow and myself. Somedays the tears were incessant.” He understood the lengths one would go to protect a parent.

“I never knew,” Charlotte whispered. “Willow never said anything.”

“We don’t talk about it much, so I’m not surprised Willow never told you. I believe Amelia knows more, but only because Amelia has a way about her, interjecting herself into your life without you even noticing until she’s there. Like a wart.”

Charlotte released a giggle. “That’s not very nice.”

“I mean it with all the fondness of a brother towards his younger sister.”

“Is that how you think of me? As a sister?”

He chuffed out a breath. “No, Charlotte, that’s not at all how I think of you.”

She was quiet for several moments, and he would have sworn she’d fallen asleep. But then she spoke again. “Do you want me to go back to my own bed?”

That was a damned trick question if he ever heard one. Women were excellent at such things. “No, what I want is to bare your skin and lick you all over. But I’m trying to be a gentleman because you’ve had an exhausting day. And you can always be in my bed. Our bed. Move your things into this room if you’d like.”

"You want to make love to me again?”

“Very much. But I can wait, sweetheart. I can just hold you.”

“What if I want you to make love to me, though? I think your touch would comfort me and help distract my mind,” she said.

She stood from the bed and pulled the nightgown off her body. He leaned up and stared at her. The night before, they’d been hurried and passionate and while he’d touched her everywhere, he hadn’t taken the time to simply look. She unbraided her hair so that it hung loosely down her shoulders in an ebony curtain.

He allowed himself time to take in the sight of her long, supple body. Starting at her toes and working his way up, he noted the elegant arch of her foot and the slenderness of her ankles. Her legs were, in fact, long and shapely, just as he’d imagined they would be. They stretched gracefully up to her hips, and he wanted nothing more than for her to wrap them around him as he took her. There, between her legs, was the triangle of dark curls that hid all her pleasures. Perfect hips moved into a narrow waist and highlighted her flat stomach. He wanted to dip his tongue into her navel simply to feel her muscles tighten beneath his touch. Then dip his tongue inside her hot channel and taste her honey that he could now scent.

He stood and walked to her. With his right hand he pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the column of her neck. Her pulse flickered beneath his mouth and he breathed in her scent.

“You smell like coffee,” he said.

He felt her shiver, then swallow, as he placed another open-mouthed kiss to her throat. “I had some earlier. Guilty pleasure, I’m afraid. Never been much of a tea drinker.”

The rich, heady aroma seemed to suit her, and he wondered why he’d never noticed it about her before. Dark, rich, and exotic, just like her.

“Your body is perfection, my wife.”

“I have thought the same about you. At least the parts that I’ve seen.” She reached forward, grabbed his trousers, and worked on the fastenings. While she did that, he cupped her pale, creamy globes. Flicked her dusky pink nipples that hardened under his gaze.