Page 58 of Scandalizing the Scoundrel
“Then what is stopping you?”
“I’m a bit jealous you came up with it.”
Grant rocked back on his heels with a grin. He understood a competitive spirit. “I like to be the best at whatever I do.”
“Humph.” Garrison turned to Bridget. “What do you think, sweeting? Should we start the program in the spring?”
“Oh, most certainly. Children love horses, you know. And the circus. And my friend Pansy wants to learn to do tricks.”
“See,” Grant said. “Even Bridget agrees.”
“Very well.” Garrison slapped the top of the desk. “Start the program as you wish.”
“Excellent.” Grant turned to leave. “Bridget, can you go with Grandpapa Garrison back to the arena? I’ve an … engagement to attend.” He put his hand on the doorknob.
“Must I?” she asked.
He looked back at her.
She fiddled with the ribbon that tied her gown tight and trailed down her skirt. “I’d rather stay with Grandpapa. He always tells me the most interesting things.”
Grant frowned. “About what?”
“Numbers!” Bridget’s eyes lit up.
Grant chuckled and opened the door.
“Leave her here,” Garrison said. “Go to your engagement.” He waved Grant away and pulled out a ledger, guiding Bridget closer to the desk. “Now, last time we looked at how—”
Grant shut the door on the mathematics lesson and made short work of the distance to his office. He slipped inside and found his wife laid across the settee. Entirely naked.
“Bloody hell, Freddy. The door was unlocked! Anyone could’ve barged in.”
She grinned, lifted her arms to him, welcoming him. “They’ve learned their lessons, I think.”
In the first months of their marriage, they’d been caught too many times to count. Now everyone knocked.
“If you do not like it,” she drawled, “I can put everything back on and—”
“No. No. Stay right as you are, wanton and wicked.” He knelt before her, one hand melting through her tousled curls to warm the back of her neck, the other finding an entirely perfect breast to cup. Then his lips found hers, his heart finding the rhythms hers beat at and joining it. He dragged his lips over her chin and down her throat. He kissed that hollow space between her breasts, and she moaned, and he closed his eyes and inhaled and fell a little more in love. As he did every day. “And mine.” He spoke the words to warm her skin.
Her hands tugged at his cravat, his hair, pulling his back up for another kiss, and he was lost, always had been, always would be. But in the losing he’d found himself, become the man he’d always meant to be. A teacher and leader, a father and husband. Hers.