Page 21 of The Earl’s Scarred Bride (Taming the Gillets #2)

EPILOGUE

Two months later…

T he drawing room at Greyhall was filled with afternoon sunlight and laughter, a sound that still made Elizabeth's heart swell with joy. Emily sat beside her on the settee, one hand resting on her growing belly, while Madeleine occupied the armchair nearest the window. Their husbands were engaged in a heated debate about horse breeding with Laurence, who had arrived that morning from his Scottish estate.

"Lord, but it's good to hear laughter in these rooms again," Madeleine said, her eyes twinkling. "Do you remember, Emily, how dreadfully serious everything was before Cecil married our dear Elizabeth?"

"Indeed! Our brother would skulk about like some Gothic hero, all brooding looks and thunderous sighs," Emily replied with a dramatic flourish. "Now look at him—practically domesticated."

"I heard that," Cecil called from across the room, though his lips twitched with poorly suppressed amusement. "I assure you, I was never 'brooding.' Merely...contemplative."

"Contemplative?" Madeleine snorted most unladylike. "Is that what we're calling it now? Tell me, Elizabeth dear, does he still practice his contemplative scowls in the mirror each morning?"

Elizabeth bit back a laugh as her husband's ears reddened. "I couldn't possibly betray my husband's confidence," she demurred, though her eyes danced with mischief. "Though I will say the mirrors in our bedchamber have witnessed many...interesting expressions."

"Minx," Cecil mouthed at her, making her heart flutter even after months of marriage.

"Speaking of interesting expressions," Emily leaned forward conspiratorially, "do you remember when Mother caught him practicing his swordplay in the gallery? Using her best parasol as a rapier?"

"Good Lord, not this story again," Cecil groaned, but Elizabeth noticed his smile didn't fade at the mention of his mother—progress indeed.

"Oh, but we must tell Elizabeth!" Madeleine insisted. "You see, sister dear, our mighty earl was not always so graceful with a blade. There he was, barely twelve, swishing about Mother's prized silk parasol like some deranged musketeer-"

"I was teaching you both proper defensive techniques," Cecil protested. "As any good brother would."

"Is that what you told Mother when she found us?" Emily laughed. "All three of us frozen like guilty statues, her favorite parasol bent beyond recognition?"

"And do you remember what she said?" Madeleine's eyes glowed with the memory. "She just stood there, taking in the scene, and then-"

"'Well, if you're going to learn, you might as well learn properly,'" all three siblings chorused together.

"The next day, she had Master Richards himself come to give us lessons," Emily added, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Poor man had no idea what to do with two young ladies demanding to learn swordplay."

"Mother always did have her own way of doing things," Cecil said softly, and Elizabeth reached to squeeze his hand, proud of how naturally he now spoke of Catherine.

From his position by the window, Laurence made a sound that might have been amusement. "Aunt Catherine was certainly unique," he said, his usually stern features softening slightly. "I remember her sending me detailed letters about the Scottish wildflowers I'd mentioned in passing. Pages and pages of her paintings and observations."

"The paintings!" Madeleine exclaimed. "Oh Elizabeth, has Cecil shown you Mother's entire collection? She was remarkably talented. Remember how she used to set up her easel in the gardens? She'd be out there for hours, trying to capture the perfect light."

"Until Father would come looking for her," Cecil added, surprising them all with his gentle tone. "He'd pretend to be cross about her missing tea, but then he'd just end up sitting with her while she finished."

A comfortable silence fell over the room as they all absorbed this peaceful memory. Elizabeth studied her husband's profile, noting how the tension that usually accompanied mentions of his parents had eased into something softer, more contemplative.

"They did love each other," Emily said softly, voicing what they were all thinking. "Whatever else happened, I believe that was true."

Cecil's hand tightened briefly around Elizabeth's before relaxing. "Yes," he agreed, his voice steady. "They did. It wasn't perfect, but it was real." His eyes met Elizabeth's, full of meaning. "Sometimes love is stronger than our mistakes."

"Speaking of love," Laurence drawled, breaking the moment with practiced precision, "I require considerably more brandy before this conversation becomes any more maudlin."

"You always need more brandy, cousin," Cecil retorted, but there was warmth in his voice. If anything, he seemed grateful for Laurence's particular brand of gruff deflection.

"I say," Percival interjected, rising from his chair with the easy grace that had first caught Madeleine's eye, "wasn't there some wager about that new French brandy I acquired? Something about Scottish spirits being superior?"

"Was there?" Laurence's eyebrow arched imperiously. "I don't recall making any such bet."

"That's because you were three glasses deep in whisky at the time," Charles, Emily's husband, supplied helpfully. "Something about French spirits being fit only for, what was it? 'Dandies and dilettantes,' I believe were your exact words."

"How fortunate that I've never been known to suffer from excessive pride," Laurence said dryly, though his lips twitched. "Very well, Percy. Lead on. Let us settle this debate like gentlemen."

"Through excessive consumption and questionable wagers?" Madeleine teased. "How terribly burdensome for you, cousin."

"The trials I endure for my homeland," Laurence agreed solemnly, though there was a glint in his eye that made him look years younger.

As the men moved toward Percival's study, the patter of small feet announced a new arrival. Adelaide, Emily's daughter, came bursting into the room with her nurse close behind, her golden curls bouncing with each determined step.

"Uncle Cecil! Uncle Cecil!" she exclaimed, making a beeline for her favorite relative. "You promised me a story!"

Cecil scooped her up without hesitation, his dignified earl's persona melting away as he settled her on his knee. "Did I indeed? And what sort of story would my favorite niece like to hear?"

"I am your only niece," Adelaide informed him with all the gravity a four-year-old could muster.

"Ah, but that makes you even more precious, does it not?" Cecil tweaked one of her curls, making her giggle. "Now then, shall we have tales of knights and dragons? Perhaps a dashing pirate or two?"

"No!" Adelaide's curls bounced as she shook her head emphatically. "I want the story about the lady with the pretty mark! The one the fairies blessed!"

Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm as Emily and Madeleine exchanged knowing looks. Over the past months, Cecil had developed quite the repertoire of stories for their niece, but this particular tale—his heavily romanticized version of how he'd met Elizabeth—had become Adelaide's clear favorite.

"The fairy blessing story again?" Cecil's eyes found Elizabeth's, dancing with mischief. "Well, I suppose it is rather a good one. Though I must warn you, princess, your aunt might object to some of my embellishments."

"Aunt Elizabeth never objects," Adelaide said confidently. "She always smiles when you tell it, even when she pretends to scowl."

"Does she indeed?" Cecil's grin widened. "How very observant you are, my dear. Very well then—once upon a time, there was a beautiful lady who had been blessed by fairies at birth..."

"Blessed by fairies?" Elizabeth mouthed at him, touching her scar with amused exasperation.

He merely winked before continuing, "They gave her a special mark, you see, so that only the cleverest of men would recognize her true worth. But many foolish people couldn't see past the mark to the treasure beneath..."

"Until the handsome earl came along!" Adelaide bounced excitedly. "That's you, Uncle Cecil!"

"Well, I wouldn't say handsome," Madeleine cut in, grinning. "Perhaps 'tolerably good-looking' at best."

"Devastatingly handsome," Cecil corrected with mock severity, making Adelaide giggle again. "And very clever indeed, for he saw right away what a rare and precious jewel the lady was."

"Though not clever enough to avoid making a complete cake of himself first," Emily added with a laugh. "As I recall, you practically had to be forced into admitting your feelings."

"I prefer to think of it as a carefully planned strategic retreat," Cecil said loftily, though his ears had reddened slightly. "Followed by a masterful comeback."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Laurence's dry voice came from the doorway, where he had reappeared with a fresh glass in hand. "I seem to remember more drinking and brooding than strategy."

"Uncle Laurence!" Adelaide squirmed off Cecil's lap and ran to her other uncle, who caught her deftly with his free hand. "Will you stay for dinner? Uncle Cecil tells the best stories, but you make the funniest faces!"

Something flickered in Laurence's usually stoic expression—a softness that seemed at odds with his stern demeanor. "I suppose I could be persuaded," he said gravely. "If you promise to keep your Uncle Cecil from telling any more embellished tales about his own heroics."

"I do not embellish," Cecil protested, pulling Elizabeth closer to his side. "Every word I say about my wife is absolutely true. If anything, I understate her perfection."

"Now who's embellishing?" Elizabeth murmured, but she couldn't help leaning into his embrace, savoring the warmth of him.

"Mother would have adored being a grandmother," Madeleine said softly, watching Adelaide chatter away to an indulgent Laurence. "Can't you just imagine her with a whole brood of little ones?"

"She would have spoiled them terribly," Cecil agreed, and this time his smile held no shadows. "Probably would have had an entire nursery filled with her paintings of them."

As the others continued to reminisce, Cecil leaned close to Elizabeth, his breath warm against her ear. "Your smile is too pretty for your own good, my love," he whispered, making her cheeks flush. "I think we need to return home soon so I can demonstrate just how devastatingly handsome you find me."

Elizabeth turned to meet his gaze, seeing the familiar mix of mischief and devotion that never failed to make her heart skip. "We've only just arrived for the afternoon," she whispered back, though she couldn't help but smile at his impatience.

"Mmm, and you've been driving me to distraction the entire time." His fingers traced a subtle pattern on her palm where their hands were joined, hidden from view by the folds of her skirt. "The way you keep biting your lip when you're trying not to laugh at my sister's stories...most provoking, wife."

"I wasn't aware you found my attempts at politeness so troublesome," she teased, though her pulse quickened at his touch.

"Everything about you troubles me," he murmured, his voice dropping lower. "In the most delicious ways. For instance, right now I'm having the most inappropriate thoughts about that little catch in your breath when I do this..." His thumb brushed over her wrist, making her shiver.

"Cecil!" she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed their intimate exchange. "We're in company."

"Then perhaps we should make our excuses," he suggested, his eyes dark with promise. "After all, what sort of husband would I be if I allowed my wife to remain...troubled?"

Later that day Elizabeth stood by the window of their private sitting room, watching as the last rays of sunlight painted the garden in shades of gold. The peaceful moment was interrupted by an unusual sound—a muffled whimper coming from the direction of Cecil's study. Her brow furrowed in confusion. What could he possibly be up to now?

"Cecil?" she called out, gathering her skirts as she moved toward the connecting door. "Is everything quite all right?"

"One moment, darling!" His voice carried a note of barely contained excitement that made her smile. Cecil was many things, but subtle had never been among them. "I have something rather special to show you."

Elizabeth's heart quickened. Over the months of their marriage, she had grown to both anticipate and slightly fear his surprises. The last one had involved convincing her to ride astride like a man—scandalous, thrilling, and resulting in the most delightful afternoon gallop through their private woods.

The door creaked open, and Cecil emerged, one hand conspicuously hidden behind his back. His usually immaculate cravat was slightly askew, and there was a boyish gleam in his eyes that made him look years younger.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, his voice rich with suppressed laughter.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "The last time you made such a request, I ended up with my new riding habit completely ruined."

"And as I recall, you didn't mind in the least." His grin was positively wicked. "But I promise, this surprise is entirely different. Trust me?"

The last two words were spoken softly, almost vulnerably, and Elizabeth's heart melted. "Always," she whispered, letting her eyes flutter closed.

She heard him move closer, felt the warmth of his presence, and then—a wet nose pressed against her hand, followed by an enthusiastic lick.

Elizabeth's eyes flew open to find herself staring down at the most adorable spaniel puppy she had ever seen. The little creature was golden-brown with floppy ears and enormous dark eyes that seemed to contain all the love in the world.

"Oh!" she gasped, dropping to her knees without a thought for her expensive muslin gown. The puppy immediately scrambled into her lap, tail wagging so hard its entire body wiggled with joy.

"Do you like him?" Cecil asked, and there was something in his voice—a touch of uncertainty that made Elizabeth look up. Her husband, usually so confident and commanding, was watching her with an almost shy expression.

"Like him? Cecil, I adore him!" She gathered the squirming puppy close, laughing as it attempted to lick every inch of her face. "But whatever made you think of getting a puppy?"

Cecil knelt beside her, his fingers gentle as he scratched behind the puppy's ears. "I thought...well, that is to say..." He cleared his throat, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. "I thought it might be good practice. For us. For when we...that is, if you wish...when we have children of our own."

The words hung in the air between them, laden with meaning and hope. Elizabeth's heart seemed to grow three sizes at once, and she had to blink back sudden tears.

Elizabeth reached out to cup Cecil's cheek, her touch infinitely tender. "You want to practice being a father?"

"I want to be worthy of it," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "My own father was...well, you know what he was. I don't want to repeat his mistakes. I thought perhaps if we started with something smaller..." He gestured to the puppy, who had flopped onto its back, begging for belly rubs with shameless enthusiasm.

"Cecil." Elizabeth's voice held such warmth that he had to look at her. "You are nothing like your father. Nothing. And you prove it every day with how you treat everyone around you—from the lowest stable boy to the highest peer."

"You make me want to be better," he murmured, turning his face to press a kiss to her palm. "Every day, in every way."

The puppy, apparently feeling neglected, chose that moment to wedge itself between them, demanding attention with a series of small, adorable whimpers.

Elizabeth laughed, the sound like music. "Well, it seems our new addition has your commanding presence, my lord. Though perhaps with slightly more charm."

"Minx." Cecil's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Are you suggesting that I lack charm?"

"Never." She leaned forward to kiss him quickly, mindful of their squirming audience. "Though I must say, this particular surprise has rather exceeded your usual standard. Does our new companion have a name?"

Cecil's expression turned sheepish. "I thought perhaps you might like to do the honors. Though I warn you, he's already displaying quite the personality. The breeder said he's the most spirited of the litter."

"Of course he is." Elizabeth scratched under the puppy's chin, earning a look of pure bliss. "You wouldn't have chosen any other, would you? Always drawn to the challenging ones."

"I married you, didn't I?" His grin was unrepentant as she swatted his arm.

Elizabeth studied the puppy thoughtfully. "What about Perseus? He certainly seems brave enough, trying to fit in all this exploration at once."

Indeed, the puppy had already begun investigating the sitting room, nose twitching with interest as he discovered each new scent and sound.

"Perseus." Cecil tested the name. "Yes, I think it suits him. Though I suspect he'll end up being called Percy more often than not."

As if recognizing his new name, the puppy—Percy—came bounding back to them, nearly tripping over his own oversized paws in his excitement.

"Careful, little one," Cecil cautioned, catching the puppy before he could tumble into a delicate side table. "I believe we'll need to make some adjustments to accommodate our new family member."

Elizabeth's heart swelled at his use of the word 'family.' She watched as her husband—the fearsome Earl of Stonefield, known throughout London for his sharp wit and sharper business acumen—gently guided the puppy away from potential mischief, his large hands impossibly gentle with the tiny creature.

The evening light had softened to a gentle purple haze, casting long shadows across the sitting room floor. Percy had finally exhausted himself and lay curled in Elizabeth's lap, his tiny chest rising and falling with each contented breath.

Cecil found himself transfixed by the scene before him—his beautiful wife, her dark curls escaping their pins, her face suffused with such tender affection as she stroked the sleeping puppy. The way the fading light caught her profile, the gentle curve of her neck, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks...

"You're staring, my lord," Elizabeth murmured without looking up.

"Can you blame me?" His voice was husky. "You make quite the picture, you know. I only wish I had the skill to capture this moment properly."

At that, she did look up, curiosity brightening her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Cecil felt an uncharacteristic flush creep up his neck. This wasn't how he'd planned to tell her, but then, Elizabeth had a way of drawing his secrets out before he was ready to share them.

"I've been...that is to say..." He cleared his throat. "I've taken up drawing. Or attempting to, at least."

"Drawing?" Elizabeth's eyes widened with genuine surprise. "When did this begin?"

"About two months ago." He moved to sit beside her on the settee, careful not to disturb the sleeping puppy. "Do you remember that afternoon when Lord Ashworth was droning on about his new collection of Italian masters?"

"The afternoon I thought you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open?" A smile tugged at her lips.

"I wasn't sleeping," he admitted. "I was watching how the light played across your face during his tedious lecture. The way it caught in your hair, the subtle changes in your expression as you valiantly attempted to look interested..." He shook his head, smiling at the memory. "I couldn't stop thinking about how I wished I could capture that moment. So I... well, I hired an instructor. In secret."

Elizabeth's free hand found his, her fingers intertwining with his larger ones. "Cecil...why didn't you tell me?"

He brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I wanted to wait until I had something worth showing you. Though I'm beginning to think that may take considerably longer than anticipated. Art, it seems, requires rather more patience than I'm accustomed to exercising."

"Will you show me?" she asked softly. "What you've done so far?"

Cecil hesitated, an unusual sight that made Elizabeth's heart flutter. This powerful man who commanded respect in every room he entered, who could reduce seasoned businessmen to stammering with a single raised eyebrow, was nervous about showing her his drawings.

"They're quite awful," he warned, but rose anyway, carefully extracting his hand from hers. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"I would never," she assured him, though her eyes sparkled with affection at his uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Percy stirred in her lap as Cecil crossed to his study, letting out a tiny yawn that made Elizabeth's heart melt all over again. By the time her husband returned, the puppy had resettled, nose tucked under his paw.

Cecil held a leather portfolio close to his chest, his knuckles white against the dark material. "Perhaps this isn't the best time?—"

"Cecil." Elizabeth's voice was gentle but firm. "Come here."

He moved back to her side as if drawn by an invisible thread, sinking down beside her on the settee. With careful movements, he opened the portfolio and withdrew several sheets of paper.

"They're just sketches," he said quickly. "Rough attempts, really. Nothing worth?—"

His words died as Elizabeth reached for the first drawing. It was her, caught in profile, her face turned toward a window they both recognized from their morning room. The lines were perhaps not as polished as a master's might be, but there was something captivating about the way he'd captured her expression—thoughtful, dreaming, with just a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

"Cecil," she breathed. "This is..."

"Terrible, I know." He reached to take it back, but she held it out of his reach.

"Beautiful," she corrected firmly. "You've captured... I can't explain it, but looking at this, I remember exactly what I was thinking that morning."

His eyes searched her face. "You do?"

"Mmhmm." She smiled softly. "I was thinking about you, actually. About how you'd looked at breakfast, all rumpled and cross because your favorite tea blend had run out. And how even then, even at your most irritable, all I wanted was to kiss that frown right off your face."

The heat that flared in Cecil's eyes made her breath catch. "Did you now?" His voice had dropped to that low, velvet tone that never failed to make her shiver. "And here I thought you were contemplating something far more profound."

Elizabeth carefully set the drawings aside, mindful of the sleeping puppy in her lap. "I think," she said softly, "that you underestimate your talents, my lord. Both artistic and...otherwise."

"Do I?" Cecil's voice remained low, intimate, as he reached out to brush a stray curl from her cheek. "Perhaps you should enlighten me about these... other talents you speak of."

"Gladly." She turned her face into his touch, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Though I believe a demonstration might be more effective than mere words."

Percy chose that moment to wake, stretching and yawning before hopping down from Elizabeth's lap to explore his new surroundings once more. Cecil watched the puppy pad away, then turned back to his wife with darkened eyes.

"I believe," he murmured, sliding closer, "that you were about to demonstrate something?"

Elizabeth's breath caught at the heat in his gaze. Even after months of marriage, he could still make her heart race with just a look. "Was I? How forgetful of me."

"Minx." His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing across her lower lip. "Shall I remind you?"

"Please do."

The first brush of his lips against hers was gentle, almost reverent. Elizabeth sighed into the kiss, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. She could feel his heart thundering beneath her palm, matching the rapid beat of her own.

"Elizabeth," he breathed against her mouth. "My darling, my love, my everything..."

She melted at the words, at the raw emotion in his voice. Her fingers curled into his cravat, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Cecil groaned softly, his free hand sliding down to her waist, drawing her against him.

"You are extraordinary," he murmured between kisses. "Do you know that? The way you accept all of me—even my terrible attempts at art..."

"Not terrible," she corrected, nipping lightly at his lower lip. "Beautiful. Like everything you do."

A small crash from across the room made them break apart. Percy had discovered the fireplace fender and was regarding it with profound suspicion, having apparently knocked it slightly askew.

Cecil laughed softly, resting his forehead against Elizabeth's. "I believe our new addition requires supervision."

"Mmm." She stole another quick kiss. "Much like his father, always getting into mischief when left unattended."

Cecil rose to rescue the fender from Percy's continued investigation, scooping up the puppy in one smooth motion. "Come here, you little troublemaker. I believe it's time we established some ground rules about appropriate behavior for a gentleman's companion."

Percy responded by licking his chin enthusiastically, causing Elizabeth to laugh. "Oh yes, he's definitely taking your instruction very seriously."

"Much like someone else I know," Cecil said pointedly, returning to the settee with the puppy tucked securely in his arms. "Someone who was supposed to be learning proper deportment from her governess but was instead climbing trees and reading forbidden novels."

"And yet you married me anyway." Elizabeth reached over to scratch Percy's ears. "Perhaps you have a weakness for the unmanageable ones."

"Perhaps I simply recognize true quality when I see it." His voice softened as he gazed at her. "Elizabeth...I want to paint you properly. Not just sketches, but a real portrait. You and Percy both, just as you were earlier, bathed in that perfect evening light."

Her heart skipped at the intensity in his eyes. "But you've only just started learning to draw..."

"Then it shall be my masterpiece to work toward." He shifted Percy to one arm so he could reach for her hand. "Something to practice for, to strive toward. Like being a good father." His thumb traced patterns on her palm. "I want to capture every moment with you, my love. Every smile, every laugh, every perfect imperfection that makes you uniquely, wonderfully you."

Elizabeth felt tears prick at her eyes. "Cecil..."

"I know it's foolish," he continued quickly. "A man of my position, taking up art at this age. Society will likely mock?—"

She silenced him with a kiss, pouring all her love and pride into the connection. When she finally pulled back, both of them were breathing heavily.

"Let them mock," she said fiercely. "You are so much more than they could ever understand. My talented, surprising, wonderful husband." She squeezed his hand. "And you will be an amazing father. You already are, look."

She nodded toward Percy, who had fallen asleep in the crook of Cecil's arm, tiny paws twitching as he dreamed.

"We'll learn together," she continued softly. "All of it. The art, the parenting, everything. Just as we've learned everything else."

Cecil's free hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch infinitely tender. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You loved me," she said simply. "Just as you were, just as I was. No pretense, no masks. Just us."

"Just us," he echoed, leaning in to kiss her again. This kiss was different from the passionate ones before—slower, deeper, full of promises for their future together.

A future that now included art supplies scattered among the business ledgers, a puppy sleeping by the fire, and countless moments of joy yet to be captured on paper and in their hearts.

When they finally parted, the room had grown dark around them, lit only by the gentle glow of the banked fire. Percy snuffled in his sleep, making them both smile.

"I love you," Cecil murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. "More than I could ever capture in any drawing or painting."

"Then you'll just have to keep practicing," Elizabeth teased softly. "We have a lifetime ahead of us, after all."

"A lifetime," he agreed, his voice rough with emotion. "And it still won't be enough time to show you just how much you mean to me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." She curled into his side, careful not to disturb Percy. "I think you're doing a rather good job of it so far."

As soon as they reached their chambers, Cecil kicked the door shut behind them, his heart pounding with a familiar anticipation. Elizabeth stood by the window, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her skin. The way she looked at him over her shoulder, eyes dark with desire, nearly undid him completely.

"Do you know what you do to me, wife?" Cecil's voice was rough as he stalked toward her. "How maddening it is to watch you all day, knowing I cannot touch you as I wish?"

Elizabeth's lips curved into that teasing smile he adored. "And how do you wish to touch me, my lord?"

"Minx," he growled, coming up behind her. His hands settled on her waist, drawing her back against him. "You know precisely what you do to me. The way you looked at me during dinner..."

"I merely glanced your way once or twice," she protested, though her breath hitched as his lips found that sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Once or twice?" His chuckle was dark and promising. "You were practically undressing me with your eyes, darling. Not that I minded, of course." His hands slid up to cup her breasts through her gown. "Though I must say, I prefer the real thing."

Elizabeth gasped as his thumbs circled her nipples through the fabric. "Cecil...someone might hear..."

"Let them," he murmured against her neck. "I want everyone to know how thoroughly I pleasure my wife. How beautifully you come apart in my arms."

"You are absolutely wicked," she breathed, but her body arched into his touch.

"Only for you, my love." His hands worked at the fastenings of her gown. "Only ever for you. Tell me what you want, Elizabeth. Tell me how to please you."

She turned in his arms, her fingers tangling in his cravat. "I want...I want you to kiss me properly. None of these teasing touches."

"As my lady commands." Cecil's smile was pure sin as he backed her toward their bed. "Though I warn you, once I start, I may not be able to stop."

"Then don't." Elizabeth's eyes held a challenge that made his blood burn. "Show me exactly what you've been thinking about all evening."

"Dangerous words, wife." He lifted her onto the bed, his hands sliding up her legs. "Are you certain you're prepared for the consequences?"

"Are you trying to frighten me, my lord?" Her smile was wicked as she began unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Because I assure you, I am quite capable of handling whatever you have planned."

"Is that so?" Cecil caught her hands, pressing them above her head as he leaned over her. "Then perhaps I should demonstrate exactly what I've been imagining. How I've dreamed of peeling away every layer of your proper facade until you're writhing beneath me, begging for my touch."

Elizabeth's breath caught at his words. "You seem very sure of yourself."

"I am." His free hand traced the neckline of her gown, fingers ghosting over her skin. "Because I know how your body responds to me. How you tremble when I touch you here..." His thumb brushed her nipple through the fabric, making her gasp. "How your breath catches when I kiss you here..." His lips found her pulse point. "How you moan when I..."

"Cecil!" She squirmed beneath him as his hand slid lower, bunching her skirts around her thighs.

"Yes, my love?" His voice was pure innocence, though his touch was anything but. "Is something troubling you?"

"You know very well what's troubling me," she managed, her voice breathy. "You're being deliberately cruel."

He laughed softly against her skin. "Cruel? I'm being thorough, darling. Savoring every moment, every sound you make." His fingers traced patterns on her inner thigh. "Would you rather I rushed? Took you hard and fast without proper appreciation?"

"I would rather you stopped talking and kissed me properly," Elizabeth demanded, making him grin.

"As my lady wishes." Cecil finally captured her mouth with his, swallowing her moan of relief.

The kiss was deep and thorough, a promise of pleasures to come. Elizabeth's hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as his tongue swept into her mouth. He tasted of brandy and desire, intoxicating in ways she couldn't describe.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured between kisses. "Tell me how to please you, my love."

"I want..." She hesitated, still shy about voicing such things despite their months of marriage.

"Say it," he encouraged, nipping at her lower lip. "There's nothing to be ashamed of between husband and wife."

"I want to feel you," she whispered. "All of you. No more teasing."

Cecil's eyes darkened at her words. "As you wish, my darling. Though I warn you..." His smile turned wicked. "I intend to take my time worshiping every inch of you before I grant that particular request."

"You're still wearing far too many clothes," Elizabeth observed, her fingers working at his cravat. "How am I to properly appreciate my husband when he's so thoroughly covered?"

Cecil laughed against her throat. "Impatient, are we?" His teeth grazed her pulse point, making her gasp. "And here I thought you enjoyed our little games of anticipation."

"Not tonight," she breathed, finally freeing him from his cravat. "Tonight I want..."

"Yes?" He pulled back to study her face, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want, my love. You know how I adore hearing you voice your desires."

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed beautifully. "I want to see you. All of you."

"As my lady commands." Cecil straightened, making quick work of his waistcoat and shirt. "Though I expect equal cooperation from you, darling. These gowns of yours are becoming increasingly complicated."

"That's because you keep destroying them," she pointed out, sitting up to help him with her laces. "Mrs. Winters was quite scandalized by the state of my blue silk last week."

His grin was unrepentant. "Worth every moment of her disapproval." His hands replaced hers on the laces, working with practiced ease. "Though I must say, you make it exceptionally difficult to maintain my control when you wear things like this."

"Do I?" Elizabeth's innocent tone was belied by the mischief in her eyes. "How fascinating. And here I thought you preferred me in simpler attire."

"Minx." He pressed a kiss to her newly exposed shoulder. "I prefer you in nothing at all, as you well know. These gowns are merely pretty wrapping paper to be carefully...or not so carefully...removed."

She shivered as more of her skin was revealed to the cool night air. "Cecil..."

"Yes, my love?" His fingers traced the line of her spine. "Something troubling you?"

"You're doing this deliberately," she accused, though there was no real anger in her voice. "Drawing it out to torment me."

"Torment?" He feigned offense. "I am simply being thorough in my appreciation of my beautiful wife." His lips followed the path of his fingers. "Would you deny me that pleasure?"

Elizabeth's laugh turned into a gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot. "I would deny you nothing, as you well know. But I might expire from frustration if you continue at this pace."

"We can't have that." Cecil's voice held a wicked promise as he finally slid her gown from her shoulders. "What kind of husband would I be if I let my beloved wife expire from such a treatable condition?"

"An absolutely wretched one," she agreed, helping him push the heavy fabric away. "Though I must say, you seem to delight in bringing me to the brink of madness."

"Only because you're so enchanting when you're desperate for my touch." His hands skimmed over her stays. "The way your breath catches, how your skin flushes..." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone. "How you tremble when I do this..."

"Cecil!" She arched into his touch as his clever fingers found the laces of her stays.

"Yes, exactly like that." His smile was pure sin. "Tell me, my love...what would you have me do next? Would you like me to unlace you slowly, drawing out every moment? Or should I simply tear these bothersome garments away and have done with it?"

"Don't you dare," Elizabeth managed, though her voice was breathless. "I actually like these stays."

"More than you like what I plan to do once they're removed?" He nipped at her earlobe.

"You are impossible," she declared, but her hands were already helping him with the laces. "Absolutely impossible."

"And yet you love me." It wasn't a question, but his voice held a note of wonder that made her heart ache.

Elizabeth caught his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I do," she said softly. "More than I ever thought possible."

Something vulnerable flickered in Cecil's expression before he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. This wasn't like his earlier teasing kisses—this was deep and desperate, full of emotion neither of them quite dared to voice.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Cecil rested his forehead against hers. "You undo me completely," he murmured. "Every time I think I have control of myself, you say something that makes me want to forget every careful plan."

"Then forget them," Elizabeth whispered, her fingers threading through his hair. "We don't need plans or games tonight. Just us."

His eyes darkened at her words. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Don't I?" She smiled up at him, all traces of shyness gone. "I'm asking my husband to make love to me. To stop thinking so much and simply feel."

"Elizabeth..." There was a warning in his voice.

"Yes?" She deliberately shifted beneath him, making him groan. "Something troubling you, my lord?"

"You," he growled, finally attacking the last of her laces with renewed purpose. "You trouble me constantly. Drive me to distraction with your wit and your beauty and your damnable ability to see right through every defense I build."

"There," Cecil announced triumphantly as the last of Elizabeth's stays finally gave way. "I believe that's a new record for unlacing without damage to the garment."

"Such restraint," Elizabeth teased, helping him slide the fabric away. "I'm impressed by your newfound patience, my lord."

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her in nothing but her thin shift. "Don't praise my patience yet, darling. The night is still young."

"And what exactly do you have planned for this young night?" She reached for the buttons of his shirt, her fingers working with deliberate slowness.

"Hmm." He pretended to consider this as her hands moved lower. "Perhaps I should demonstrate rather than explain."

Elizabeth's breath caught as his lips found her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. "I do appreciate a thorough demonstration."

"I've noticed." His smile was wicked against her skin. "You've always been an exceptionally...eager student."

"Only because I have such an attentive teacher." She pushed his shirt from his shoulders, her hands splaying across his chest. "Though I must say, some of your lessons are rather scandalous."

Cecil laughed softly, the sound sending shivers down her spine. "Scandalous? My darling, you haven't seen scandalous yet." His hands found the hem of her shift. "Shall I show you what true scandal looks like?"

"Please do." Elizabeth's voice held a challenge that made his blood burn. "Though I warn you, I may require multiple demonstrations to fully grasp the concept."

"Temptress." He groaned as her nails scraped lightly across his chest. "You'll be the death of me with that clever tongue of yours."

"Oh?" Her smile was pure innocence. "And here I thought you rather enjoyed my clever tongue."

Cecil's eyes blazed at her bold words. "Elizabeth..."

"Yes, my lord?" She blinked up at him, the picture of wide-eyed innocence despite her state of undress.

He pushed her back onto the bed, his body covering hers. He trailed kisses down her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, his tongue laving her nipples, his teeth nipping lightly.

Elizabeth moaned, her body arching up to meet him, her legs wrapping around his waist. Cecil groaned, his hands gripping her bottom, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He kissed her stomach, her hips, her thighs, his body moving downwards.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her drawers, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He tossed them aside, his gaze raking over her naked body. "Mine," he growled, his voice thick with possession. "All mine."

Elizabeth nodded, her breath coming in short gasps. "Yours, Cecil," she breathed. "Always yours."

Cecil grinned, a wolfish grin that sent a thrill coursing through her. He pushed her legs apart, his eyes feasting on her glistening folds. He leaned down, his tongue darting out to taste her. Elizabeth gasped, her hips bucking off the bed. Cecil chuckled, his hands gripping her hips, holding her steady as his tongue explored her, teased her, tasted her.

"Cecil!" Elizabeth cried out, her body writhing beneath him. He growled against her, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. His tongue found her sensitive nub, circling it, teasing it, before sucking it into his mouth.

Elizabeth screamed, her body convulsing as her climax hit her. Cecil held her steady, his tongue lapping at her, his fingers entering her, prolonging her pleasure.

When her body finally stilled, Cecil climbed up her body, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss. Elizabeth could taste herself on him, a musky, sweet taste that sent another wave of desire coursing through her.

Cecil kissed her slowly, languidly, his hands roaming over her body, stoking her desire once more. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. "I want you on all fours darling. As if you're begging me to take you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see your beautiful bottom as I claim you."

Elizabeth gasped, her eyes widening at the image his words conjured. She nodded, her body already trembling with anticipation.

Cecil growled low in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction. He climbed off her, his hands gripping her hips, flipping her onto her stomach. He leaned down, his lips pressing against her shoulder, her spine, her lower back. He kissed her bottom, his teeth nipping lightly, his tongue soothing the sting.

Elizabeth gasped, her body arching up to meet him, her bottom pressing against his mouth. Cecil groaned, his hands gripping her cheeks, spreading them apart. He kissed her intimately, his tongue darting out to taste her.

Elizabeth cried out, her body convulsing at the shocking pleasure. Cecil chuckled, his hands holding her steady as his tongue explored her, teased her, tasted her. He trailed kisses up her spine, his body covering hers, his manhood pressing against her entrance.

"Cecil," Elizabeth breathed, her body trembling with need. "Please, Cecil."

Cecil groaned, his hips flexing, his manhood entering her slowly, inch by inch. Elizabeth moaned, her body stretching to accommodate him, her hips pushing back to meet him.

Cecil held her steady, his body claiming hers, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. Elizabeth moaned, her body moving with him, her hips meeting his thrusts. Cecil groaned, his pace increasing, his body claiming hers, his hips slapping against her bottom.

"Elizabeth," he growled, his body tensing, his climax approaching. He leaned down, his teeth finding her shoulder, biting lightly. Elizabeth cried out, her body convulsing around him, her climax hitting her hard and fast.

Cecil roared, his body following hers into bliss, his seed spilling into her. He collapsed on top of her, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Elizabeth lay beneath him, her body sated, her heart full. She turned her head, her lips pressing against his cheek. "I love you, Cecil," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Cecil pulled back slightly, his eyes soft as they met hers. "I love you too, Elizabeth," he murmured, his voice hoarse with spent passion. "More than words can express."

The End?