Page 37

He smiled, the gesture somehow not quite reaching his eyes. ‘I suppose you have had the thought of that paradise to console you through the last few weeks.’

It had taken her a while but it finally dawned that Freddie was as nervous as she was; it had never occurred to her that he would feel such an emotion.

All this time she had been expecting him to confidently lead them into this new era of their relationship, but he had never been married before either.

This was probably as daunting a prospect to him as it was to her.

That realisation gave her the confidence to say, ‘That and the thought that I would get to see you without a shirt on again.’ That, after all, had been on her mind an awful lot.

This time his smile lit up his whole face.

‘The last time I did that led to a very pleasing result.’ He must mean the kissing because he couldn’t be referring to their marriage.

She was not so na?ve as to believe that he’d wanted to marry her, but she was grateful that he had offered and she was going to do everything that she could to make this work.

She wouldn’t nag him to stay with her, she would accept that they were different people with very different interests and she would not allow those to come between them.

‘Would it help relax us both if I took my shirt off again?’

For a moment, his words left her winded.

She could picture it so clearly: his skin, the sun on it again, the way his muscles bunched and straightened as he moved.

Her mother would undoubtedly tell her off for such unladylike thoughts, but that did not stop her mind from wandering, to imagining what it would be like to take her time gazing at him.

His smile slowly began to fade at the lack of her response.

‘It was only a joke,’ he muttered when she didn’t respond.

‘I did not mean to cause you any distress.’

She wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue.

‘I am not so missish that I cannot talk about my husband shirtless.’ He jolted when she said that; it was the first time she had called him her husband and the words filled her heart with butterflies.

‘I am afraid I was just hit by what my mother would say to such an improper suggestion. We are outside and anyone could see.’

‘She would not approve,’ he said, his fingers moving to his cravat, pulling it loose. ‘And there is no one around for miles.’

‘No, she would not and you are right, there is not.’ All her life Emily had striven to do and say the right thing, to the people who her mother thought mattered the most. She’d had one tiny rebellion, sneaking into the duke’s garden to read in her favourite spot in the world and that had eventually changed her life.

And now… here was her handsome husband, offering to take his shirt off so that she could take her fill of his chest. A pull started in her stomach, a sensation she’d only experienced once before and that had led her to touching Freddie as if she could not get enough of him .

‘If your mother would disapprove, then it is possibly all the more reason to do it.’ He winked at her and she laughed.

‘Possibly.’ But he didn’t begin to undo the buttons and the strange squirmy feeling inside her intensified. ‘And also…’ she added.

‘Also?’

‘I have been thinking it cannot possibly be as good as I remember it.’ She waved her hand in the direction of his chest, hoping he would realise she was teasing. She was confident he looked as spectacular as he had the first time she had seen him.

He nodded as if giving this very thoughtful consideration. ‘Really, I should take off the shirt even if it is just to remind you of how truly magnificent I am.’

‘I feel that would be for the best,’ she agreed gravely.

She watched as his long fingers slipped each button from its hole, mesmerised by the journey as he worked his way down from his collar to where his shirt was tucked into his pantaloons.

He pulled it free before throwing it to one side.

He bent one knee, resting his arm against the top of it.

Her mouth went dry as her gaze travelled every inch of him.

He was glorious. Better than her memory had catalogued, or maybe that previous moment in the clearing had been too quick for her to appreciate.

But now she was at leisure, she could take in every detail of the man she had married.

His chest and shoulders were wide, the skin paler than his face; his stomach was muscular with dark hair below his navel.

The light of the summer day highlighted each dip and curve.

‘Well?’ he asked after many endless moments.

He sounded casual, but his fingers trembled against the dark material of his trousers.

‘Interesting,’ she said, not above teasing him, even in this moment.

He laughed, the sound bursting out of him, loosening the tension in his shoulders .

‘I think these should come off before I give you my full answer.’ She waved in the direction of his trousers, barely able to believe how brazen she was being.

This was not how she was taught to behave, but then Freddie was not like the man she thought she would marry.

He was far more vibrant than any man she had ever pictured for herself and there was something about the way he was looking at her that was daring her to play with him.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Not if you do not wish to,’ she said, quickly losing her newfound confidence. She folded the blanket between her fingers, watching her action for a moment, until she was brave enough to lift her gaze to his. ‘Only I am curious and it might help me with… you know… later.’

He nodded slowly and she got the impression that he understood.

The thought of the two of them alone in the hotel room, of seeing him naked for the first time and being expected to allow him to somehow slot himself inside of her made the picnic swirl dangerously in her stomach.

But out here, amongst the bees going about their business and the sun warming them, it was just one more step in this gentle flirtation.

He leaned down and began to undo the laces of his shoes.

It took him a while because his hands were not steady, but she made no comment, lest she embarrass him.

It wasn’t that she wanted him to be as nervous as her, but it helped knowing that she wasn’t the only one apprehensive about what was to come.

Besides, her own fingers were trembling and she could not help him with his task. He pulled one boot off and then another, followed by his socks. He wiggled his toes against the grass. She reached over and traced the arch of his foot; he hissed and jerked away from her. She whipped her hand away.

‘Ticklish,’ he said by way of an explanation .

‘Sorry.’

‘No. It is fine; you can touch me as much as you want, whenever you want.’ His hands moved to the front of his trousers. ‘Are you sure you want me to continue?’

A butterfly flickered past them, landing on a dandelion, its delicate wings fluttering open and closed. Directly in front of her there was a distinct outline underneath the material of his trousers, one that had not been there when they had been saying their vows. It was only one more step… ‘Yes.’

He pushed himself to standing, his hands working over the bindings of his clothes before pulling the material down over his thighs, his calves and eventually his feet.

Emily watched intently, unable to tear her gaze away from this exotic creature, her husband, so different from her in every way.

Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the blanket, near her but not touching.

His legs were strong and covered in dark hair, but that was not what held her attention.

Between his legs, his member was thick and hard, grazing his stomach.

Her gaze took in every detail and it appeared to grow yet further.

‘It is not as big as a stallion’s,’ she blurted out.

He froze, the skin on his face turning a bright, fiery red. ‘I am not sure whether that is a relief or a disappointment.’

‘Oh, a relief. Eloisa and I were unsure of the sizing of…’ She pointed vaguely in the direction. ‘And we were worried that it would not fit. I am pleased to see it is not that big.’

The colour on his cheeks faded, his eyes dancing with amusement. ‘Please do not go around telling people that about me. A man would prefer to be thought of as large in that area.’

‘Oh, if anyone asks I shall be sure to sing its praises.’

He flung back his head and laughed and she grinned as bubbles of happiness fizzed through her .

‘May I?’ she asked, lifting her hand to show that she intended to touch him.

His laughter died. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He nodded once, briskly. ‘You never need to ask. I meant it when I said you can always touch me, whenever you want.’ He leaned back onto his elbows, his gaze fixing on her hand as she slowly moved closer.

She reached over and lightly skimmed her fingers over his shoulder.

He let out a soft hum and she took that as encouragement to carry on, edging closer to him on the picnic blanket, the material ruffling slightly beneath her knees.

She carried on, over the ridge of his collarbone, the dip at the centre of his chest, the rise of his hip and the soft hair of his legs, taking her time, mapping him, listening as his breathing hitched, learning what areas made him flinch away with a tickled hiss and what made him hum in appreciation.

A bee hovered by his hipbone for a moment, before darting off to a yellow flower behind his head.