Page 44 of The King’s Man (Guardians of the Crown #2)

A welcoming fire burned in the grate of The Ship Inn’s best bedchamber. The twins had lit the room with expensive wax candles and left a cold supper set on the table.

Kit closed the door behind him and turned the key in the lock.

He paused just to watch Thamsine. In the light of the candles, he could not see the darns and frayed edges of the amber gown and it glowed like a jewel, shimmering as she walked towards the window.

The low cut of the bodice exposed her back, the long line of the stays lending an elegant grace to her slender figure.

She stopped by the window, looking down into the street, her hand resting on the sill, her face half-turned away from him. His heart ached at her beauty and the sudden realisation that she was beautiful. Every woman he had ever known paled into insipid prettiness beside her.

That thought made her unattainable and untouchable. A few days ago he had slept with her in his arms; now he stood in his wedding chamber like a virgin youth, at a loss to know what to say or even what to do.

She turned to look at him. ‘What are you thinking?’

He paused for a moment before replying, unable to concoct a suitable answer that did not sound hackneyed or ribald or just plain stupid, so he opted for the truth.

‘I was thinking how beautiful you are,’ he said.

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘No one has ever told me that before.’

‘No one has ever seen you looking as you do now. That gown becomes you well.’

She looked down at the bodice. ‘I thought it a little immodest,’ she said, ‘but then I have very little to be immodest about.’

Kit forced his wooden feet towards the table and poured a glass of wine from the jug.

Jem had assured him it was the very best the inn had to offer.

He took a sip and, satisfied that Jem was correct in his opinion that it was marginally better than the usual gut rot served in the taproom, he poured Thamsine a glass and walked over to where she still stood by the window.

‘I was watching life go by,’ she said. ‘And thinking how fortunate the people in the street are to be just going about their business.’

‘They probably have their share of problems,’ Kit replied pragmatically. ‘Life is hard for everyone, Thamsine.’ He raised his glass. ‘Shall we toast a new beginning?’

She gave a small, tight smile and raised her glass to his. ‘A new beginning for both of us.’ She sipped the wine and sighed. ‘This feels strange.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, here we are, man and wife, and yet we know so little of each other.’

‘Would it make a difference?’ Kit asked. ‘I doubt one person ever really knows another. Anyway, we have a whole lifetime to make those discoveries.’

She frowned. ‘A whole lifetime! We have to survive the next few weeks first, Kit.’

Kit set his glass down and took her hand. ‘I refuse to let any thought of what lies outside this room intrude on us tonight, Thamsine. What little time we have is for us and us alone to start learning those little things about each other.’

She looked up at him and her eyes twinkled. ‘The twins have already told me things about you that I am sure you would be flattered to hear.’

He pulled a face. ‘I can only imagine what they have been saying.’ His eyes sought out hers. ‘Thamsine, I make no apologies for my life. I have never made a pretence of being a saint. I have made love to a number of women but I want you to know, I have never loved a woman as I do you.’

There – the words were out.

Her brown eyes seemed large and luminous in the dim light as she searched his face. ‘Did you say you loved me, Kit?’

He reached out and touched her face. The softness of her skin beneath his rough fingers sent bolts of lightning through his body. She leaned into his hand, drawing it around to her mouth, her lips brushing the palm and the fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment.

His other hand released hers. He slid it around her waist, drawing her towards him. He bent his head, his lips skimming the soft, chestnut hair.

‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Yes, I love you.’

Her arms slid up behind his neck and she drew his face down towards her. ‘Well, that is probably a good thing,’ she said, ‘seeing as I have loved you for a very long time.’

‘So,’ he whispered, ‘that makes this marriage even more convenient?’

‘It does,’ she replied.

He kissed her and her head arched back, allowing his lips to slide down her neck, finding the soft place at the base of her throat. She stiffened, pulling away from him.

‘Kit, I have little experience … after all the other women in your life … ’

He laid a finger on her lips.

‘ Croyez moi … trust me in this, Thamsine,’

Her eyes held his for a moment. ‘You’re a liar, a cheat and a rogue, Kit Lovell, but I trust you with my life.’

He lowered his mouth to hers again, gently brushing her lips with his. Thamsine tightened her arms behind his neck, locking them together in a hungry embrace.

They fell back onto the enormous old bed, hung with dusty, moth-eaten, red woollen curtains, laughing.

Thamsine raised her hand and touched his face, tracing the line of the silvered scar over his right eye, the length of his nose and the curve of his lips. ‘I will remember this moment for the rest of my life,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think it is possible to be so completely happy.’

Tears collected on her lashes, and Kit brushed them away. Was she ready for this? Should they wait?

‘Thamsine, we don’t have to … ’

She slid her arms behind his neck. ‘You silly man, I’m crying because I’m happy. Now, kiss me again.’

His smiled. ‘Kiss you? Again? You are a demanding wench. In good time. My turn.’

He propped himself up on one elbow and with a finger traced the outline of her face, the orbs of her eyes, the length of her nose, the circumference of her mouth.

She tried to bite at the finger but he removed it.

They played that game a few more times before he replaced his finger with his lips, tracing the same route, moving down her throat as he had before and lingering in the sensitive hollow of the base of her throat.

Thamsine moaned and he propped himself up again and slowly began to unlace the stomacher of her gown.

She, in turn, reached up to the laces on his shirt and undid the cord. He slipped the shirt off and she ran her fingers through the soft hairs on his chest. At her touch, he closed his eyes, the fastenings on her bodice momentarily forgotten, before bending his head and kissing her again.

Beneath his questing hand, she stiffened.

Kit backed off, his hand on her face. ‘Thamsine? Am I going too fast?’

She shook her head. ‘No, it’s wonderful. I love you, Kit Lovell, and I trust you completely.’

He smiled and stroked her hair. ‘Then let us be rid of these damned clothes.’

No two people had ever divested themselves of their clothes so quickly. Thamsine curled up in the circle of his arm, suddenly shy. Kit uncurled her, looking down at her slender body.

‘You’re beautiful, Thamsine.’ There was wonder in his voice.

‘I thought you liked women with more meat on their bones.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t know what gave you that idea. You’re perfect.’

He silenced any further comments with his lips, allowing his mouth to trace the path of his finger, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down the length of her body and the world beyond the window faded away to become just the two of them.

***

Thamsine awoke as the first light of dawn filtered through the close-built street and the grimy windows. Kit’s head rested on Thamsine’s chest, his arms encircling her, his weight pressing on her but not crushing her.

He stirred and drew her tighter into the circle of his arms, kissing her hair, his hand gently stroking her cheek. She wriggled away from him, propping herself up on one elbow, studying the strong curve of his mouth and the line of his unshaven jaw

‘What do you see?’ he enquired.

‘You are beautiful,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘No one has ever called me that before.’

She traced the lines of his scars with her finger; the puckered flesh on his left shoulder, the long silvered slash on his upper right arm, and an ugly scar that marred his right thigh, the legacy of Worcester that had almost succeeded in killing him.

‘Will you tell me about these?’

He shook his head. ‘Not now, Thamsine. Today is for us, not who we were and where we come from.’ His eyes widened as her hand slid down the long length of his torso. ‘And, my dear wife, if you keep doing that to me, we will probably forget ourselves completely.’