X enia awoke to the brightness of morning light against her eyelids, for a moment panicking that she’d overslept and was late for work in the bakery, until the softness of the sheets reminded her of her new circumstances.
She stretched languidly beneath the silken covers, her hand reaching for the solid warmth of Owen and Simon beside her.
But the space on each side was empty. Owen must have left some time ago. But where was Simon?
Rising from the bed, she let her gaze wander over the bedchamber.
She hadn’t paid it much attention before, her mind always in the depths of carnal desire when she came into the room.
The walls, dressed in sumptuous wallpaper, enclosed her in a world so different from the cozy confines of her childhood room above the bakery.
She felt as if she had stepped into a dream, or rather, stumbled into a storybook where she was still learning the rules of being a lady of the manor.
Xenia slipped into one of the finely stitched day gowns that Sarah had given her.
She pinned up her hair, giving up the fight against the few tendrils that refused to be tamed.
In the mirror, she could see how those curls softened her face.
Both Simon and Owen had a tendency to brush the hairs back, which was a gentle touch she enjoyed.
Satisfied with her looks, she went in search of Simon.
As she neared the dining room, the aroma of fresh coffee pulled her forward. Simon already sat at the head of the long dining table, his tall frame relaxed in the high-backed chair. He looked up from his newspaper and greeted her with a tender smile that was echoed in his eyes.
“Good morning, my dear.” He set aside the paper and stood to welcome her. “I trust you slept well?”
“Very well, thank you.” She poured herself a cup of tea from the pot on the sideboard, still warm, making her think he might not have been awake long.
Sitting in a chair at his side, she observed him over the rim of her teacup, noting the way his gaze lingered on her.
The way he looked at her made her feel warm, loved. Eternally happy.
Simon took a drink from his coffee and set the cup down again. “I thought we might go into the village this morning.”
“I must face my parents. And pack the rest of my clothes.” She made a mental list of her treasures she would bring with her, including her needlework.
Uncertain what her new duties involved, beyond the pleasurable ones of keeping Simon happy—and Owen—she would be glad to have something to keep her hands busy.
“We shall depart after breakfast. There are other arrangements we must discuss. I’ve written to inquire about a lady’s maid.
” He paused, reaching out to brush her cheek.
“And while I would much prefer to keep you naked in bed round the clock, we shall pay a visit to the modiste in Chester this week. You will need gowns suited to a viscountess.”
“New gowns.” Her smile widened. “How delightful.”
“We shall dress you from the skin out. Perhaps a few nightgowns, too, although I much prefer sleeping beside your naked body.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, which swelled as if he touched them. “But I cannot be selfish.”
She covered his hand with hers, stroking her fingers over one of his as if it were his shaft. “I find that most of your so-called selfish desires please me.”
“Is that so?” His breathing changed, quick breaths much like when they made love. “If it wouldn’t shock the servants, I would indulge in a few right here.”
Heat warmed her in places that were still tender from their lovemaking the night before.
At times she thought she’d never be sated, but having two men pleasuring her also meant twice as much friction on tender skin.
Owen enjoyed taking her with his mouth as much as his erection, for which she was grateful, but her best orgasms came when she was filled front and rear with their cocks.
She was sure they—all three of them, not just her men—would eventually settle into a routine of a few nights a week to enjoy each other.
The pace they kept up now, much of which was begun by her, would wear her out.
She forced herself to focus on their original topic, the items she would need in her new life. “I don’t need many gowns, and as you say, I find myself not needing nightclothes...”
“Xenia,” he interjected gently, “this is your home now, your life. I wish only to see you happy and at ease here. You will make new friends who will expect you to wear the latest fashion. I won’t have you feeling as if they are above you.”
Her heart swelled at the sincerity in his hazel eyes. “I appreciate all you’re doing for me. Truly, Simon, I am grateful.”
“Some of my reasons are selfish, too. I can’t have people thinking I’m a miserly husband. I want all men to look upon you and be envious of my beautiful bride. To see you take your place by my side fills me with no end of joy.”
“A poor wife I would be if I denied my husband his happiness.” She was such a lucky woman, to have a man such as this love her. Owen, too, although his role didn’t seem to include being a material provider. He gave of his heart, same as Simon, and that was more than she deserved.
* * *
After Xenia was introduced to the servants, she and Simon went into the village, as discussed. As they alighted from the carriage in front of the bakery, guilt hit her once again. Having excluded her parents from such an important moment would plague her for the rest of her days, she feared.
The ring of the bell on the door as they entered comforted her with its familiarity. “Papa, Mama,” she called out.
Her parents came out from the bakery’s kitchen, their faces bright with happiness. Mama held her arms out for a hug. “Lord and Lady Kinnerton. I never could have imagined it.”
Xenia accepted the embrace, noting her father’s handshake with Simon.
“You make us very happy parents,” Papa said. “I won’t make the expected speech demanding you take care of our girl, as I know you will.”
“I must say, I thought it would be Owen who won her heart,” Mama said.
Xenia cringed. Her mother said some of the boldest things, sometimes.
Simon chuckled. “As it turns out, the better man won.”
Now Xenia blushed, thinking of the contests she’d forced on the two men. Her parents would never suspect there was anything scandalous about his comment, but she and Simon knew. She quickly changed the subject. “I must apologize for?—”
“My child,” her father interrupted, his eyes twinkling with a knowing warmth that belied any sternness she had braced herself for.
He wrapped an arm casually across her mother’s shoulders.
“There’s no need for explanations. I understand at times the fire of young love burns too fiercely to be delayed by ceremony or announcement.
I’m just happy you finally found that love. ”
Xenia’s mouth parted in muted astonishment, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had always encouraged her to chase after her desires.
She had expected disappointment or even anger, but instead found understanding—a reflection of the romance that had once blossomed between her own parents, and continued to flourish today.
“Thank you, Papa.” she whispered, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears.
Her father returned to the bakery kitchen while Mama went upstairs with Xenia and Simon. While Xenia quickly packed her few possessions, Mama went into the small kitchen at the back of their home.
A few minutes later, she entered Xenia’s bedchamber.
In her hands, she cradled a serving dish Xenia recognized as the one Mama used on special occasions, its surface marred by hairline fractures in the glaze that spoke of countless meals and washings.
“My lord, Xenia, my parents gave this bowl to Mr. Arbuckle and me when we wed. I wish for you to have it now.” Her fingers caressed the rim as she spoke.
Her mother’s gesture made Xenia think of her own family’s heritage, humble thought it was. With trembling hands, she took the dish. “Thank you, Mama.”
“I realize it’s merely ironware, but it has served us through many joyous occasions,” Mama said, looking at Simon apologetically.
Beside her, Simon took the dish, freeing Xenia’s hand for her sorting and packing. “We shall treasure this, and one day pass it to our daughter.”
Xenia glanced at her husband, her heart brimming with a love that grew stronger with each thoughtful word he spoke. She knew he meant the sentiment and that her family history was just as important as his own.
Too soon, she finished packing and gave one last look around the room that had been hers since birth.
This was where she first realized she cared for Simon and Owen, the start of years of fantasies that matured as her understanding of love and carnal relations grew.
Now she was living those dreams. She, Simon, and Mama went downstairs so she could say goodbye to her father.
“Thank you, Mama, Papa, for understanding, for this...” She gestured to the basket that held the bowl, now wrapped carefully in cloth. “And for everything.”
Her father, a man of few words, enveloped her in his strong arms. “We always wished the best for you. I never imagined it would turn out as well as it did.”
Mama hugged her and pressed a kiss on her cheek.
“You must come to supper soon,” Xenia said.
Simon nodded. “Ready, my love?”
She forced herself to leave. As much as she was enjoying being married, a small part of her would always be in the bakery.
* * *
On a lazy afternoon not long after Xenia had moved into the manor house, Simon rose from his desk, missing her company. He sought her in the morning room and the library, but she was neither place. He went to the bedchamber next, where he found her stretched on the bed with a book in her hand.
She smiled when she looked up to see him enter. “Good afternoon, husband.”