Lady Reckless (Notorious Ladies of London Book 3) by Scarlett Scott

Author:Scarlett Scott [Scott, Scarlett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Happily Ever After Books, LLC
Published: 2020-10-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Those who feel women should be denied the Parliamentary franchise because of their intellectual inferiority should, perhaps, have their own mental acuity examined instead.

—From Lady’s Suffrage Society Times

He woke to his wife, naked and glorious, sleeping peacefully beside him. Even in her slumber, she encroached upon him, her slim ankle crossed over his calf, tendrils of golden hair on his pillow, her fingers grazing his shoulder. It was, he thought, rather symbolic of their marriage.

A marriage which he had made permanent and inextricable last night.

Excellent restraint, Gabe. Two days into your marriage, and you have already bedded her.

He winced at the realization. It was his fault, everything that had happened over the last few weeks. From the moment he had touched her for the first time, he had been lost. There had never been any hope of this conflagration between them ending in anything other than the rumpled bed upon which they now lay.

Still, as he watched her, slumber softening her lovely countenance, a riotous blonde curl on her cheek, the resentment and shame that had been his almost-constant companion was supplanted by a rush of tenderness instead. He longed to tamp it down, that unwanted emotion. But it had taken hold, like a weed in a garden.

Making love to her had been a mistake.

He never should have done it. He could not wait to do it again.

His morning cockstand twitched at the thought of plunging into her tight, wet heat. Of waking her with kisses and then rolling her to her back…

No.

That would not do him a whit of good. For one, she may still be sore after their lovemaking the night before. For another, it would only further enslave him to her. He could not afford to allow his desire for Helena to cloud his mind. Time and distance, a polite marriage of mutual respect—Shropshire—remained what he needed.

Consummating their marriage did not have to change anything, including his plans. Taking care to keep from waking her, Gabe disengaged from her body and left the bed. His discarded dressing robe was easily found in the early morning shadows, abandoned where he had left it in a heap upon the Axminster. He stuffed his arms into the robe and fastened it, trying to banish the steam from his head, the poison from his blood.

The rustling of bedclothes and her sleepy sigh reached him as he lingered, breathing in the new scent of the countess’s apartments. Bergamot and citrus and something that was purely Helena. Looking back to the bed he had left her in was a mistake. The pale curve of her rump was on display, and one of her full breasts had slipped free of the bedclothes, a pink, pouting nipple taunting him.

My God, how the hell am I going to leave her?

He was not going to.

Realization hit him right in his thudding heart.

He could not leave for Shropshire now. Anything he needed to discuss with his steward there could be conducted from afar. Traveling there had been naught but an excuse, an easy means of escape.

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