Splendid (38 page)

“Shhh, sweetheart, I'm here,” he murmured.

And he was, Emma assured herself. Every glorious naked inch of him was pressed up against her. But her chemise still lay in the way, and Emma tore at the offending garment, wanting nothing between her and her husband.

“Shhh,” he said again, stilling her hands. “I've grown rather fond of this thing.” Placing his hands on her silk-covered hips, he started to push the
chemise up along her body, leaving twin trails of fire along her sides. As it slid upward to reveal her breasts, Alex let out a murmur of appreciation and slowly leaned down to kiss each dusky nipple. Emma squirmed with pleasure, grasping at the back of his head to keep him close to her. “Mmm, I remembered that you liked that,” Alex chuckled, marveling at her wondrously responsive nature.

“Alex, get this thing off of me,” she demanded hotly.

“Oh, all right,” he teased, finally pulling the chemise over her head and letting it drift down to the floor beside the bed.

Emma glanced up at him. He still seemed so self-composed. Didn't he feel as crazy with passion as she did? With a devilish grin she leaned down and began to kiss his flat nipple the same way he had done to her. His reaction was instantaneous and more than Emma had hoped for. Bucking off the bed, he cried out, “Oh my God, Emma, where did you learn that?”

Emma moved back up to his mouth. “From you. Do you want to teach me anything else?”

“Maybe next week,” Alex growled. “I don't think I could take much more of this tonight.”

She laughed with satisfaction as Alex leaned down to kiss her ardently. At that moment all of their joking and teasing ceased, and all that remained were two hungry bodies, straining for each other in desire and passion.

Emma couldn't seem to touch enough of his skin. Her hands floated along his firmly muscled thighs up to his chest and over his shoulders. And each touch inflamed Alex's passion until he could take no more. His hand stole down the length of her body to settle over the soft curls that protected her womanhood. Emma gasped with need, clutching at
him, trying to draw him closer. Slowly Alex parted the folds of her most private skin and slipped a finger inside. She was more than ready for him.

“You're so wet,” he said in a ragged voice. “So wet and so hot and so ready for me.”

“Please Alex,” Emma begged.

Alex positioned himself over her, sliding just the tip of his manhood inside. It was torture not to plunge the full length of himself into her sweet warmth, but he knew that her body was still unused to his, and he wanted to give her time to adjust to his size.

But Emma would have none of that. “Oh, Alex, please. I need more,” she moaned, grasping at his hips, trying to draw him closer.

He could not resist her pleading, and with a rough cry he drove forward, fully sheathing himself within her. His breathing laborious, he strove to maintain an even rhythm as he pulsed forward and back, stroking her intimately.

Emma spiralled to heaven. She fought against release, wanting to prolong the perfection of the moment, but still she felt herself supping toward that shattering sense of freedom that only Alex could give her. She knew her battle was lost when he slipped his hand between their bodies and touched her intimately. And then, just moments before she knew she must explode, a cry was torn from her throat.

“Oh, God, Alex, I love you so much!”

He froze. “What did you say?” he asked hoarsely.

Emma felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a steep precipice. She needed him to keep moving. “Please Alex. Please don't leave me hanging here.”

“What did you say?” he repeated, every muscle taut.

Violet eyes met green in a soul-baring caress. “I love you.”

Alex held her gaze for another moment before plunging forward again, this time with a new sense of urgency. The last thrust was all that Emma needed, and she felt herself lose her hold on reality. Bucking off the bed with the strength of her release, she screamed his name as her world erupted into a passionate prism of light. The sweet clenching of Emma's muscles around him shattered Alex's last vestiges of restraint, and he let out a harsh cry of triumph as he exploded within her.

Many minutes later, when they were lying entwined in the delicious haze of spent passion, Alex sighed deeply, burying his face in the soft curve of Emma's neck. “I was afraid I would never hear those words,” he said quietly.

Emma sank her fingers in his thick, dark hair and tousled it. “I am still afraid I might never hear them.”

Alex drew back and cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Emma Elizabeth Dunster Ridgely,” he said solemnly. “I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul. I love you like I never dreamed it was possible to love a woman. I love you like—”

“Stop!” Emma cried out, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Why, darling?”

“I'm too happy,” she said in a choked voice.

“You can never be too happy. In fact, I intend to devote the rest of my life to ensuring that each day you live is happier than the one before it.”

“I don't think that will be very difficult as long as you remain by my side.”

Alex smiled. “As if I would ever leave.”

“Good!” Emma said saucily.

“As if you would let me,” he teased. “My fierce American duchess. You'd probably come after me with a shotgun.”

Emma sat up and swatted him with a pillow. “Beast!” Laughing merrily, she let him wrestle her back down to the bed. “Besides, I don't even know how to use a shotgun,” she said, catching her breath.

“What? My tree-climbing, fishing rod-toting duchess can't fire a shotgun? I'm disappointed.”

“Well, I am better than average with a pistol.”

Alex leaned down to kiss her. “That's more like it.”

“Alex?”

“Hmm?”

“We don't have to go back to town anytime soon, do we?”

“No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?”

“I think I'm developing a fondness for Westonbirt.”

Alex pouted. “For Westonbirt or for me?”

“For you, you big baby. But I never get to see you in London. Everyone puts such demands on your time. Do you think we could just stay here for a while?”

Alex cuddled his wife against his chest, treasuring the newfound love that shone in his heart. “I think that could be arranged.”

Chapter 22

T
he next few weeks of Emma's life were among the happiest she had ever known. She floated through the days in a blissful haze, wearing the indestructible smile of a woman who loves and is loved in return. Her life with Alex developed into a rather comfortable routine. They had all of their meals together—although many had to be brought up to their room on a tray. They went for a ride every afternoon, taking a different route each time, and Westonbirt was large enough that after three weeks Emma still hadn't seen all of the estate. Every evening after supper, they lounged in their new sitting room, reading or playing chess, or simply enjoying each other's company.

And their nights, of course, were not reserved just for sleeping.

Emma soon learned to make good use of the time she didn't spend with Alex. He had quite a few business ventures that required his attention, and he often spent time in his study going over important letters and documents. Also, there were four other estates besides Westonbirt that required careful management, and Alex didn't like to leave all the details to overseers. His tenants deserved more than an absentee landlord, and he had books and books of notes in which he tried to keep track of their progress and needs.

So while Alex was busy with all of his work, Emma set about the job of getting to know her new home. Her first venture was to have the bed in the duchess's bedroom hauled away. A quick trip to London to visit her family and shop for furniture resulted in her new sitting room getting redecorated in record time. Then she busied herself with learning about the management of the ancestral Ashbourne home. After getting acquainted with all of the servants, she spent a little extra time with the higher ones, asking them questions about the running of the household. Her meetings were doubly successful, for in addition to learning more about the inner workings of Westonbirt, she developed a sense of trust with the servants. They truly appreciated her interest in their welfare and were flattered that she bothered to ask them for advice about her new role as mistress of Westonbirt.

But one could only spend so much time redecorating and interviewing servants, and soon Emma found that she had little to do. The efficient staff ran the household like clockwork, and very little intervention was required on her part. So one morning, about three weeks into her marriage, she took the initiative and knocked on Alex's study door.

“Come in.”

Emma poked her head in the doorway. “Am I bothering you?”

Alex put the papers he'd been reading down on the desk. “No, not at all. Is it time for dinner yet?”

Emma shook her head.

Alex glanced out the window. “It's a beautiful day. Shall we have Mrs. Goode prepare us a picnic?”

“That would be lovely, thank you, but actually I just thought I'd pop in and see how you were
doing. What are those papers you're reading?”

Alex raised his eyebrows at her unexpected interest. “They pertain to an interest I have in a sugar plantation in the Caribbean.”

“Oh. May I look at them?”

“Certainly.” He held them out to her. “But I don't think you'll find them very interesting. Besides, they're in French.”

Emma picked up the papers and scanned them. Her French was not as good as Alex's, but it was good enough to get the general idea of the letters from the plantation manager. A bad season had resulted in a poor crop. Alex probably would not see a return on his investment for another year. She handed the papers back to him. “That's too bad,” she said.

“I underestimated your French.”

Emma smiled. “They do teach us a thing or two in the Colonies.”

“In the United States,” Alex corrected.

“Touche. I've been in England too long.”

Alex rose and wrapped his arms around her, dropping a chaste kiss on her nose. “Yes, well, you're English now.”

She sighed contentedly, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. “Alex?” she said against his chest.

“Hmmm?”

“I've been thinking. I've spent the last three weeks getting to know all of the servants and learning how to manage the household, but now that I've done all that there really isn't much for me to do.”

Alex tipped her face up to his. “Don't I keep you busy?” he asked in a husky voice.

Emma blushed. Their passion still embarrassed her a little when he discussed it in the light of day. “You keep my nights busy. And my meals. And our daily ride, of course. But I really don't
have anything to do while you're in here working.”

“I see. Well, I don't see why you shouldn't take over the bookkeeping for the household. After all, you handled that for your father's company. I'm sure you are up to the task. Norwood has been doing it for years, but I don't think he enjoys it very much. He much prefers being a stuffy old butler.”

Emma brightened considerably. “That would be lovely, Alex. I'll go seek him out right away.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I'll have Mrs. Goode see to that picnic basket. Why don't we meet in the great hall at one o'clock?”

At Alex's nod, she exited the study and went off in search of Norwood. She found him in a small dining parlor, inspecting some silver that had been recently polished by a newly hired maid. “Oh Norwood!” she called out to the top of his balding head from the next room.

He straightened immediately. “Yes, your grace?”

“I plan to take over the bookkeeping for the household accounts. His grace has indicated to me that you don't really enjoy doing it, and I must admit, I rather like working with numbers.”

“Yes, your grace. And pardon me for being so forward, but I must offer you my thanks. My eyes are not quite what they used to be, and all those small numbers are a bit of a strain.”

Emma offered him a sunny smile. “Then everything has worked out perfectly! And you needn't beg my pardon. I wasn't raised here in England and am not accustomed to so much formality. You shouldn't feel the least hesitation about approaching me if there is some sort of problem.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

“And you should have told his grace about your eyesight,” Emma added, shaking her head. “He would have given the bookkeeping over to someone else.”

Norwood cracked a smile—the first one Emma had ever seen touch his solemn demeanor. “That may be true, your grace, but his grace has not always been quite so, shall we say, approachable.”

Emma grimaced. “No, I suppose not. But don't let that bother you. It's really all an act. Just look how much he cares for his tenants. Still, it's not very pleasant to be on the receiving end of his temper.”

Norwood, who was unused to conversations with the Quality which lasted more than three sentences, wisely did not inquire how her grace knew so much about his grace's temper.

“Anyway, I've very much enjoyed our chat,” Emma continued. “Why don't we go and get that bookkeeping? I'd very much like to learn how you've been doing it.”

Norwood led Emma to a small office near the kitchens. It took her only a few minutes to figure out that while Norwood had been extremely scrupulous in his calculations, he was using quite the most convoluted bookkeeping system she had ever seen. After thanking him profusely for the excellent job he had done, Emma quickly attacked the books, carefully examining all of the accounts so that she might figure out the most efficient way to keep track of expenses. Before she realized it, however, it was nearly one o'clock, and she hurried over to the great hall to meet Alex for their picnic.