The Brigadier's Runaway Bride (Dukes of War Book 5) (19 page)

She would tell him tonight. The day he deemed the children old enough to travel, off to Kent they would go. She would not put him through this torture a moment longer.
 

Maidstone would be better for all of them. They would finally be able to go out-of-doors. To enjoy life.

As a family.

She tucked the last infant into his cradle after his feeding and touched a hand to her unsightly stomach. It didn’t matter. The scars, the loose skin—none of it mattered. What mattered was her family.

Sarah was a good mother. Of that, she had no doubt. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her children.
 

She was also a good wife. Or at least, she tried to be. She loved Edmund more than her heart could hold. She hadn’t wanted to disappoint him with what her body had become… but her body was
her
. Just because she couldn’t undo the effects of pregnancy and childbirth, did that mean she was to withhold the physical love they both needed for the rest of their lives?

He deserved love.
She
deserved love. The one thing they should always be able to count on was each other.

Tonight, she would prove it.

She shook the wrinkles from her day dress as best she could and pushed fallen tendrils of hair back into the twist behind her head. Her babies had just been fed, so she would not need to fear another embarrassing leak. She only had to fear her husband’s rejection.

Her fingers trembled. If he were repulsed by her body… if he could no longer make love to her, her heart would break. But she would no longer prevent him from trying. She forced her spine straight and adjusted her bodice. Not tonight. Right now.

She would seduce her husband.
 

She strode out the nursery door. Edmund, she discovered, was at the fireplace in their bedchamber stoking a few orange embers into a fire. His jacket lay across the back of one of the small sitting chairs, leaving his shirtsleeves to billow about his arm muscles as he worked.

Sarah paused in the doorway to watch. She loved the singleminded concentration he focused on everything he did. She loved the strength in his body. Watching his muscles move. She loved how the crackling fire cast a warm glow over his hands and profile, highlighting his strong chin, his firm lips, his dark brow.

She loved Edmund.
 

When he replaced the poker in its stand and turned to face her, she realized he was not surprised at her presence. He’d known she was watching him. And had given her the space to do as she willed.
 

His eyes met hers. Blue. Arresting.
 

“Have you come to mother me because of my outburst?”

She shook her head. “I’ve come to seduce you.”

His pupils dilated as his gaze heated.
 

She smiled. He hadn’t been surprised at her presence, but he’d been very surprised at the reason.

He held up a palm. “By all means.”

Heart pounding in sudden nervousness, she turned and headed for the bed.

He did not follow her.

She bit her lip. “Aren’t you joining me in bed?”

“Aren’t you going to seduce me?” he countered softly.

Her eyes widened.
 

He was right. Had their roles been reversed, the seduction would have to begin long before they tumbled into bed. She cocked her head and gazed at him for a moment.
 

What would seduce her husband? Should she untie her garter ribbons and roll down her stockings one inch at a time? Or should she grab him by the hand, boldly, beguilingly, and tug him beside her underneath the covers?

None of those things, she decided. She was no longer a coquette, nor would she allow herself to keep hiding her body. This was a new kind of seduction. Her husband stood before the fireplace. Therefore, she would go to him.

She approached the fireplace without attempting to mask her nervous hesitance with false confidence. She was Sarah. For better or for worse. And she would seduce him without pretending to be anything other than who she was.

Stepping out of her slippers and onto the thick carpet made her feel bolder. The soft texture against the silk of her stockings meant she had
begun
. There was no going back. There was only Edmund.

She took his fingers in hers. “Good evening, husband.”

“Good evening, wife.” His eyes glittered in the firelight.

She gestured toward one of the chairs. “Please, have a seat. Allow me to remove your boots.”

He chose the closest one and sat. He dwarfed the slender chair. It was armless and expertly carved and had barely been used in the two months they’d been living here. They’d been too busy with the infants to take time for themselves.

Until now.

She sank to her knees before him and placed her hands around the ankle of one of his tall leather Hessians. As she tugged each boot free, she did not look at her hands, but rather kept her eyes on her husband’s face.

He was gazing at her with an intensity that made her toes curl.
 

She set his boots aside and ran her hands up his calves, over his knees, onto his legs, close to his lap. Then she spun around, nestling her back between his knees, and lifted the stray tendrils from the nape of her neck to expose her spine.
 

“Unbutton me?” The words were spoken as a question, but they both knew it was not. He had been waiting for this moment just as long as she had.

With a growl, he placed his strong fingers against her spine and made short work of unfastening her gown.

She did not retreat. The dress gaped along her back, but there were two more layers beneath. “Now my stays.”

For nine months, she hadn’t worn them.
 

There were no stays on earth wide enough to accommodate her pregnant body. For the first month after giving birth, her less rotund form could technically be bound by whalebone and quilted linen, but the excess bits bulging out the top of the stays did more harm than good to her silhouette.

About a fortnight ago, she’d realized most of her body had returned close enough to its original width to employ stays anew. ’Twas ironic. Where once she had cursed the inflexible busk’s ability to inhibit movement, she now rejoiced in the ability to cage herself in it at all. Stays might not be the most comfortable of women’s underclothing, but they made her feel feminine and pretty—something she’d desperately needed.

Feeling her husband’s large fingers gently loosen the corded ribbon made every moment of her beauty toilette worth it. She felt like herself again. Like she was someone desirable.

Once her stays were loosened, she placed her palms atop her husband’s legs and rose to her feet. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she pushed her day dress off her shoulders and let it slide to the floor.
 

Edmund swallowed. His hands clamped the tops of his legs as if he were forcing himself not to reach for her.
 

She unfastened the front of her stays and dropped them onto the other chair. She would not be sitting there. She would be right here, seducing her husband.

Freed from its bindings, her thin white chemise fluttered against her naked body. Cool air and low heat from the nearby fire sent warmth and gooseflesh chasing across her skin.
 

She was nervous in a way she hadn’t been a year ago, in Bruges. The first time they’d made love, her biggest fear was the actual mechanics. How much it might hurt. Whether her ignorance would disappoint him.
 

She no longer had any fear of the act itself. She’d spent long, aching nights yearning for his touch. Now he was here, in front of her. Waiting to be seduced. She touched her fingertips to his chest.
 

“I dislike this waistcoat.”

He raised his brows. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You’re still wearing it.” She arched a brow.

He shrugged out of his waistcoat in a matter of seconds. “Happy?”

She shook her head. “I seem to also have strong feelings against your shirt. Its presence offends my sensibilities.”

He crossed his arms at his waist to pull the offending garment up and over his head, but she stopped him.

She lifted the edge of her chemise just high enough to allow her to straddle his thighs. Perched atop him, her breasts were now at the same height as his parted lips.
 

Slowly, she tugged the shirt free from his waistband. Little by little, she eased it up over the muscled planes of his abdomen, up over corded scars crisscrossing his chest, up over his head and off into the shadows.
 

She lowered her head and brushed her lips against his. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Are you?” he growled.

She smiled. “Absolutely.”
 

Her heart pounded as she suckled his lower lip into her mouth, kissing, licking, tasting. Wanting.
 

At last he wrapped her in his arms, sinking his fingers into her hair and holding her to him as his mouth devoured hers with kisses.

The familiar sensual ache began to pool between her legs. This time, she wasn’t lying frightened in the shadows, afraid to let him touch her. This time, she was astride his strong thighs. Trapping him between her breasts and the chair.

Her breath quickened. She felt powerful. Beautiful.
Desired
.
 

She tore her mouth from his, panting, and brought her lips to his ear. “Make love to me.”

“Make me.” He pressed a trail of hot kisses down the curve of her throat. He trapped the edge of her bodice in his teeth and jerked the thin linen down to expose her breasts.

She gasped as his tongue dragged sensuously over her nipples. Her body was more than ready for him. Every inch of her was trembling with anticipation, begging him to make her his.
 

Make me
, he’d challenged her. Very well. She couldn’t wait any longer.

She gathered her chemise up to her waist and reached her hand between their bodies to unbutton the fall of his breeches. His shaft sprang free to rub tantalizingly against the heat of her slick core. Thrilled at her own boldness, she touched her fingers to her sensitive cleft then wrapped her wet fingers around his erect member.

His mouth slackened, his entire body stiffening in pleasure. She rose up on her toes to position his shaft at her opening and then slowly, deliciously, sank back down until he was fully sheathed.
 

His mouth captured hers, giving, taking. He gripped her hips as she rode him, letting her guide the rhythm.

She wrapped her arms about his neck. He was her anchor. Her tempest.

He closed his fist about her chemise, raising the hem to lift it over her head.

She froze. Not because she wanted to make it easier for him to remove her chemise—but because her brain had flooded with all the fears of how he would react once he had done so.

His eyes met hers just as he lifted the hem breast height and he paused in concern. “What is it?”

A flush crept across her skin. “I just… want you to think me beautiful.”

“You
are
beautiful.” He tore the chemise over her head and took her mouth in a searing kiss. “You think I married you for your beauty? Bloody right, I did.” His hands cradled her face. “Nothing can ever take it from you. You’ll be beautiful to me when you’re eighty years old and missing most of your teeth.”
 

She swallowed. “It’s already too late. My body…”

“How could I fail to love your body? I love
you
.” He rocked his hips so she would feel his shaft buried deep within her. “You’re everything. With you, the past melts away. With you, I have a future.”

Her back arched as his words washed over her.
He loved her
. She lifted up and sank back down, taking him into her body and her heart. “I thought you would hate my scars. I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

He lifted her breasts to his face and ran his tongue across the sensitive nipples. “I will always want you. I have my scars, you have yours. Scars aren’t ugly, darling. They’re visible signs of how strong you are.”

“How strong
we
are,” she said, her voice breathless at the twin sensations of his mouth on her breasts as his shaft drove within her.
 

“I’m yours, Sarah,” he said between kisses. “I would cross the world to be with you. To feel your body wrapped around me and know you were mine forever.”

The pressure built so strong, she was certain she would shatter against him. “Edmund, please—”

“Thank God.” He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her to ride her faster.
 

She gasped as her muscles clenched around him, pleasure filling her until she was spent and breathless.
 

He wrapped his arms around her and she sagged against him in sated wonder. She was in love.
He
was in love. Their future was wide open. She lay her cheek against his shoulder and held him close. They weren’t just a family…