Page 51 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“What are you plotting, love?”
She kicked at him playfully. “Why does everyone I know assume I spend my hours scheming mischief?”
“Because you are entirely too good at it.”
“I cannot decide if I am being complimented or insulted,” she said, plucking at the ribbons of her bonnet again.
Rayne reached over and tugged the ribbons himself. “Stop fussing. I am not bringing you to Foxenclover so my mother can criticize your attire.” He removed the bonnet from her head before she could stop him.
Assuming she could put herself back together later, she did not bother to argue. “Why are we going to your country estate?”
“I doubt anyone would find it unusual that I would like to show my new bride off to my family.”
The explanation was reasonable. Too bad for him she did not believe one word of it. “I am not staff, Tipton. I am your wife. I think you owe me the truth. Everyone knows you despise your family for the way they treated you.”
He gave her a considering look. “Listening to rumors again?”
“Only when no one will give me the truth,” she said through clenched teeth.
Rayne rubbed his jaw, resuming his vigil at the window. “I should warn you that our presence will be resented. I will do my best to protect you from my mother’s tongue.”
“If this visit will bring out the worst in all parties, why are we bothering? Tell the driver to take us back to London.”
“So soon after our marriage,” he mocked. “They will say I could not tame the Bedegrayne flame.” His gaze ignited as it always did when he spoke of bedding her.
“Oh.” She glanced away, trying to quell her own body’s response. She had learned in these early days of their marriage that there was little about her that did not stir her husband to passion. “Then choose another destination.”
“Foxenclover is mine. I will not be run off.”
He watched her in his intense fashion. It no longer made her uncomfortable. What she had once mistaken for intimidation was simply his way of focusing on his objective. He had wanted her from the beginning, just as he wanted her now. She had been too inexperienced to understand.
“I want you.”
She checked the trapdoor above to make certain it was secure. “Here? I do not think so.” She laughed, encouraging him to share in the jest.
He lifted her feet to his lap and efficiently removed her slippers. “Not much space,” he spoke in a conversational manner, “but I think our creativity will compensate.” His hand glided up her stockings to her thigh.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Too sore?”
“No.” She was, but she refused to discuss the subject.
His smile was reckless, as he worked her stockings downward. “Ah, a challenge. I promise you will not be disappointed.”
True to his word, he saw to it that she was not.
