Page 92 of The Moonstone Marquess
He gave a snorting laugh. “I hate the thought of either one. I think I would rather you sleep on my right. At least that way you’ll see me whole.”
“Hen always thinks things to death, and I see you are just like her. I’m glad you want me in your bed. I wouldn’t like us to sleep apart. Beyond this, I don’t think I’ll care.”
“You will, Phoebe.”
She shrugged. “We’ll see.”
He planted a heated kiss on her neck, followed by a string of soft kisses along its curve to her shoulder. Then he turned her to face him and kissed her along the swell of her bosom. “You have the prettiest body. I’m going to enjoy our nights together, but especially waking up to you each morning.”
“We’ll see how much you enjoy it when I snore in your ear all night.”
He laughed. “Love, I think mine will drown yours out.”
They sat quietly after that, listening to the cawing of the gulls hovering over the water in search of fish, and thewhooshingof the waves lapping the shore. The wind softly whistled around them and the sun darted in and out of white, tufted clouds.
The moment felt idyllic, and she treasured it.
But she was also eager to lie beside Cormac and know his touch. He said she had a pretty body, but his was museum-worthy. Big. Muscled. Broad and hard.
A man’s body.
She wanted to talk to Hen about what would be expected of her on their wedding night. She thought it would be wonderful, but she couldn’t be sure what would happen, especially if Cormac allowed his happiness to be diminished by the lost arm that still haunted him.
Was there something she could do to make him forget it once they were in bed?
Or was this something too intimate to ever ask her sister?
Chapter Eighteen
Cormac had wanteda small wedding at first, but he was glad Cain and Hen ignored his wishes and turned it into a splash of a party. Had there been less bustle and activity swirling around him, he would have been thinking too much about everything.
Mostly of his wedding night with Phoebe.
Logically, he knew it would be fine because he knew his way around a woman’s body and had no doubt Phoebe would respond to his touch.
But he hated the thought of baring his body, no matter that Phoebe had seen him without his shirt on and never flinched.
He cared about it.
She didn’t.
So why was he fretting over something that was inconsequential to her?
He was also feeling nostalgic because today’s nuptials would also mean the end of his month with his little ducklings.
The girls would return to London with his brother and Charlotte, who had arrived two days ago to reclaim them. For once, he did not mind Charlotte fluttering about like a peahen. It served as a distraction.
“John, you had better not cry at the wedding,” Cormac said as he and his brother stood together in his bedchamber at Westgate Hall while his valet assisted him in dressing.
“I cannot help it.” His brother was usually the staid, even-tempered one, but he could not stop sniffling or tearing up. “They are joyful tears.”
“Gad, you sound like an old woman. Why don’t you go see if your daughters and Charlotte are ready?”
“Don’t tell me what to do, you arse. I never thought this day would come or that you would make such a fine choice for yourself. You owe me. I’ll have you know I lived through a month of hell because Charlotte was sure you would lose the girls or forget you had them.”
Cormac sighed. “I never would.”
“I know. I never would have sent them off to you had I a single doubt about your diligence. But Charlotte is their mother and missed them terribly. She was sure they would be miserable without us.” John laughed as he wiped aside a tear. “I think they’ll now be feeling miserablewithus. You are clearly their favorite. They cry at the mention of our going home and will miss you so much.”
