Page 74 of The Duke's Second Bride
They reached their climaxes simultaneously, clinging to each other as well as the slipperiness of the situation would allow.
As they both panted, they kissed again.
“Well,” Christian said, pulling back for a moment. “It looks like my bathing idea wasn’t so good, after all.”
Ava’s brows knit together. “You don’t think so?” she said. “Why not?”
Christian kissed her again. She felt him stir again inside her, and moaned into his mouth as he hardened again, and began once more to rock up into her.
“I was meant to get you clean,” he murmured, “but now it’s the last thing on my mind.”
“I don’t mind that at all,” she said, already breathless with pleasure once more.
She rolled her hips along his length. His hands flew to her waist, and he guided her movements up and down.
At one particularly strong thrust upwards from him, she threw her head back, running her hands down his chest. Her breasts bounced gently in the open air, and he ran his hands up towards them, caressing them as they moved together as one.
When they both climaxed again, they were entirely spent. She collapsed against his chest.
Christian washed her down with a cloth and then carried her out of the bath. He wrapped her in a towel and carried her to bed, where he combed her hair, before they kissed passionately until dinner was ready.
The dining room glowed with firelight and candlelight, a golden cocoon against the cool dusk outside. The silver and crystal gleamed, but the atmosphere was far from formal.
Luke was already halfway through his portion of roast chicken, eagerly telling them about what he’s lately been reading with his tutor.
“It was about the… the Romans,” he said, the faintest catch still lacing his words. His brow pinched in frustration, but he pressed on, brave. “Did you know they b-built roads so straight that you can still see them now? Even after all this time?”
Ava leaned forward, eyes bright with interest. “Truly? That is remarkable. You shall have to show me which roads when next we travel. Perhaps you can be our guide.”
Luke grinned, his shoulders squaring at the thought. Christian’s chest warmed at the sight. The boy had struggled so long to find his words, yet here he was, holding forth at his own dinner table, encouraged by a woman who knew precisely how to draw him out.
“They had, ah, baths, too,” Luke continued, his voice growing stronger. “Whole buildings for them, where people could meet and talk. Like—like coffeehouses, but with water.”
Christian chuckled. “I daresay the ton might appreciate that. At least the stench of politics might be more bearable if drowned out by soap.”
Ava laughed, the sound rippling through the room like music. “Oh, but then we should never get the gentlemen out again. They would spend all their hours lounging in steam.”
Luke giggled, and the sound was so light, so unguarded, that Christian felt a lump rise in his throat. For all his sternness, he could not keep from smiling when his son’s happiness filled the air.
They continued eating, and Luke kept sharing small discoveries: a sketch he had made in his copybook, a funny story he had overheard from the stable hands. Ava listened as if every detailwere a treasure, and soon Luke’s words tumbled faster, with only the faintest of stammers lingering.
Then, between bites of pudding, he grew thoughtful. His gaze slid to Ava, curious and intent.
“Ava,” he asked, voice careful, “what was your father like?”
Christian’s fork froze in mid-air. The question seemed to drop into the room like a stone into still water.
Ava set her spoon down gently, and a softened sadness dulled her brilliant features that she quickly smoothed over.
“My father?” she repeated, her voice even. “He was a very proper man. He cared a great deal about appearances. He wanted his daughter to be a lady above all else.”
Luke tilted his head. “Did… did he read with you? Or play games?”
Ava’s smile was tender, though Christian saw the truth beneath it. “Not much, no. He was not a playful sort. My mother wasn’t either. They thought games made one careless.”
Christian’s jaw tightened, a hot flare of anger sparking in his chest.
A childhood without play. He could scarcely bear to imagine it. Not for Ava.
