Page 123 of Harpy of the Ton
“You’ve as much right to be my guest as anyone,” Mrs. Trelawney said. “More so, for you have talent, and you radiate kindness—unlike some of the young women in Society. In fact…”
Her voice trailed off and she fixed her gaze on Bella. Then she shook her head.
“No matter,” she said. “Well, that’s settled, then.” She rose, and the rest of the party followed suit. Then she held out her arm. “Mrs. Baxter, shall we take a turn while our husbands discuss business?”
Bella glanced at Lawrence, and he nodded. Then she took the proffered arm, and the two women exited the parlor.
“You’ve a special woman there, Baxter,” Trelawney said. “My wife doesn’t take to just anyone. Now, shall we?”
Lawrence nodded and followed Trelawney out of the room in the wake of the women.
He had eluded discovery.
For now.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Bella grasped theweed at the base of the stem like her husband had shown her. Then she pulled. The plant resisted for a moment, then came free, bringing with it the root. She placed it on the pile beside the border, then rose to her feet and stretched, tipping her face upward to bathe in the afternoon sun.
The days were growing colder now summer had passed. But the occasional warm day enabled her to spend an hour or two in the garden. The trees were beginning to change color into the riot of reds and browns. And on a day such as today, when the sun bathed the landscape, there was no sight more beautiful than nature’s palette.
Autumn was her favorite time of year.
Or was it?
Her past was still shrouded in fog, through which the occasional gap enabled the sunlight to filter through before it closed again.
But the past didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was today. And today was the day to declare that autumn was her favorite time of year.
And to rejoice in her husband’s return home after a week working on the Trelawneys’ garden.
How she’d missed him! Only a few weeks ago she’d have welcomed the respite from his getting under her feet, adding to her chores with his endless stream of shirts to wash, the mess hemade at the kitchen table, and the dirt he trod into the cottage with his boots.
But chores were a small price to pay for what he gave her in return—both in the bedchamber and out of it.
Her cheeks warmed as she recalled last night when, alone in their bed, the children sleeping peacefully next door, she’d slipped her hand between her legs, open and eager at the thought of his taking her. To her shame, she’d run her fingertips along the sensitized flesh, imagining his own fingertips, or his…
She drew in a sharp breath at the thought of the part of him that gave her so much pleasure. Such wicked,delectablepleasure…
She closed her eyes, and her skin tightened in anticipation, as if she could feel his fingertips tracing along her neck.
“Lawrence…”
A hand cupped her breast, and she arched her back against a solid, muscular body.
“Have you been needin’ my touch as much as I’ve been wantin’ yours?”
His voice, the low growl of a ravenous beast, vibrated through her bones. She whirled around in his arms and fisted her hands in her husband’s hair, bringing their mouths together. “You’re home!”
He grasped her and pushed her back against a tree, and she let out a mewl of pleasure, her body blooming at the feel of his primal strength. What could be more glorious than being at the mercy of her man—her beast—driven by a powerful urge to mate with his female?
He fumbled at his breeches, then a cold rush of air rippled across her thighs as he lifted her skirts before thrusting himself inside her, his breath coming in short, sharp puffs.
Pleasure came quickly. She let out a cry as he filled her completely, then wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper in while his breathing steadied.
At length, he tipped his head forward, resting it on her shoulder while she held him close.
“Bella, that’s as fine a welcome as a man can hope for after a long journey! I’ve been missin’ you so bad—when I saw you in the garden, I couldn’t control myself.”
