Page 21 of The Best Husband Money Can Buy

Chapter 8

Emma awoke the next morning to blue skies and pale wintry sunshine. The events of the previous night might have seemed a dream, except that Anthony slept beside her. He was gloriously naked, with one powerful arm wrapped around her waist to hold her close. She should be embarrassed at being equally naked, but her sense of well-being was too great. The sheer animal warmth of her position made her want to purr.

She was in love. What she had felt for Anthony when she was a girl had not been mere infatuation, but the first distant notes of what was now a grand symphony of emotions. Whatever the future held, that love would always be an integral part of her.

She lay in mindless contentment until she succumbed to the need to stretch. When she moved, Anthony’s eyes opened. His dark lashes were really ridiculously long, a devastating frame for his light eyes.

His mouth curved into a smile. “Remember, any more night walks on the roof in snowstorms, and you get thrashed!”

“Yes, my lord and master,” she said, her meek words belied by her saucy smile.

His hand moved lazily, possessively, to her breasts. “I’m going to like being married to you. I’m glad you were foolish enough to propose to me.”

The desire to say that she loved him was almost overwhelming. Firmly she clamped down on it. This was not the right time for such a declaration; it might never be the right time. At least they had become friends. Not only had Anthony risked his life to rescue her from her own foolishness, but they had shared profound intimacy.

Some of her pleasure dimmed as she realized that for him, sexual relations must be a matter of course. Needing to know how he felt about what they had done, she said shyly, “Last night. Is it always as nice as that?” She felt herself blushing. “The…the being married part, I mean.”

His brows arched, and she could feel her heart sinking. Why had she assumed that he had taken any special pleasure in what she had found so rapturous?

“Nice?”he repeated in a deep, ominous voice. “We discover a rare degree of passion together, and all you can say is‘nice?’”

Even as she recognized that he was teasing, she blushed some more. “Well, I have nothing to compare it to. I would appear foolish rhapsodizing over something that was utterly routine.” She paused pensively. “Though if that was routine, no married person would ever get out of bed.”

He laughed and caught her in his arms, rolling her over so that she was lying on top of him. “No, my sweet Emma. Last night was not routine by any standard. It was special.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “As special as you are.”

She didn’t think it was possible for her to be any happier. Stretching out along his warm, muscular frame, she said softly, “I’m glad you think so.”

He skimmed his hands slowly down her back and hips, stirring delicious sensations in places that she hadn’t even known existed before the previous night. “Are you sore this morning?”

“Only a little. I’m not the least bit refined or delicate, you know. My mother once said that with all the riding and tree-climbing I did, I’d have an easy wedding night. She seems to have been right.” Emma rocked her hips against his provocatively. “I’m certainly not sore enough to forgo what I think is about to happen.”

“Delicacy is overrated,” he said huskily. “Let’snotget out of bed all day.”

And he pulled her head down for a kiss.

* * *

They did rise in time for a very late breakfast. In the cheerful confusion of the house party, they hadn’t been missed. Emma was glad when Anthony suggested a walk after they’d eaten. Much as she loved socializing with her long-lost family, she wanted to savor the enthralling new intimacy between her and her husband.

The previous night’s storm had transformed the landscape into white sculptured shapes of unearthly beauty. As the wind blew icy plumes from the drifts, they set off along a lane where no one else had walked.

The snow was about six inches deep, which made walking awkward, but Anthony helped Emma through the drifts and kissed her at every stile. When they reached the shelter of a beech wood, she gave into temptation and flopped on her back in a drift. “I’m going to make an angel,” she said as she energetically waved her arms up and down through the soft snow. “I haven’t done this since I was a child.”

Anthony laughed and lay down beside her. “Neither have I. Why do we stop doing things like this when we grow up?”

She propped herself on one elbow and studied her husband’s snow angel critically. Since he was unhampered by skirts and his cloak was less voluminous, his angel was better than hers. “I don’t know, but perhaps that’s one reason for having children. One can pretend to do childish things for their sakes, rather than for oneself.”

She hesitated, then said awkwardly, “I should have told you about the other forty thousand pounds. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, but…” Her voice trailed off. Shehadn’ttrusted him. But she did now. “I’ll tell Mr. Evans that I’ve changed my mind about putting the money in a trust.”

Anthony said gravely, “The gesture is much appreciated, but it’s not necessary. You had every right to protect your future from a man who might be irresponsible. In fact, based on my history, probably was.” He reached out and took her gloved hand in his. “We don’t need the money. Now that the mortgages are cleared, Canfield will give us a very comfortable living. Keep the trust for our children.”

She squeezed his hand, loving the way he said “our children” so naturally. It was tacit acknowledgment of the fact that they were going to build a life together.

His expression became less serious. “We’ve done snow angels. Now it’s time I taught you about snow devils.”

Her brows drew together. “I’ve never heard of them.”

A wicked light in his eyes, he stripped off his gloves and tossed them aside. “I should hope you haven’t!”

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