Page 60 of Love Unraveled
Sophia relished theboat ride, but she was even more excited about the night ahead. When they arrived at Greenwich Pier, both her footman, Stephens, and Raimondo were waiting for them. Stephens assisted the captain in gathering glasses and plates, and together they brought the picnic basket onto shore. Raimondo stood with arms crossed, a surly old bear.
“You were to take the day off,” she said with a smile, refusing to allow his displeasure to taint her day. “You do not follow orders well.”
He grunted and took over from the captain, helping Stephens carry the basket to where her carriage waited. Charles tipped his hat at them from where he still sat on the box, and Gaston kept his arm around her waist as they watched them secure the basket. It felt so domestic and mundane on a day that had proven to be anything but.
Raimondo opened the door, and Gaston assisted her in.
“And where might we drop you, signore?”
Sophia did not miss the antagonism in Raimondo’s voice. He was far too overprotective, and it did not usually bother her, but she was tired of fighting his displeasure with Gaston’s presence. He might as well know what direction the wind was blowing. She leaned out before Gaston responded.
“Raimondo,” she snapped, garnering his immediate attention. “We will go directly home. Then you and Stephens will go to Gaston’s rooms and gather his things. He will be living with us.” She paused, taking a second to digest the reality of her statement. “Permanently,” she added at Raimondo’s frown.
Gaston hopped into the carriage, a grin splitting his face almost in two as he closed the door on Raimondo. “I can’t say I did not enjoy that.”
Sophia could not return his enthusiasm. Raimondo meant well. She trusted him and Stefano with the details of her activities. He worried greatly about her involvement. Compounded with a general distrust of the English, it made him a formidable protector. Stefano was not so intense, but Raimondo always insisted he remain at the country estate so nothing untoward could happen there while they were in London. She believed Raimondo’s overbearing behavior was not simply in honor of Carmine but because he truly cared for her well-being.
Gaston rubbed her leg. “I jest. I am grateful you have had someone to look out for you.”
She set her hand on top of his. “Thank you. It is important you accept him as he is, for he is not going anywhere either.” She had been as loyal to Carmine’s staff as they had been to her. She’d set them up with pensions, but they chose to continue with her anyway.
The carriage began to roll, and they returned their attention to the day, reminiscing as though it had happened months ago and not simply in the last few hours. When the carriage rattled to a stop, she looked at Gaston. “Welcome home, husband.”
His face grew serious, and his eyes misted, and Sophia’s heart grew too big for her chest. “At last,” he said quietly, raising her hand to his mouth and whisking a kiss across her knuckles. “At last.”
Later, after the arrival of Gaston’s meager collection of items, they sat across from each other in her small sitting room. She had offered him one of her guest rooms if he preferred it to sharing hers. Carmine had kept his own rooms and rarely entered hers. She understood it was often a preference for couples. Gaston had asked what she wished and had given his chipped-tooth grin when she’d said she wished for him to join her in her bed every night. Her body was strung as tight as the strings on a violin. A bath was being poured, and the anticipation of sharing it with Gaston was both titillating and unnerving.
“You are worried,” he said.
“Why would you say such a thing?” she asked, although it was precisely what she was. She was not a young girl of seventeen anymore. She was a mature woman of thirty-three, and her body reflected those years. She knew she was voluptuous and enticing in a gown, but she had not tested it without clothing. It was daunting.
“When you worry, two little perpendicular lines appear between your eyes.” Gaston pushed from his chair and strode the short distance between them. He pressed a finger between her eyes. “Right here.” He rubbed her skin, his finger slowly circling. Like a dog who loves a good scratch, she wanted to lean into him and let him soothe away her anxiety.
A tap sounded at the door, and when bidden entrance, Cara stuck her head in. “The bath is ready,signora mia.”
“Thank you, Cara. That will be all for the night.” She waited until the door clicked before returning her gaze to Gaston. “I trust that is fine with you. I may need some help.”
Gaston’s smile was slow and sensual as he held out his hand. “I am at your service, but I may need some instruction.”
Sophia suspected he knew exactly what to do, a notion she’d not wish to dwell upon. Instead, she smiled in return as she put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.
They walked into her boudoir, and they both stopped and stared at the bed. Sophia had had many nightmares in that bed recently. The last few nights, the dark memories had been supplanted with visions of young lovers. It would seem those dreams were about to come true. Except for the young part. She turned into Gaston before she dwelled any longer on the years in between.
He tasted of the brandy they’d enjoyed, and she savored him, tracing his tongue with hers before gently sucking it. He groaned and pushed away.
“Non. My body is too hot for you and must cool.” He turned her around, and his fingers swept across the back of her neck before he settled into the task of undoing the clasp of her necklace.
She took it from his hands and set it on her dressing table. When she straightened, he pulled the pins from her hair methodically, one by one. When he was done, he leaned past her to set them down, his rough chin grazing her shoulder. She ran her fingers across her scalp, loosening the chignon and shaking her head to make her hair fall. Gaston lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck before letting the weight of her locks settle again.
She debated whether they should undress in her bedroom or in the bathing room. She decided the bed would be far too great a distractor and they would never find the bath, so she took his hand and led him into the adjoining room. She smiled, glad she had. Cara had drawn the drape across the window that lit Sophia’s morning bath and had scattered candles around the room. Rose petals floated delicately on top of the water. She swallowed a smile. She assumed the petals came from the duke’s flowers. Like Catherine and Elizabeth, Cara had never liked him and had probably had great pleasure at plucking his gift apart.
From behind, Gaston wrapped his arms around her, his hands fisted together just below her breasts. He rested his chin on her shoulder and tilted his head sideways until their temples touched. “It is magical,mon amour.Youare magical.” He turned his head and kissed her temple. “I am unsure,” he said against her head.
“As am I.” After so many years playing the seasoned widow, she was overwhelmed by the reality of her limited experience.
“Together, we will find solid land beneath our feet.”
She turned to him, grateful he understood, oddly pleased he was as unbalanced as she. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, losing herself in the sensuality of his response. Eventually, she pulled away, anxious to move on to the next level of intimacy. “It is a simple sash,” she said, turning and presenting her back.
