Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
He watched as she considered her answer. He certainly noticed her blush, with her cursed pale skin.
“I’m fine, dear August. Very fine. I mean, entirely comfortable and…well, perhaps not well-rested, but that is neither here nor there—”
He cut off her blathering with a kiss, a gentle, lingering brush of lips over hers. How strange to lie beside her friend and receive such attentions.
He drew back and looked at her again. “You are truly all right, Lisbet? I did not overstep last night?”
Overstep? She wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“I’m perfectly fine,” she assured him. “Although I don’t know how I shall face my mama and papa at breakfast.” She put her hands to her hot cheeks. “Am I blushing again?”
“You’ve not stopped blushing since you opened your eyes.” He grinned at her. “And as long as you’re smiling, your mama and papa will be delighted.” He glanced at the window. “Delighted to see you at luncheon, that is. I fear breakfast has come and gone.”
*
There were no plans for an immediate honeymoon, with the weather so cold and wintry. To Elizabeth, that was just as well. The Christmas Day celebrations were enough to make her feel like a newlywed bride. Her friends and family teased her, calling her Lady Augustine at every turn as the company drank cider, ate sweets, and opened gifts after dinner in the parlor.
August’s gift to her was a sedate woolen scarf. He blushed and laughed as she opened it. Of course, he’d brought a gift for a friend’s sister, not a wife. Her gift to him was a work of music, since they’d had piano lessons in common. The night before they were to leave Cairwyn, he took her to her grandpapa’s music room to play it for her.
They’d been married three days by then. They’d kissed and snuggled, and explored one another’s bodies each of the nights after retiring to their nuptial chamber, although he had not put his thing—his cock—inside her yet. She was content to let him lead, as her mother suggested. He told her he intended to take things slow until they grew more familiar with one another. Well, familiar as lovers, since they were now so much more than friends…
Going to the music room together reminded her of their lessons, of Cousin Larissa eating biscuits and August lecturing her for her poor practice habits. She hummed along to the waltz she’d given him as his fingers played over the keys. The piano was ever so slightly out of tune, but with his talent, the song sounded good anyway.
Those fingers could do marvelous things.
When he finished the waltz, he transitioned to a new piece by memory, a rich, melodic sonata from the previous century. He altered some of the well-known passages with his own improvisations, adding sweeping runs and extra chords. His sideways glances made her giggle.
“I’ll never play like you,” she said as he shifted to a lazy gavotte.
“You can easily play as well as me if you practice. You have the talent.” He graced her with an encouraging smile. “But you must love music, truly adore it, to play it well.”
“You’ve adored it forever, since you were a little boy.”
Was she hearing his thoughts, or merely stating the obvious? She mustn’t get in the habit of trying to read him. If he worried about her perceiving his every thought, he’d soon go mad. She rested her head against his shoulder, suppressing a yawn.
“Getting tired, love?” he asked, changing the gavotte to a lullaby. “Shall we retire? We’ve a long journey back to Oxfordshire in the morning.”
“Not yet. Not until your pretty lullaby is done.”
“Ah, but I can make it go on forever. Until you’re fast asleep.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t go to sleep here, or you’ll have to carry me upstairs.”
“Do you think I couldn’t?”
She leaned closer against him, against his solid strength and muscled arm. “I’m sure you could, but what if you tripped upon the stairs?”
“This manor’s old stone stairs?” He pulled a grimace, sounding a dissonant note. “That wouldn’t be good for you.” He played a few more measures, beginning the lullaby again. “Are you excited to go home? Home to St. Pierre with me?”
“Of course. I’m your countess now.” It still felt strange to say it. “I suppose I must meet the servants and set up my rooms.”
“I hope you’ll furnish your rooms, and the entire house, any way you like, no matter the expense. I want you to feel comfortable. And I’ll set up an allowance for your household needs, for things like gowns and shoes and…whatever else you like.”
“You’re very kind.”
“Isn’t that what husbands do? Spoil their wives?” He chuckled. “That’s what my friends do. I’ve not studied on it much. I find myself married a bit sooner than expected.”
“That, too, was very kind of you.” He jested, but she answered with sincerity. “I’m so grateful to you, August.”