He lifted her face so she was forced to meet his gaze. Did he see everything she felt? The pleasure and relief, the tremulous adoration? The fear that he might still dismiss her as a child?
“Was I all right?” she asked. “You must tell me if anything was lacking. I’m eager to learn what you like best in these matters, if you would like me to be more vocal, or less vocal, or more active, or less active, or learn any sort of tricks that might add to your—”
He silenced her with a kiss. His leg came over hers and he drew her closer so his manhood nestled between them. To her shock, it was hard and stiff again. As he kissed her, he parted her legs and eased his way inside.
“Oh, you would like to...again,” she breathed against his lips.
“Yes. Oh, God.” He sounded like he was praying. “Absolutely. Again.”
*** *** ***
August came awake in the morning with a start, disarranging the cushions he’d piled before the fireplace. Somehow, in last night’s passionate endeavors, they had never made it up to bed. A hearthside blanket preserved Minette’s modesty as she slumbered in his arms, her head cradled against his chest. He hugged her closer before he realized what had awakened him. A tall, blond visitor stood staring at them just inside the door.
“Warren. Jesus.” August angled his body to shield Minette from her brother.
“Everything’s in order, then? Very well.” Warren turned on his heel to leave. August’s irritated exclamation had roused Minette to half-wakefulness.
“Is it morning already?” she sighed, wrapping her arms about his neck.
“No, darling. Don’t wake yet. I’ll be right back.”
He extricated himself from his drowsy wife and jumped into his breeches, and chased Warren down the hall.
“You might have knocked,” he said to his friend’s back.
“I wish I had.”
“What are you doing here?”
Warren turned. His eyes flicked with distaste to August’s bare chest. “You’re not dressed.”
“Why are you here? What do you want?”
“What do you think I want?” he snapped. “I wanted to check on my sister. I wanted to ask her again if she wouldn’t rather leave. And then I find you...and her...” His lips twisted in a grimace.
“You ought to be happy.”
“That you bedded her in the front parlor, in the middle of the floor? You’ve always been such an elegant fellow. Just what I hoped for my sister.”
August had made a mistake when he ruined Minette, and made a whole world of mistakes since then, but he was getting damned tired of Warren’s contempt. “When are you going to forgive me?” he asked, throwing out his hands. “Five years? Ten years?”
“My wife is waiting in the carriage.” Warren moved toward the door. August followed, disregarding the butler who stood holding Warren’s gloves and hat.
“Will you never forgive me? It would be helpful to know. Talk to me, Warren. Out of respect for our friendship, talk to me.”
“You want to know when I’ll forgive you?” Warren said, turning on him. “I’ll forgive you when I forget the look on my sister’s face as you foisted her off onto me and my wife. ‘Oh, it’s Josephine’s first baby. I think you ought to go.’”
His unflattering mimicry made August’s fingers curl into fists. “You’re the one who encouraged her to go,” August reminded him.
“After you begged me to do so. Let’s not rewrite the bloody farce.”
This was the frosted glass persona August had wished to possess, the persona Minette had stubbornly thawed last night. Warren had mastered it, and was freezing him to the bone. The man took his gloves from the butler and pulled them on with irritable haste. “I’m leaving my sister with you because she would want it. I’m traveling two days’ journey away, to be with my wife and await the arrival of our child. But if I hear the barest whisper of suspicion that you are mistreating her, from Arlington or anyone else—”
“Arlington won’t spy on me for you,” August interjected.
“He already has been, you idiot. And if he reports that she’s not chirpy as a goddamned summer lark, I’ll bring her to Warren Manor and you’ll never get her back. You’ll never see her or speak to her again. If you’re careless with her heart, if you extinguish in the slightest her brightness and joie de vivre, I’ll make it my life’s work to destroy you. Are we perfectly clear?”
His friend was quivering with barely restrained fury. August could feel it, if he couldn’t understand it. Hadn’t Warren noted Minette slumbering peacefully in his arms?
“We have come to terms, your sister and I,” said August, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
Warren snorted. “‘Come to terms’? Is that supposed to paint a picture of marital bliss? Because it doesn’t, really.”
“We’re figuring things out,” August insisted. “It’s taken time, but we’re finding our way. I love Minette and I’d never cause her hurt.”
“You’ve done it plenty of times before.”
“I’m changed. She’s changed me because she...she knows me and accepts me for who I am. She’s patient and understanding, unlike her brother,” he added in a reproachful tone.
“It’s true, my patience and understanding are at an end,” Warren said. “I’d advise you to remember that, Barrymore.”
With those cool and cutting words, he accepted his hat from the butler and stalked out the door.
Chapter Sixteen: My Naughty Minette
Barrymore House’s courtyard was astir with grooms, horses, and servants on the blustery, late winter morning. Minette wished she could think of some way to calm August’s mother. The nervous woman hovered over the last of the bags, picking up one and setting it by another.
“Mother,” said August. “Let the groom handle it.”
“I don’t want to forget anything,” she fussed, trying to stay busy although there was nothing left to do.
“Everything is in the luggage coach. And if you’ve forgotten anything, simply send a note and we’ll convey it at once. Royston Hall isn’t so far.”
Two months after her husband’s death, the dowager was finally on her way to stay with Catherine, August’s oldest sister, in Hampshire. The lady’s health and energy had blossomed in the past weeks, and she’d become less waspish as a result. Like August, she seemed to be healing from Lord Barrymore’s legacy of roughness and abuse, and in fact was looking forward to spending time with her grandchildren. But first, there was this emotional goodbye, this departure from the house where she’d endured so much grief.
“It’s going to be fine, Mother,” August said, embracing her. “I wish you wouldn’t worry. Minette and I will take care of everything here, and at Barrymore Park.”
“You have always taken care of everything, my son, and I bless you for it.” Minette heard tears in her mother-in-law’s voice. The lady pulled away from August, took out a clumsily embroidered handkerchief—Minette’s handiwork—and pressed it daintily to the corner of one eye. “I won’t cry, or become maudlin.”
“No, you won’t,” said August with a smile. “You are off on a splendid adventure.”
“And you, my dear.” She turned to Minette. “Take good care of my son. As you always have.” She gave her a warm hug and released her. “Take care of yourself as well.” She lowered her voice to a whisper quite loud enough for August to overhear. “I would like more little ones, you know. One can never have enough.”