“You know that is not one of my virtues,” she gasped.
He chuckled and his hand slid between her thighs, rubbing at the slick folds, and then squeezing the swollen nub. She cried out with shocked ecstasy, almost collapsing completely, but he wasn’t finished with her yet.
As the tingles raced through her body, he was moving again. His hands cupped her breasts through her evening dress, and he said, in a rough, husky voice, “I wish you were naked, Marissa. I wish we were both naked. There are so many things I want to show you.”
Why couldn’t it always be like this? Marissa asked herself. When they were together, their bodies so in tune, she had no doubts.
Pleasure spiraled through her as he reached down to caress between her legs, and this time he joined her at the precipice, and they leaped together.
Valentine was sorry to have to hurry her, but he knew there would be questions asked as it was at the length of time they’d been gone. Quickly he straightened her clothes, casting a careful eye over her and nodding his approval. Then it was time for him to dress himself, buttoning his trousers over his still swollen cock, shrugging on his shirt and jacket and running a hand through his hair.
“How do I look?” he asked her.
She tipped her head to one side and that wonderful dimple appeared. “Perfect,” she said.
“Ah, but will your father think so,” he retorted, as he turned out the lamp and opened the shutters.
“You know he is ecstatic,” she teased. “He is planning to show you his collection, so beware.”
“Oh?” There was an interested gleam in his eyes.
“You want to see his collection,” Marissa groaned. “I should have known.”
“Marissa, you do know you are marrying a man whose life has been spent studying roses? I can’t change what I am.” He searched her face but this time she didn’t look away or try to hide her feelings from him.
“Of course I know. And I love you with all my heart. Haven’t I made that clear?” she said with a wicked glance. “Or should I show you again?”
He caught her hands before she could touch him. “As much as I’d love you to show me again,” he said huskily, “we have to go back. Stop tempting me, minx.”
Marissa watched him unlock the door, and followed him into the garden. The earthy smell and the sound of crickets greeted them.
“I spoke to Baron Von Hautt.” Valentine’s serious tone interrupted her pleasant thoughts. “He was lucid enough, but not particularly cooperative.”
“Did he tell you who the spy at the manor is?” she said, straight to the point as they strolled arm in arm back toward the house.
“Yes. Not that it made finding him, or her, any easier.”
“What do you mean?”
“The name he gave me was Bo-bo,” he said, with a lift of his eyebrows.
Marissa repeated it softly. “How strange. It sounds like a—a pet name.”
“That was what I thought.”
“Someone must know what it means, Valentine.”
“Let’s hope so,” he agreed.
They’d reached the house and their conversation had to be halted. As they made their way back to the drawing room, they came upon Morris, who had come up from Abbey Thorne Manor to take charge of the town house and run it in his inimitable st
yle. He responded to Marissa’s greeting with a bow, while his gaze slid briefly over Valentine’s evening wear and his expression became pained.
“My lord, a note has come for you. I was told it was urgent.”
“Thank you, Morris.” Valentine took the folded piece of paper off the salver and opened it.
“How is everyone at Abbey Thorne Manor, Morris?” Marissa said, with a trace of longing she couldn’t hide.