“You know I do.”
“I’ve spent four days on the road. Perhaps a dip in a hot tub is advisable first.”
Her hand came to rest on his chest. “I don’t care about that.” She pressed her lips to his again, this time the kiss was slow, heart-stoppingly sensual. Lillian spoke to his soul in a way no other woman ever had.
Fabian took her hand. “I have a better idea. One which will appease both of us.” Without warning he scooped her up into his arms, relishing in her playful shrieks, in the closeness of her body as she threw her arms around his neck.
After a tiring few days, he wasn’t sure how he found the strength to carry her up the stairs to their bedchamber. He barged the door open with his shoulder, trying not to drop her when she nuzzled his neck. With the heel of his booted foot, he kicked the door closed and delivered his wife to the comfort of the bed.
Lillian flopped back on top of the coverlet, her arms stretched above her head in wanton abandon. The loose-fitting shirt gave no indication as to the soft round breasts beneath. Still, he could imagine her nipples hardening under the heat of his gaze.
“Is there water in the bowl?” He resisted the urge to pull her shabby boots off, to tug down the breeches and settle between bare thighs.
She glanced at the washstand. “Yes, it’s relatively clean if not a little cold.”
“Good.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Find a linen cloth while I strip.”
“And I suppose you want me to wash you as well,” she teased.
Fabian raised a brow. “What, don’t you want to rub your hands over my naked body?”
A blush touched her cheeks. She took a moment to reply. “When you put it like that perhaps I can be persuaded.”
While she found a cloth and swished it about in the water, he undid his waistcoat and threw it onto the chair. His boots followed, and he unbuttoned his breeches and left them hanging on his hips.
Lillian wrung the water from the cloth and came to stand before him. “I’m surprised to see you wearing a cravat. I thought you’d wear less formal attire while on the road.”
“I draw enough attention when seen in London,” he said, unravelling the length of silk. “A lord without an elegant cravat is like a king without a crown.”
“So you were in London?”
Although they were not clawing at each other in a rampant frenzy, the air thrummed with sexual tension. “I went to confront Lord Cornell and to bring you some clothes.” He drew his shirt over his head and added it to the pile of discarded garments. To distract her would lessen the blow when he told her the news.
“Lord Cornell?” Lillian’s heated gaze drifted over his chest. “What did you say to him?”
Fabian s
ucked in a breath as she drew the cold cloth across his shoulder and down his arm, rubbing the linen over his bicep. “It wasn’t what I said but more what I did.”
Lillian’s hand stilled. “Please tell me you didn’t meet him on the common at dawn.”
“I only duel with gentlemen. I consider Cornell to be vermin.”
Lillian continued to wipe his chest and abdomen with the linen square, each time moving closer to the band of his breeches. “So what did you do?”
“We kidnapped him as he left his club, stripped him naked and chained him to railings in Portman Square.” Fabian had come close to driving a blade through the cold bastard’s heart.
“Good Lord!” Her eyes widened. “Can you not hang for committing such a crime?”
He bent his head and kissed the frown from her brow. “There were no witnesses. The man was terrified out of his wits. I returned at dawn and released him on the proviso he refrain from all attempts to persecute you or your brother.”
“And you can trust his word?”
“He knows I will kill him if he hurts you again. I intend to send him a raven feather once a week as a stark reminder.” He smiled. “I think you need to rinse the cloth and begin again.”
“I told you, I don’t care about a bit of dust.” Her breath came quickly. “A man should smell of the road and leather, not fancy soap and perfume.”
Fabian pushed his breeches off his hips. His hard cock sprang free. “Perhaps you could attend to one more task before you discard the linen.”