“No, no, yours is not the right kind of happy, my lord, and as a Nightingale man, you know it’s only temporary. Also, we’ve all seen you laugh immoderately, exercise wit without sufficient restraint. You’ve even gone so far as to make people smile and laugh with your jests. It isn’t proper for a Nightingale man to be so at ease with other people and with himself. A Nightingale man has more unplumbed depths, more richness of soul; a Nightingale man ponders profoundly the pitfalls of life and how best to avoid them. A Nightingale man lives more years than allotted to other less thoughtful, less discerning men. Well, at least some of them do.”
Caroline stared at him. North could but shake his head. He said now, “Coombe, I can no longer trust you. You have lied to me, you have betrayed me. You are retired from service to the Nightingales as of today. There will be a sizable pension so that you may buy a cottage and remain in the area or, if you wish, you can travel elsewhere. I suppose you provided sterling service to my father and that this is what he would do. I’m sorry, Coombe, that it had to come to this. I truly am. I had hoped you would realize that your attitudes were not only outmoded, but just plain wrong.”
“Your father wouldn’t dream of doing this to me, your grandfather either. Both of them would have believed me had I told them she would be the cause of your downfall. Neither of them would ever have trusted a female more than they trusted me or any other man in their service. Both your grandfather and your father were saints, pious thoughtful men, they—”
“Both were bloody mean-spirited bastards,” North said, and slammed his fist down on his desk. “Now, this is quite enough. I don’t think I could tolerate you accusing me of making them spin in their graves.”
“There’s also your great-grandfather, doubtless a discerning, intelligent man, who—” North took a step toward him, so furious that Coombe finally realized he would soon be dead if he didn’t shut his mouth. He managed to do just that, but he looked like he wanted to shout down the draperies. He looked pale and drawn and Caroline felt a stab of pity for him until he looked at her and she saw such fury writ on his face that she took a step back.
North said, once Coombe had left the library, “Forgive me, Caroline. Had I simply acted immediately when he lowered the monster’s head to scare you out of your wits on our wedding night, then this wouldn’t have happened. I didn’t know it was him, but I had a one-in-three chance of getting it right. Yes, I should have guessed, because he’s the youngest of the three and thus the most agile. That roof is steep over your chamber. Too bad he didn’t fall and bash in his damned head.”
“I’m sorry too, North. I do wish it hadn’t ended like this. I didn’t want discord. I’d truly hoped they’d come to grips with things.”
“I too,” he said.
She walked to him, clasped her arms around his back, and kissed his chin. “I’m sorry about Coombe, but I’m frankly relieved that he won’t be here to cause more mischief. You are an amazing man, North. You’re compassionate, kind, funny, and the best lover in the whole of Britain.”
“I must brood sometime, Caroline, surely it’s in my black blood, else I might go mad and not ever slaver all over you again.”
“Can I brood with you?” Her hand stroked down his chest to his belly. She felt him tremble and kissed his mouth. He lurched, pulling her hard against him. “The damned door,” he said against her mouth. In a moment, he’d locked the door, then turned to look at her. “I want your legs around my waist, Caroline. I was thinking of that, picturing you with your back arched against my hands, your hair free and loose down your back. Yes, it’s what I want.”
She gave him the most radiant smile a man could dream about, and said, “All right, but I’m not quite certain how this will work.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
“You usually do unless you let me tie your wrists to the headboard and I got to do that only once.”
His breathing hitched. “Now, Caroline.”
He lifted her onto the desk, and his hands were beneath her skirt, going upward to the top of her stockings to stroke the skin of her inner thighs. “Oh goodness, that’s quite nice,” she said, then nipped his earlobe. When his fingers touched her she nearly fell off the desk.
“Easy,” he said, freed himself, and lifted her onto him. He slid upward into her, felt her tight around him, felt her muscles clenching, and it was the finest feeling he could remember having in his life. He lifted her and she laughed, startled and excited, as he raised her legs to close around his waist.
“This is what I was thinking about,” he said against her throat as he whirled her around, going even deeper inside her. “This is exactly what I wanted.” She arched her back, pressing closer, and North thought he would go over the edge. “Hold still and that’s an order.”
She held perfectly still. “Is this all right, North?”
“No, but it will have to suffice. Jesus, Caroline, I couldn’t have imagined anything like this and I did try to.”
“This is very strange, North. You’re walking around with me and you’re inside me and it’s very nice and—”
“Caroline, please keep still, at least about what we’re doing. It drives me just as wild as you moving about.”
“Then what can I do?”
He closed his eyes as he slowly withdrew, then pushed back into her, deep, very deep, and she moaned, her back arching again. “Just be you and it’s too much,” he said, and began to kiss her wildly. He laid her back on top of his desk, her legs dangling over. “No, this isn’t the way I want it to be,” he said, then shoved her legs up, bending her knees. “Yes, that’s it.” Then he very slowly withdrew from her, lifted his hands beneath her hips and brought her to his mouth.
There was a knock on the door. “Is anything wrong, my lady?” It was Mrs. Mayhew, and she didn’t sound at all concerned.
Caroline’s eyes were nearly crossed. She could scarcely draw a breath. She stared up at her husband, smiled at him, and said, “I am ready to expire now, North, quite ready.”
“Oh no.” He kissed the tip of her nose, rested his palm on her belly, and called out, “Mrs. Mayhew, everything is all right. Her ladyship merely slipped on the carpet. I’m seeing to her. Go away.”
There was a long pause, then, if North wasn’t mistaken, a very discreet giggle. Miss Mary Patricia? Oh no, surely not Miss Mary Patricia, not their resident pregnant governess.
He turned back to look down at his wife. Her eyes were closed, her lips roughened by his mouth, and parted. He saw the tip of her tongue. She looked utterly abandoned, her skirts tossed up about her waist, her legs bent, her hair free of its pins and tangled about her head. He said nothing, merely touched a finger to her soft flesh. She quivered.
“Shall we finish, Caroline?”