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Chapter Fifteen

September 23, 1818

John glanced across the drawing room at his wife with what felt like a foolish grin as she played a gentle sonnet from Beethoven at the pianoforte. Two days ago, they’d finally consummated their marriage, and beyond that, Caroline had opened up to him about some of the things from her past. He couldn’t be any prouder of her. Yes, they still had miles to go—both of them—but this had been a good start.

In the intervening days, they’d walked the Hadleigh Hall property. She’d painted while he fished. Brand usually joined them for breakfast and dinner but let them have the rest of the time alone, especially after John had casually mentioned—in the briefest of terms—what had happened. And since they’d been left to their own devices, yesterday afternoon, they’d made use of the relative privacy in the heart of the Hadleigh maze by coupling in the soft, shady grass there.

And it had been no less wonderful than the first time.

Caroline had an affinity for such things, she was a quick learner, and she was enthusiastically interested in exploring his body as much as he was hers. With every subsequent coupling, they continued to find a rhythm that worked for them, and each time his wife cried tears of wonder when she fell over the edge into bliss. He found it adorable, and what was more, he’d lost pieces of his heart to her. They’d bonded deeply over the past two days as if their souls had connected, stuck together, and he was continually amazed at the boon he’d been given. She was such a warm person, full of life and love and verve—magic perhaps—that she’d only needed the chance to shine and fly; to have someone believe in her and her different way of learning.

I did that for her.

It humbled the hell out of him, as did the fact he’d been entrusted with growing old beside such a remarkable woman. And that only drove home the fact he needed to sort out his affairs. She deserved a life they could both be proud of, and that meant going home to Ipswich, and soon.

“Why do you stare at me so?” she asked without a pause in what her fingers were doing upon the keyboard.

Damn, but she was amazing. “Can’t a man look at his wife and feel so fortunate that he might burst?”

A smile curved her highly kissable lips. “Yes?” The afternoon sunlight streaming into the room highlighted subtle caramel-colored strands in her dark hair, and in the dress of robin’s egg blue, she was simply stunning. Her stormy eyes twinkled, healthy color bloomed in her cheeks; never had she seemed more alive or ready to take on the world.

“Good.” The urge to pluck her off that padded bench and kiss her senseless took hold. Perhaps that would lead to other delicious offerings. What would she do when he introduced her to intercourse against a wall? She would no doubt giggle and laugh, look at him in that special way she had that turned his blood to fire, and they’d pass the remainder of the afternoon twisted in his sheets.

Let the servants talk about that!

But before he could act upon the urge, Brand strode into the room. Determination lined his face, as did a certain longing John knew all too well.

“Good afternoon, Captain. What is on your mind?” John asked, but he knew. “You look like a man who has made a decision.”

“That’s because I have.” He crossed the room to Caroline’s location, bussed her cheek, and then joined John, dropping heavily into a chair. He and his cousin had made great inroads into forming a tentative friendship. So much so that it tugged at John’s heart. “I miss Elizabeth and babe too much to linger in Derbyshire any longer.”

Knots formed in John’s belly. “I figured as much.” He rested an ankle on a knee, but the negligent, relaxed pose was far from the truth. “You’re going back to Ipswich.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.”

“When?” John shot a glance at Caroline. She’d stopped playing the pianoforte in order to watch both of them.

Brand shrugged. “As soon as I can.” He rubbed a hand along the side of his face. “While it’s been idyllic meandering about the old familial property as well as spending time with you and Cousin Caroline, I wish to resume being within the folds of my little family. As well as take up the reins of the shipping outfit again.” He met John’s gaze. “Do you wish to go with me?”

Did he? More than anything, but in his heart, he acknowledged that such a decision didn’t include only him any longer. When he glanced at his wife, her gaze was on him. A hopeful expression crossed her face, and his pulse accelerated. “I do, of course, but I shall need to discuss it with Caroline. I hadn’t anticipated leaving Derbyshire this soon.”

“Understandable.” Brand grinned. He waggled his eyebrows. “You’re rather enjoying your honeymoon.”

Heat crept up the back of John’s neck, but he couldn’t deny it. “I am.” Then Caroline was there. She settled onto the low sofa next to him and immediately, the scent of daises and violets assailed him. The warmth of her called out to him, urging him to touch her. “This time with my wife has been… both surprising and fulfilling.”

And he wished to keep the bubble surrounding them intact for as long as he could before reality intruded.

She laid a hand on his arm. Need ricocheted down his spine to lodge in his stones. “We should go.” In the event he didn’t understand, she nodded. “Show me the sea and squirreling.”

Both he and Brand chuckled.

A faint blush stained her cheeks. “Sailing.” She squeezed her fingers upon his arm. “You miss the sea.” The statement didn’t require inquiry.

“I do.” He wouldn’t make any secrets about it. “Every day it calls to me.” But recently, that call twisted with the desire to be wherever Caroline was, to seek her out for no other reason than to be near, attempt to draw her out further from her shell to discover the other facets of the woman she was finding. “And it’s beautiful, much more so than the countryside here.”

She smiled up into his face. “I want to go. To make you happy. You and Cousin Brand will trunks my pack?”

“Aye.” He exchanged an amused glance with his friend. “You don’t enjoy packing?”


Tags: Sandra Sookoo The Storme Brothers Historical