"Just a little harder, Emily. Pull just a little more. You are very wet now, very tight. Very ready. You are almost there. Just a little harder on the cravat, I think. Yes, that's it."
Emily gasped as she felt Simon's hard shaft probing at the entrance of her body. Clinging tightly to the ends of the cravat, she looked up through her lashes and saw him looming over her.
"Simon."
"Don't let go of the silk, Emily." He pushed into her very slowly. "You are very tight, elf. But this time there is no pain, is there?"
"No. No, oh, Simon, I do not think I can stand this," she gasped. Her fingers were crushing the white silk.
"No?" He started to ease himself back out of her.
"Simon, do not leave me." She was panicked at the thought that he was going to pull away just as she was hovering on the brink of this wondrous, transcendent experience.
"I have no intention of leaving you, elf. And you will never leave me, will you?" Simon eased himself slowly back into her.
"No, never. I would never leave you, Simon. Oh. Bloody hell"
"Tighter on the cravat, Emily. Just a little bit tighter."
He was deep inside, stretching her, becoming a part of her. Emily could not stand it anymore. Her whole body convulsed.
"Simon."
There was a distant ripping sound as the silk cravat tore in half. Emily's arms were suddenly free. She flung them around Simon, clinging to him as the incredible shivers of release raced through her from head to toe.
She heard Simon's hoarse, exultant shout of satisfaction and felt him pumping himself violently into her. Mindlessly Emily clutched at him as the waves of passion took them both under the surface of the warm sea.
A long while later, Emily felt Simon stir in her arms. She opened her eyes lazily, feeling much too languid to move.
"It would appear I am in the market for a new cravat," Simon observed as he rolled onto his side. He grinned as he picked up the severed strips of white silk that had once been an extremely stylish item of neckwear. He dangled the ends over Emily's nose. "You do not know your own strength, madam."
"Apparently not." She laughed and blew on one of the bits of white silk. It fluttered in the air. "Was it one of your favorite cravats, by any chance?"
"Definitely. I am quite shattered at the loss."
Emily giggled. She stretched, sat up, and folded her arms on his chest. She rested her chin on her arms. "I shall try to compensate you for it."
"It will take a great deal of effort on your part." Simon's teeth gleamed in a wicked smile.
"Do you know something, Simon? I think you would have made a very good pasha. There is something quite barbaric about you at times."
"I'm not at all barbaric." Simon wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her close for a kiss. "In fact, in some ways, I am quite civilized. Even a bit dull."
"Never."
"You think not? Well, let me tell you this, my passionate wife. Just once, I would dearly like to make love to you in a bed rather than on the floor of the library. How is that for being staid and dull?"
"A bed?" Emily frowned. "How very normal and unimaginative that sounds. I stand corrected. You may be a bit dull, after all, my lord. What a surprise. You certainly had me fooled."
"Vixen." He pushed her back down into the depths of the gold satin and kissed her soundly.
The kiss was intended as playful punishment, but it was quickly transformed into something much more potent. Emily gave herself up to it with joyous abandon before Simon finally broke it off to gaze down at her with eyes that were no longer amused. Instead, they were strangely watchful.
"Well, Emily? Was that more what you expected from lovemaking?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, yes, Simon. I truly felt cast adrift upon love's transcendent, golden shore that time." She smiled shyly, knowing her heart was probably reflected in her eyes. "It was wonderful—truly a metaphysical experience. Extraordinarily stimulating to the sensibilities. I cannot wait to do it again."
Simon groaned and then fell back, laughing. "I ought to have known a woman of excessive passions such as yourself would be utterly insatiable." He sat up and got to his feet, reaching for his shirt. "Come, wife. We are going to go upstairs and behave like a civilized married couple for once."
"What an excellent idea, my lord." Emily reached for her spectacles and adjusted them on her nose. "Just think. You have an entire drawer full of cravats upstairs in your bedchamber."
"Very true." Simon looked at his wife, who was wearing nothing except her spectacles, and grinned again. "Madam, I promise you that you will be positively amazed at the versatility of a well-made cravat."
It was nearly dawn but Simon was far from sleep. Emily's slender, warm body was snuggled closely against him and he could smell the scent of her mingled with the odors of their recent lovemaking. A length of white silk still dangled from her fingers, which lay across his chest.
He had handled matters much better this time around, Simon decided. He had held to his vow to make Emily come to him. She had done so, surrendering very sweetly, with a womanly grace that had charmed him. Even more important, he had been in control right up until the moment he allowed himself to take his own satisfaction.
His relationship with his new bride was now much more as it should be, Simon concluded, trying to be coolheaded and objective about the situation. Emily had learned that he could give her pleasure when he made love to her and she had also learned that he was quite capable of an unshakable self-control.
She had been obliged to acknowledge that his was the stronger will in this union. He had bided his time and it had been worth it. By waiting until she succumbed to her own inevitable curiosity and budding sense of passion, he had made his point. He would be in charge from now on and Emily would know that.
It was necessary for a wife to respect her husband's strength of will. Especially when that wife was an ex-Faringdon.
"Simon?" Emily's voice was languid.
"I thought you were asleep, elf."
"I was. But I just remembered something I meant to tell you earlier. I had a conversation with Lady Northcote this evening." Emily yawned.
Simon was instantly alert. "Did you, indeed? And what did you discuss?"
"Well, I was thanking her for inviting me to her ball and she assured me she could have done nothing less because of my having saved Celeste from Nevil. She also seemed to think she owed me the kindness because of something that had happened in the past between Northcote's father and yours."
"Is that what she said?"
"It was all very vague, but I naturally assured her that she was not to worry about it any longer."
Simon went still. "What, precisely, did you tell her, Emily?"
"Just that whatever obligation might have existed in the past had been more than amply repaid by her kindness in launching me into Society. She has been so nice to me, Simon. I could not bear to have her think she owed me anything. And I certainly do not want her friendship based on a feeling of obligation."
"So you told her the debt had been paid in full?"
"Yes. Precisely. And she was very relieved, I must say."
"Bloody hell," Simon muttered. "I'll wager she was. And that is nothing compared to how Northcote no doubt feels."
"Well, I certainly hope so. Such a nice couple."
So much for being in charge of the situation.
Ah, well, Simon consoled himself. Northcote had been the least of the four. It was Northcote's father, after all, not the present marquess, who had ignored the letter Simon had written twenty-three years ago.