He pushed inside her so suddenly, she grunted and he smiled. “First slowly, little one, and when you catch me up, then fast and hard, and you’ll squeeze, then relax, then squeeze again.” He continued to watch her, his smile tucked in deepest delight, and his eyes intent on her reactions. Finally, for just a moment, he rammed hard and very fast, then stopped, inhaling deep, and sank down against her, gasping for breath and trembling as though utterly spent. He whispered, “Sweet Emma,” and stayed still inside her, gradually calming his breath and body. Finally he moved away and sat up but brought her up with him so they were facing each other, legs entwined. Immediately he flung both arms around her and cradled her head against his shoulder. “And that,” he told her softly, “is my road to love. Now – little one – will you come to London with me?”
“Of course I will,” she whispered. “I’ll come anywhere with you. And I’ll share your adventures.”
“I’ll arrange some.”
Emeline smiled into his shoulder. She had very little idea what an adventure might be like, but simply living in London sounded adventurous enough. “Would you,” she whispered, “help me dress? Or do you want to sleep?”
“Neither.” He looked her over, his smile widening and his eyes bright again. “I prefer you naked. I like the feel of you. And I’m not tired. A few moments with you curled against me like this, and I shall want you again.”
She ventured, “Don’t you want any supper?”
“I intend having a very satisfying supper, but my food is here, not downstairs.” He grinned suddenly. “But I suppose you’re hungry as usual.”
“Starving.”
He laughed. “Get those crumpled rags off the floor then and I’ll dress you. I’ll take you downstairs, be polite to your Maman, eat something, come back upstairs, and have you instead of damp wafers and subtlety.”
“My father doesn’t let us have subtleties. Sugar is too expensive.”
“Then, my little love, since you are sweeter than sugar, we are in accord for once. Now – grab your gown and I shall try to make you respectable again.”
It was a late supper. Nicholas lounged at the table, ignoring the several platters placed before him. The baroness pointed to the apple codlings.
“My dear sir, my cook steams the best codlings in Gloucestershire, a favourite of Emma’s, but you’ve not eaten a thing. Are you tired, perhaps? Or not yet entirely well?”
“Your daughters’ appetites are proof of your cook’s expertise, my lady,” Nicholas said. “And I am neither tired nor unwell. Simply that I have eaten so well for many days past, it’s a pleasure to rest the appetite for a day.”
“Then I’ll eat the codlings,” Emeline said, looking up at the page standing dutifully behind her shoulder.
Nicholas passed her the codlings. “And I expect to leave within the next few days,” he continued, “and, sadly, may miss your good lord’s return, madam. My affairs in London will not permit too long a delay. Naturally I should be devastated to miss him, but no doubt I shall meet up with him on some other occasion.”
“My husband,” frowned the baroness, “went to London most precisely on your behalf, my lord. Having received no word, Emma was fearful for your health. Her Papa undertook to search for you, and to visit your esteemed father for news of you. I expect him back within a week or two at the most. I believe he would be sorely disappointed if you had already left before his return, sir.”
“Ah.” Nicholas sighed. “The business of manners. Then I shall stay a few days longer, my lady, and at least hope to pass the baron on the road, and to wave, perhaps, in the passing. But I have matters of some urgency, and once Emma is ready to accompany me, we will be gone.” He looked across at his wife, who was sitting beside her mother. “It will not take you too long, I imagine,” he suggested hopefully, “to prepare for the journey?”
“Oh, not long at all,” she said, gulping down the last bite of codlings.
Avice looked from one to the other. “I wish I could come. It would take me less than an hour to be quite ready. In fact, I could leave now.”
“Avice,” warned her mother.
“Well,” Avice declared. “So it would. I have only two decent gowns and two shifts, since someone unmentionable ruined my best one. And I have only one cloak and two pairs of shoes. There’s three pairs of stockings and three ribbon garters, one horrid old bedrobe, and –”
“Avice,” her mother interrupted her again. “That will be quite enough.”
“Under the circumstances,” said Nicholas with a waning interest in his sister-in-law’s scant collection of apparel, “I’m surprised the baron didn’t manage to find me in London, since you say he intended visiting my father. After the first few days of illness when I was obliged to stay elsewhere – I took up residence in the family house on the Strand. A tumbledown old heap my grandfather liked to call the Chatwyn Palace, but a good deal more comfortable than the castle, even before the fire. My father knew exactly where I was, though doubtless he’s contrary enough to deny it to some. However, I hardly believe he’d not divulge my situation to my wife’s father. I left London only four days ago, and rode hard for Gloucestershire. Yet his lordship most certainly didn’t come calling before I left.”
“Your cousin Adrian went to look for you too,” insisted Avice. “You must have seen him?”
“Tragically, no,” said Nicholas with a faint smile. “Have you sent half the countryside searching for me, then?”
“Only Papa and Adrian.”
“How devastated I am to have missed them both,” Nicholas said, smiling widely at his hostess. “Perhaps my father was distracted. He’s about to leave the country, you know, and royal responsibilities invariably make him even more self-important than usual.”
The baroness leaned forwards. “How interesting, my lord. My husband hinted how he was hoping to accompany your good father at some point. Might I ask the nature, and perhaps the destination, of his journey? Unless, of course, they are matters of a confidential nature.”
“They probably are,” Nicholas waved one hand to the heavens. “Indeed, I’m fairly sure they are. But it’s the king’s desperate need for an heir, and some appropriate female to provide one. He wants English peace into the bargain, so he’s dealing with the princesses of both Spain and Portugal. Lancastrian bloodlines, you see, to avoid future jealousies. We English are, after all, a contentious nation. So my father’s off to Spain – which makes me think his highness is more serious about the Portuguese match.”
Emeline blinked. “Your Papa, not that I wish to be in any manner critical, but is he the best person to employ as a diplomat in sensitive situations?”
“Good Lord, no,” laughed Nicholas. “Which is why I imagine our good king is more serious concerning the Portuguese Infanta.”
“And so soon after the queen’s death,” sighed Avice.
“Oh, he has no choice. However much he’s mourning his queen, we the people shall never know. An heir is any king’s first duty,” said Nicholas, absently taking a small piece of bread from the communal platter, but playing rather than eating it. “I believe the Royal Council sent Sir Richard Brampton off to Lisbon some time back.”