Chapter 9
In his entire life, nothing had been as wonderful as waking up with Dorothea in his arms. She slept soundly and the steady rise and fall of her chest was better than any lullaby. He pulled her in closer and she nestled against him.
The sun peeked through the curtains.
Dory stretched long, her legs brushing his, and her arm pushed up along his face. “Good morning.”
He caressed her silken skin from just under her breast to the curve of her hip. Mine. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mm. Too well. Usually, I wake several times and must play to relax enough to find rest again.” She snuggled back against him.
“I glad you slept, but I have to admit I would have loved to hear you play in the middle of the night.”
“Shall I play for you now?”
There was something off about her tone. He kissed her shoulder. “Dory, you should always play for yourself. I may reap the benefits, but I would hate to think of you playing simply to entertain.”
She rolled to face him. Her hair was a mass of waves, which had come loose of their braid. Those stunning green eyes of hers were wide. “Why would you say such a thing? Everyone wants me to play for them.”
He longed to pull her plump bottom lip between his and then kiss every square inch of her luscious body, but he forced it aside because he longed more for her to be happy. He took a deep breath and pushed several stray strands of hair out of her eyes. “The times I have enjoyed you play the most have been when you did not know anyone was listening. You are free with your emotion and it shows in the music. I hope someday you will play thusly when an audience is present.”
With unfocused eyes, she stared at someplace on his face below his eyes. She brought her gaze up to meet his. “Elinor has told me something similar.”
“I am in good company then.”
“Indeed.”
Perhaps it was time to change the subject and lighten the mood.
“What would you like to do today? Shall we get up and find something to break our fast, walk in the garden, or would you prefer to stay in bed all day?” He lifted his eyebrows several times.
Her stomach grumbled and she giggled.
He peeked under the sheet toward her complaining belly. He meant to be silly, but her breasts were delectable as was the rest of her naked form. A growl rumbled up from his chest. “I know you are hungry and as a good husband I should whisk you down for whatever the cook has prepared, but I cannot look at your stunning body and be unaffected.”
Slipping her hand under the covers, she ran her fingers along his ribs.
Her touch sent his blood rushing to his shaft. Another growl followed.
Continuing her path down his body, she tickled her way to his growing erection. “Perhaps your wife is hungry for more than just food.”
“That would make me quite happy.”
She gripped him and worked her hand up and down.
When he could take no more of her gentle ministrations, he pulled her hand away and rolled on his back, taking her with him. His rod perched at the entrance to heaven.
Wide-eyed, she stared down at him. “This is…unexpected.”
“There are a great many ways we can make love together, Dory. I hope you will find pleasure in many of them and always tell me what you like and most certainly what you do not.” Hands on her hips he edged her up until the tip of him entered her. The rest, he left up to her.
She pressed her hands against his chest, closed her eyes, and slid down until he was deep inside her. Her mouth opened on a cry and she lifted her hips and settled again.
Wanting her to find power in their lovemaking and being able to resist the need for a faster pace warred within him. He grasped her hips and quickened the pace.
She leaned forward and a sharp cry filled the room.
His body tightened like a bow pulled back to fire. Slipping his hand between them, he found her bud and rubbed the wet folds.
Her orgasm flowed around him pulling at his own until he erupted.
Gasping, she collapsed on his chest. “My word, Tom. That was wonderful.”
Joy that would last a lifetime bubbled inside him. “Yes, it was.”
Her stomach growled.
He ran his hand from the rise of her buttocks along her spine and up the supple curves of her shoulder blades. Every inch of her was exquisite and unmarred. His body was as tarnished as the stars in the sky yet she didn’t seem bothered by his imperfections. “Shall I ring for our breakfast or would you like to go downstairs?”
She propped her head on her hands where they rested on his chest. “That was not what you were thinking.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You were very far away, and then you asked about my desires.”
“You are very astute.” He should hide his feelings better. Practiced enough at the game, he could keep the darkness away from his innocent bride. Yet, something rang true in her seeing through his disguise.
“Will you tell me where you went? What were you thinking about?” Dory watched him, her face a mask of concern and curiosity.
He kissed her nose. “I wondered what you thought when you look at my scarred and beaten body.”
Cocking her head, she smiled. “Mind you, I have no other male forms to compare yours to, but you look very nice to me.”
“You are being kind.” His chest burned with years of regret for service he had always accepted.
“No.” She touched a puckered scar on his shoulder. “Each one of these wounds shaped you and made you the man you are, Thomas Wheel. It occurs to me that I am an extremely lucky woman to have married you.”
“What makes you think so?”
There was just the hint of a smile in her eyes. “What do you want most out of our marriage?”
“To make you happy.” The response was immediate.
“There, you see? How could any woman want more than that? I will never be able to thank you enough for marrying me.” She pressed her forehead to his chest and the first cool tear dripped on him.
Keeping one hand around her back, he threaded his other through her hair and forced her to look at him. “You must never thank me for that, Dorothea. I am yours as much as you are mine and believe me when I tell you I have bartered a far better deal than you have. All of England will think I stole myself a treasure and they will be right, even if they are wrong about where your value lies.”
“I do not care what anyone thinks. You saved me from a horrible life with a troll of a man. How am I not to be grateful?”
“Because I would not have married you if I did not want you for my own reasons. If I did not care for you, I would have left you to your fate.”
She dashed away her tears. “It is a good thing you love music and I can play. At least for my sake.”
Sighing, he closed his eyes. “One day you will know your own value, sweetheart.”
Her stomach growled so loud he felt the rumble against his own belly. Her eyes widened and her cheeks pinked.
God, she was stunning.
With a laugh, he rolled her to the bed. “I’d better get you fed or you will wither away. Shall I ring for food?”
“Let’s go down, if you don’t mind.”
He sat up with a touch of regret because he wouldn’t be able to keep her to himself. “As you wish.”
* * * *
The midday sun helped to warm the garden. It was more chaotic than an English garden. Paths wound through the wilderness with no obvious sense. Yet in its madness, there was order and Thomas admired the juxtaposition.
Dory’s shawl slipped from her shoulder.
He caught the silk and replaced it before taking her hand.
“Thank you.”
Children’s laughter tinkled in the distance and they walked on toward the sound. They reached a small grassy clearing and found the source.
Jimmie and Sarah played with two other children. They kicked a ball around the grass while the nanny watched and held John in her arms.
“Be mindful of Sarah, Jimmie. She’s just a wee one.” The nanny called to the oldest Kerburghe child.
Jimmie peered through a wave of chestnut hair and gave her a nod.
Dory dropped his hand and crossed the grass to the nanny and John. “May I hold him?”
“Of course, madam.” She passed the bundle of arms and legs over.
Dory sat and took John in her arms. She pressed her lips to his head and closed her eyes as if breathing him in. “There is nothing like the scent of a baby.”
“Yer right about that, madam.” The nanny grinned.
“What is your name?”
“Gertie.”
Thomas strolled over keeping an eye on the boisterous play and Dory at the same time. “You look quite natural with that baby in your arms.”
Her eyes lit with delight. “Do you think so?”
“I do.” His heart clenched longing to fill his house with babies for her to hug. He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful. Everything about Dorothea lured him in and held him captive. If they had not been in the company of the children and Gertie, he would have taken her right there in the soft grass. Would she like adventure in their lovemaking or was their bedroom the only place she would allow him liberties? Not that it was something to complain about, but he longed to make love to her in every room in all of his houses.
“Oh aye, madam. You look stunning holding a bairn. You’ll be a fine mother to your own babes in no time.” Gertie smiled but kept her gaze on the four children tumbling across the grass.
So caught up in his fantasy of Dory giving him children, he was late noticing her bright red cheeks.
She cooed to John.
If he watched her much longer, he would embarrass himself. He turned to the play. The ball forgotten, all four were going head over heels like little balls of cloth and flesh. “What’s the game?” Thomas called across to the children.
Jimmie stood at the far edge of the clearing. A lanky, sturdy fellow, he had eyes much older than his years. “Tumbling and I win.”
The other three groaned and ran to stand near Jimmie.
“It’s a race then?”
Jimmie cocked his head. “You want to play with us, sir?”
“I have tumbled a time or two in my life. There’s no need to look skeptical.”
With a shrug of his thin shoulders, Jimmie arranged everyone in a line at one end of the field.
Thomas removed his jacket and cravat and tossed them to the grass before lining up next to the children.
“Too big.” Sarah pointed, her lips in a puffy frown.
“Maybe so.” Thomas crouched next to her. A quick glance at Dory confirmed her rapt attention.
“Go!”
All four children tumble-salted in drunken lines toward the finish.
Thomas put his head to the ground and pushed off. He came down on his back with a thwack but rolled to his feet.
Feminine laughter trilled toward him.
By the time he reached the opposite end, Jimmie celebrated his victory and Dorothea was gasping for breath. She laughed so hard she held her stomach with one hand and Gertie reached for the baby bouncing in her arms.
Getting up, he brushed off his clothes.
Sarah stared up at him. “See. Too big.”
He scooped her into his arms and tickled her tummy. “You think I am too big?”
Wiggling and giggling, Sarah hugged him around the neck. Sunshine and grass mixed and wafted from her, as he’d expect. For the first time in his life, he longed for children of his own.
Gertie called for them to come do their lessons.
Thomas knelt in the grass and placed Sarah on her sturdy little legs. “Learn all there is, little one. I see big things for you.”
Her eyes matched the sky but ringed with dark lashes. Chestnut curls stood out in every direction. She patted his cheek and followed it with a wet kiss on the other before toddling toward the nanny.
Thomas’s heart clenched. What had Jimmie and Sarah endured before they found a home at Kerburghe? They had lost their parents in a fire, a test of courage for anyone, let alone two children. Dory walked toward him, so he stood.
She bit her bottom lip ready to burst out laughing. “You shall need to practice if you are to compete with that bunch.”
Gertie bustled the four children toward the castle door.
Grabbing Dory around the waist, he jerked her tight to his body. “Are you saying I am not a good tumbler? As my wife, you’re supposed to root for me.”
A joyful bubble of laughter escaped her luscious lips. “I have failed miserably then. I was hoping Sarah would make a run for the win.”
He leaned in. “I had the same hope myself.”
Laughing together sparked the most dangerous thing inside Thomas. Hope. He married her because he wanted her and couldn’t bear to see Hartly touch her. His own feelings had grown with such speed, his head spun. Dare he dream she could ever love him? Warnings rang in his head. He released her. “Shall we collect my clothes and resume our walk?”
An instant of confusion passed over her face before she steeled her expression. “Of course.”
* * * *
The curve of the lap harp in his arms was not as unnatural as he’d expected. Sensuous in a way a pianoforte could never be, he liked the feel of it as he practiced the motions Dory had shown him. Unlike the other instruments he’d played, the harp vibrated harmonically from the first stroke. It was not music, but the sound pleased the ear even from his unskilled hands.
“You are doing well.” Dory entered from the dressing room. Her chemise and wrap left little hidden.
His body bolted to attention. “I have a good teacher.”
“Try the chords I showed you.”
He obeyed, producing the chords one by one as she’d shown him the night before. “Do you think you might like to teach music?”
Grabbing the edges of her wrap, she turned toward him. “You mean besides teaching you the harp?”
“You are a very good teacher.” He demonstrated several chords together and produced a lovely phrase.
“Are we in need of additional income, Tom?”
He put the harp aside, stood and took her hands. “No. Our financial situation is good. I thought you might enjoy teaching.”
“I have never considered the notion. Ladies do not take on a profession, they do not play all day without regard to their duties, and they do not compose concertos when their households require attention.”
“Your mother, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“May I make a suggestion?”
She nodded.
“I propose we have a different kind of life together. I know there are rules that society expects and as part of that society we are obligated to comply, but I am happier when I ignore those mandates.”
Hands flat against his chest, she pushed away. “I am not sure what you mean.”
Keeping his hands on her hips, he didn’t let her go far. “I mean that if you wish to teach music, you should do so. If you take a notion to apply to the Royal Academy, you will have my full support. If I gave a damn about what society thinks, we would not be here in Scotland as husband and wife, sweetheart.”
“May I be honest?” She gazed at his chest, his nose and over his shoulder, but not in his eyes.
“Always.”
“I have never considered the possibilities beyond playing and writing at home. Of course, occasionally I wonder what if I was a man.”
“And, what if you had been born a man? Though I shudder at the idea.”
Her cheeks pinked as he’d hoped. “I would be playing for kings and queens.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Not really, but do you not think it interesting as a woman I am locked out of certain avenues and as a man I would be locked in to the very same? I doubt that would have made me happy either. I believe I would hate to be commanded to play at the whim of a sovereign.”
“A very astute observation. You have an uncanny ability to place yourself in another’s shoes, Dory. Most people do not share the ability or the desire.”
“Elinor’s influence, I imagine. She has always been empathetic and I have always been self-absorbed. I will give your idea some thought, Tom. I enjoy teaching you. Perhaps there is a less selfish path for me and the music.”
He kissed her cheek just under her left eye. “What you can do is a gift and no more selfish than the nightingale’s song. Your mother has done you a disservice by attaching guilt to the thing that has made you different and special. Perhaps she did so out of an effort to protect you, or maybe she is jealous of your talents. Either way, you are a grown woman and must overcome those backward ideals.”
Wide-eyed she stared back at him. He’d expected her to defend her mother, but she didn’t agree or disagree. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I think I am a lucky woman to have married you.”
His shaft tightened to full alert. He lifted her into his arm and carried her to the bed.