Morgan jerked awake at the feel of something hard jabbing in his side. He groaned and opened his eyes, immediately aware of the stiffness pervading his body. Chaise lounges were not meant for sleeping on, that much he knew.

“My wife assures me she gave you and Emma the best guest bedroom.”

Morgan blinked up at Guy and sat with a groan.

“Is there a reason you have opted to sleep in the drawing room instead of next to your charming wife?”

Grimacing, Morgan stood and straightened his crumpled shirt. He’d told Emma he’d been sleeping in another room but not that he was in the drawing room. And he’d hoped to be awake before everyone else, so he could slip into their shared room and make himself presentable before anyone had discovered him stealing some sleep down here. For the past few days, his exhausting plan had worked. He’d slept downstairs and no one had been any the wiser.

“I prefer the chaise.” Morgan pressed a hand to the back of his neck to try to work out one of the many, many knots in it.

Guy lifted a brow. “You prefer a chaise to a comfy bed, wrapped in the arms of a woman?”

Morgan eyed his friend. “Yes.”

Shaking his head, Guy motioned upstairs. “And what does your wife have to say about this?”

“Nothing at all.”

Or at least, she had not said anything yet. He had joined her briefly last night, unable to resist the lure of all that satiny skin as he brushed a goodnight kiss across her lips. Afterwards, he had held her, fighting the desire to remain with her all night before retreating downstairs once she was asleep.

“It’s not proper for us to share a room,” Morgan insisted.

Guy released a surprised laugh. “Proper? Since when do you care for proper, Morgan? This is the man who was found with his hand up Miss Chadwick’s skirts in the middle of the street. I hardly think proper matters, and you know Julia would not care one whit.”

“Perhaps I am trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman would stay with his wife all night once he had bedded her.”

Morgan grunted. It was not the best way to start a marriage, of that he was aware, but nor was screaming and shouting in his wife’s ear during his nightmares.

“You know Julia wants me to talk you into stay longer. Or even letting one of the local houses.”

“Who knew there were so many houses to let in the area?” Morgan grumbled.

“Bartholomew managed to find one, though why he wants to stay here, I don’t know. I would have thought a merchant man like himself needed to stay in London.”

A shard of jealousy lodged itself in Morgan’s gut like a knife. “I know why he wants to be here.”

Emma. It was all about Emma. God knows why, though. It was not like he could have her now she was married. For some reason, the man had decided to continue to pursue her, despite her wedded status. Maybe he thought he could have an affair with her, but there was no chance his beautiful, passionate Emma would go with a man like that.

Would she?

No. Never. She was too kind and honest for that. But he could not help listening to that nagging voice that was telling him what a terrible job of being a husband he was doing. Bedding her and leaving her. Keeping secrets. But how did one tell their new wife that one was plagued with nightmares so hideous that he woke up in a cold sweat? How did one explain that the mere thought of riding in carriages through the country sent a chill down his spine? A wife was meant to look up to her husband. Was meant to look to him for protection too. How could he keep any respect from her if he told her what was really going on?

“What’s happening with you, Morgan?” Guy narrowed his gaze at him.

Morgan laughed. “Well, I did get married unexpectedly. Is that not a reason enough for a man to be a little out of sorts?”

“We’ve known each other a long time. I’ve never seen you like this. I know you loathe the country but come on, man, you must admit you are being odd about it all.”

“I merely wish to return to London as soon as possible. The gossip will have died down before long.”

“Now that’s wishful thinking.”

Morgan sighed. He knew it was. To give Emma a fighting chance in London society, he needed to stay in Hampshire just a little longer. If he took her back to experience all the malicious gossip, she would flee London and never return to be at his side. The thought of living apart from her made his gut tighten. He needed her kisses, and her touch, and her brutal honesty.

He frowned. He was beginning to need that woman a lot more than he realized. “I promised Emma I would stay a while. we had a deal.”

“Yes, I heard about this. You are to give the countryside a fair chance.”

“I said two weeks and I’m a man of my word, but you know as well as I do, nothing will change. I love London. I will not live anywhere else.”

Guy gave a shrug. “You should be telling Emma this, not me. But, Morgan, you’re a married man now. Surely your interests will change? It was different when you were a bachelor. You could hop from bed to bed. I am not so sure London will hold the same appeal any longer.”

“I like London. I want to live in London,” Morgan insisted.

Guy went to turn away then paused. “You will treat Emma well, will you not? Julia will have your head and mine if you do not.”

“Do you doubt me?”

Guy eyed him then shook his head. “No. I know you enjoyed your time as a bachelor but I know you’re not a fickle man. But, please, do not mess this up. Julia would be heartbroken if you hurt Emma and I do not wish to see any of them hurt.”

Morgan pressed a hand to his heart. “I will look after her, I swear.” But he’d look after her in London. Nowhere else.

“You had better hasten upstairs and make yourself presentable. The rest of the house is stirring.”

“Why are you awake so early?” Morgan asked.

“Julia couldn’t sleep and therefore neither could I. Of course she’s asleep now.” Guy gave a rueful smile. “Did Emma tell you Amelia’s news?”

Morgan nodded. “You shall be next.”

“It could be you.”

Morgan blinked. It could be. After all if he had his way once they returned to London he’d been taking Emma to bed with great frequency. Of course, being an earl, he had always known he would have to sire an heir but he’d been putting that to the back of his mind for so long, he’d stupidly forgotten it could be a consequence of taking Emma to bed without precautions. Christ, he’d been so wrapped up in his need for her, he had not thought straight for days.

“May the best man win, I suppose.” Morgan grinned.

“I always do.” Guy jerked his head toward the door. “Now go see to your wife.”

Morgan hurried up to the guest bedroom to find Emma still asleep. Curled up on one side, her hair had come lose from the braid she habitually did before bed, sending little curls over the white pillow. Her lips were parted and her breaths slow and heavy. Copper lashes splayed against freckled cheeks. There was an innocence to her that made his heart swell.

For all he knew, she could already be carrying his child. He doubted it, but it was a possibility. His chest felt impossibly full at the thought of her belly round with his son or daughter. She’d make a wonderful mother, he was certain of that. Emma was patient, strong-willed, kind and witty. He couldn’t ask for a better partner really.

He shook his head to himself. How strange fate was to throw him on top of a woman he might not have even bothered to pay attention to. After all, Emma was everything he had avoided in a bed partner before—an innocent virgin and therefore not at all on his list to be conquested.

She stirred while he watched her, stretching her arms above her head and blinking at him through the dusky light of the morning as it slipped lazily into the room through the gap in the curtains. “Morgan?”

“Good morning, my wicked woman.”

A grin curved her lips. “I do feel wicked.” She sighed and brushed a hand over the pillow where he should have slept. “I wish you would have stayed with me, though.”

“I am trying to be a gentleman.”

“You don’t need to be. You’re my husband.”

He came and sat on the bed next to her to press a kiss to her forehead. Emma apparently had other ideas. She hooked her hands around his neck and pulled him down onto her with surprising strength. “It is still early,” she whispered, the words skimming his lips and sending heat unfurling through him.

“It is,” he agreed.

“Stay with me a while then. You do not need to be a gentleman.”

“What am I to do with you?” he said with a grin, pressing a kiss to the pulse fluttering in her neck.

She gave a sigh. “Anything you wish.”

He drew back and looked into her eyes. He took in the little flecks of brown scattered in the green and the way her pupils widened when he came close and let his lips hover above hers. Morgan studied the gentle curve of her nose and the delicate but stubborn chin. He tried to count each freckle but got lost.

Lost. That was a good way to describe it. He was becoming lost in her—lost to her. Inexplicably, he’d been pushed into a marriage with the most amazing woman.

“What is it?” she asked, softly.

He shook his head. He kissed her deeply before stripping away her chemise and making long, slow love to her. If he could not vocalize it, he could at least try to tell her through his movements.