As they made their way up to their bedchamber, Ian held her with infinite gentleness. His fingers were whisper soft as he removed her dress and underclothes, covering each newly bared section of her flesh with tantalizing kisses. By the time they were naked, Angelica was panting with a half-mad need for him to take her.
But Ian was merciless, kissing and caressing every inch of her form until she practically sobbed to feel him inside her. Then, he entered her with torturous slowness, his thrusts timed perfectly to their mingled heartbeats.
As her passion rose to a furious peak, Angelica mouthed the words, “I love you.” She nearly said the words aloud but then Ian’s climax hit, drowning the words to a muffled cry as her orgasm intensified.
“Good God,” Ian gasped as he gathered her into his arms.
She snuggled against his chest and wondered if she should tell him about the novel and perhaps declare her love. I will wait until the story is finished, and then I shall tell him, she decided. Angelica had always been superstitious about sharing her unfinished work, but in this case her sense of caution was doubled. She didn’t want to somehow curse the possibility of reconciliation. Her eyes closed and a contented smile played across her lips as she dreamed of him reading her story and falling in love with her, desiring a happy ending like her hero would receive.
Twenty-three
The next evening, Ian returned home immediately after feeding, for he missed his wife. He had been thinking a lot about Angelica’s behavior these past two months. Perhaps he’d judged her too harshly and her cool behavior toward him was due to being intimidated by her new position as a duchess. After all, her cool demeanor had been noticeably absent last evening.
Knowing how overzealous her mother was on subjects of propriety, he wondered if perhaps Angelica was now afraid to be herself. He would talk to her tonight, he resolved. He was sick of living with a veritable ghost of the woman who’d so delighted him in the beginning of their relationship.
He looked out the window of their bedchamber and saw that she had taken Loki outside in the garden. He knew that if he didn’t catch her now, she would flee back into her writing room to scribble until dawn. As he headed out of the room and down the hall, he noticed that the door to the writing room was ajar. Perhaps it would be a better idea to wait for her there, so she had no chance of escaping him. Also, if she were somewhere comfortable, perhaps she would be more receptive to granting him an explanation of her coldness outside of the marriage bed.
When he entered the room, his nose wrinkled at the sharp, acrid odor of burnt tobacco. At first she’d tried to hide her smoking habit from him, but she didn’t appear to care anymore what he thought. After they talked, he was determined to convince her to quit before the habit became a full-fledged addiction.
His eyes rested on her cherry wood desk, cluttered with ink bottles and papers from her manuscript and an ashtray overflowing with crushed cheroots. Ian closed his eyes as memories of making love to her on the desk flashed through his mind like quicksilver. He decided to remove the items so they could have a repeat performance.
He opened a drawer and put away her quill and ink bottle. When he emptied the ashtray into the dustbin, he was tempted to drop the piece of engraved silver in as well. He resisted the urge and placed it in the drawer with her other items.
As he swept up the pages of her manuscript, the title caught his eye. The Vampyre’s Bride, a Novel by Angelica Ashton. His jaw clenched. She would not dare!
But as he sat down in her chair and began to read, his brows knitted together and his lips thinned in rage as he realized that she did indeed dare.
***
Angelica had spent more time in the garden than she intended. After relieving himself, Loki caught a moth. The insect continued to escape—or Loki intentionally released it. He would catch his prey again, tossing the moth into the air and batting at it with dainty paws, his inky tail puffed up like a feather duster. She watched for nearly an hour, laughing at his silly antics and amazed at his keen night vision. When the kitten finally grew tired of his game, the hapless insect was reduced to tatters.
“What a fierce hunter you are!” she exclaimed, scooping him up and burying her face in his warm midnight fur. “Such prowess deserves a reward. Let’s go see if Cook will spare some cream.”