He slid in beside her, tapped gently on the roof and took her in his arms as they swayed into motion. She stirred enough to snuggle into him, then sank back into sleep.
Oddly enough, he was quite happy with that. Yes, he had news, and yes he was looking forward to telling her what he had learned. But for now, the sensation of travelling back home to Mowbray House with his new wife in his arms…well it surpassed anything he had experienced up to now. He’d never expected anything like this. Never thought about having, or wanting, anything like this. His life had simply never included the matter of his own family, or producing an heir, or any of the other more customary goals. No, he had single-mindedly pursued his business interests, with the aim of enlarging them in a sensible and solid fashion, and spent his leisure time on the occasional trip into London, and more often a visit to one of the many dungeons catering to his particular sensual tastes.
He’d found he had to choose those carefully, since he disliked brutality or cruelty of any kind. He liked dominating a woman, but not abusing her. He liked controlling her body, and her mind, but not destroying her ability to think or act, or punishing her if she did so.
His preferences were not for the cane or the whip; nor did he want to see welts or blood.
To him, those were best left to whoever would accept such treatment, and to those who had no compunction about delivering it.
In Kitty, the woman sleeping so soundly in his arms, he had found the best of everything. And she’d erupted into his life so recently, it seemed all but impossible…but there it was. And there she was.
He knew she would please him in bed, and his pleasure had been multiplied by her responses to his actions. And yet she was not of a submissive character at all. On the contrary, she would stand up for herself if necessary, without a second thought. She had spent so much of her life tucked away in the country, which might have explained her intelligence. All those years reading…she had acquired a brain that worked rapidly and efficiently. Debating and discussing matters with her would always be a delight.
She was, he decided, the only woman he could possibly have considered marrying. If he’d asked her yesterday evening, he knew she most likely would have said either a definitive no, or that it was too soon. Both of which would have been valid answers, and both of which he knew he could not have tolerated.
So now he had one last task ahead. To bind this woman to him so tightly she would never leave. To make sure she understood that she was his, and their marriage was real.
That, he decided, was what really mattered. Everything else was mere detail.
They rolled smoothly to a halt in front of Mowbray House, and Max gave Kitty a gentle shake. “Time to wake up, my dear. We’re home.”
She stirred, yawned, smiled sleepily at him and eased herself upright. “I am sorry. I fell asleep waiting for you.”
“I know. It’s all right.” He stepped down from the coach and turned back, putting his hands at her waist and swinging her bodily out and onto the ground. “Let’s go in. It’s late and I’m tired.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
Before she could say another word, he lifted her once more, this time in his arms, and carried her up the steps and into Mowbray House. Deery, who was waiting inside, looked alarmed. “Sir? Miss Ridlington?”
Max grinned. “You may welcome your new mistress, Deery. This is no longer Miss Ridlington. I’m proud to say she’s now Mrs. Seton-Mowbray.”
Deery, to give him credit, did not faint. He did look stunned for all of three seconds, and then a smile began to curve his lips, soon becoming a full-blown expression of joy. “Sir. Madam. I’m—I’ve no idea of what to say, except for congratulations. And best wishes. Oh my goodness. The staff will be thrilled indeed.” He looked at Kitty, sitting comfortably against Max’s chest, with her legs over his arms. “Welcome, Mrs. Max. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Deery. I’m thrilled to be here.” She turned in his arms. “You can put me down, you know.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to.” He glanced at her. “I’m quite happy with the way things are.”
“Oh.” She thought about that. “Very well, then. Carry on.”
“I intend to.” He smirked. “Deery, if you would lock up? We will be retiring immediately and will not need anything else tonight. My wife’s maid can deal with all the arrangements in the morning.”
“Very good, sir.” Deery bowed.
Turning, Max eagerly headed for the stairs. Then he paused. “Oh, Deery? Would you make sure my sister joins us for breakfast, and send an invitation around to Sir Peregrine’s first thing. I’d like him here too if it’s not too early.”
“As you wish, sir.” Deery bowed again.
“Good night.”
“And to you, sir. Madam.”
Max was almost at the top of the stairs and barely heard his butler’s last words. He was too intent on his wife—and the way she was looking at him.
~~~~*
Welcome home.
Deery’s words rang in Kitty’s ears as her husband carried her upstairs and down the corridor to his rooms. She looked at him, his face so strong and determined, and yet—when he glanced down at her—an expression of something like hunger flickered in his eyes.
She felt desire sweep over her, followed by heat and a desperate need to touch him. To run her hands over his skin, to smell his fragrance, to learn every inch of him over and over again.
She licked her lips. “Hurry.”
He nearly tripped over the threshold to his bedchamber, and she laughed as he stumbled them both to the bed and dropped her on it with a grunt. “I am.”
She slid off the quilt and kicked her slippers off, reaching for the ties at her knees to release her stockings. He tore off his jacket and waistcoat, cursing when his cravat refused to unravel immediately.
Her stockings joined her slippers on the floor, next to Max’s boots. He threw his cravat on the bed and his shirt fell away in seconds.
Kitty purred at the sight, went to him and turned her back, lifting the heavy curls of hair away from her neck. She jumped at the sensation of his teeth grazing her skin as his fingers went to work on her lacings. In moments her dress was a pile of shot silk on the carpet, and his hands were on her body, pulling away the delicate silk undergarments, leaving her naked and breathless.
“My necklace,” she said, keeping her back to him.
“Just a second…”
She heard noises and realized he’d shed his breeches. Then the clasp of her necklace loosened and she reached up to catch it in her hands.
“Wait.”
She froze at the command, shivering a little as she recognized the sound. “All right.”
“Leave the necklace where it is for a minute. Put your hands behind you.”
Doing as she was bid, Kitty jumped as she felt his cravat—linking her wrists as he firmly tied them in place. “Max?”
“Sssh.” He tested the bonds and apparently found them to his satisfaction. “Now. Turn around.”
She did, eagerly, although frustrated that she could not touch him. She pulled a little at the fabric binding her wrists.
“Not too tight?” he asked.