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You’re too good for me, my love. Too kind. Too gentle. I’m undeserving.
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IT’S FUNNY HOW MUCH life can change in a short period of time.
One could be gallivanting around Europe, pining for the lost love of his youth when, in a flash, one finds himself walking a dusty road with that very same love.
Owen glanced over at his wife as they strolled towards the village for the annual August fete, deciding the weather too congenial to ride cooped up in the carriage. He appreciated the exercise and the opportunity to have Lily completely to himself on the deserted path. The knowledge of her migraines shook him to the core. To see her brought so low fortified the wall of protection he wanted to give her, despite their rocky past.
Meekness had never been a part of his countess, yet it coated every word when she’d explained her condition to him.
Frankly, it didn’t sit well.
Lily was fiery. She was stubborn and strong.
She did not fall victim to maladies.
That was the old Lily.
Dust tickling his nose, Owen sneezed and gratefully took the handkerchief Lily offered. “Thank you. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve been so long away from England that my body’s forgotten how to adjust to her nature as allergies abound.”
“You have been rather sneezy and puffy lately,” she agreed, a teasing lilt to her voice.
Affronted by the description, he shook his head vehemently. “I have never been puffy in my life. An earl is always dignified in disposition, even one afflicted with allergies.”
“If you say so, my lord.” She shrugged one elegant shoulder. Smiles played upon their mouths at the slight banter, until their wooden crossing came into view.
Shoreham Bridge.
The location of her parents’ incident.
“Do you think of them often?” A picture of Owen’s father presented itself in his mind as he considered their mutual loss. At least I still have Mama.
“Every day. You? With your father?”
“The same. Especially while handling estate affairs. He’s a lot to live up to.”
“Yes, he was a good man, though you are, too.” The compliment didn’t sound as difficult as he imagined it might be for her to announce. “You’ve always been intelligent and inventive. I’m sure whatever issues arise, you are more than capable of dealing with them.”
Pride swelled in his chest at her adamant faith. He knew he was able, yet his mind absorbed it differently hearing the declaration from Lily. Her confidence in his abilities elicited a boyish need to preen and prove she was right to put such stock in him.
“Careful, you almost sounded wifely there.”
An unladylike snort erupted at the accusation. “Oh, dear, I must be more careful...” Her amusement carried them across the bridge without falter, though Lily’s hand strayed to the sturdy posts lining the rail more than once. “I envied your escape, you know.”
“My escape?”
Red suffused her skin, a blush rather than a burn from the sun, underneath her bonnet. “Your great tour of the Continent. While precipitated by our falling out, it coincided with your father’s sudden death as well.” She chanced a peek up at him, and he felt the perusal of her gaze. “You have no idea how many times I wished I could leave this place after Mama and Papa died. When Hazel actually did leave, a certain jealousy took root then, too.”
“I always thought I made the cowardly choice. Deserting Mama. Running from you. Seven years of running.”
“If you’re a coward, then so am I,” she admitted. “Because I would’ve made the same choice.”
“We always did share similarities.”
“But our differences are glaring.” Perhaps not as much as they once were, he thought. To his recollection, their differences served as the perfectly cut edges meant to fit together like puzzle pieces, creating a larger picture of harmony than the smaller discords would let on.
“How do you feel about Hazel’s departure now? She seems happy with her life in Manchester, married and all.”
“I’m glad she’s found what she was searching for. To be honest, I’ve always loved it here. It’s my home. My escape would have always been limited to a short time. I could never stay away for long.”
Yes, he understood the sentiment. Being away from Hampshire had left a county-sized hole in his chest. His beloved home, mother, and the girl next door. They’d followed him through every museum, salon, and brothel Brandon imposed upon him.
Once again, their natures were in accord.
“I can’t help a certain amount of amusement, though, at the thought of you going on your energetic promenades in Hyde Park in London. Civilized society would be scandalized.”
“Then it’s a good thing they don’t know about the rest of my scandalous past. Or else the poor matrons would tumble into paroxysms of despair.”
Chuckling, he agreed.
Chirping birds and the occasional trill of a breeze shifting through reeds followed them. Summer was in full effect with blue skies, white clouds, and rolling green hills as far as the eye could see. Owen inhaled a deep whiff of the sweet summer-grass and hummed in pleasure. He loved this time of year when everything lay in full bloom and the sun’s rays saturated every dark corner leftover from winter.
Echoing the sentiment, Lily tipped her head back to soak in the summer heat, heedless of getting burned. “It’s the perfect day for a fair. The whole village will be in attendance, I wager.”
“No doubt, you’re correct. Prepare yourself for a multitude of my lords and my ladies.” An adorable moue brought her bottom lip into a full pout, and the temptation to kiss the pretty pink overwhelmed him. Everything about her overwhelmed him these days.
He’d heard tales of pregnancy being an intolerable nuisance for husbands as their wives complained of various pains and grew rounder with each passing month. But Owen didn’t know what the devil was wrong with those men because Lily flourished with her condition.
Skin glowing with health. Breasts fuller in preparation for their babe. Every single change he’d witnessed served to draw him like honey to the bee. He only wished he could view them completely without barriers, but knew Lily wasn’t ready for such intimacies yet. So, he comforted himself with the glimpses of flesh readily available to his thirsty gaze and prayed this drought would promptly end as their short journey neared its end, the village of Shoreham coming into view.
***
COLORFUL FLAGS FLUTTERED along clothing lines strung between the shops as Lily and Owen entered the village. Fair attendees roamed the street with hands full of shopping parcels and delicious treats, a contagious air of excitement emanating from the thoroughfare.
“What shall it be first? Food or exhibits?” Owen gestured towards the stalls set up along the grassy knoll behind the butcher’s shop where livestock and acrobats reigned.
Stomach grumbling in answer, Lily pointed to a crowded vendor selling flavored ices. “Food.”
“More like flavored water, but as my lady commands.” A gallant bow waved her forward, and they weaved through the energetic crowd, Owen keeping a protective arm around her waist as he parted the waves of people. The chivalrous gesture melting her reserve.
“Has it always been this crowded? It seems to have grown three times since I last attended.”
“Each year, more vendors come to peddle their wares. I believe Shoreham now holds the title of largest fair in the county.”
“We ought to capitalize on that somehow.”
“Spoken like a true businessman.”
“My father would be proud,” Owen quipped. “After our depleted coffers, he never looked down on those who worked for their living again. Especially since his father-in-law owned an impressive business, enabling him to give my mother a large enough dowry to save our hides.”
“I suppose it’s difficult to argue superiority of blood and laziness when all it landed you was trouble. I’m glad your father saw the error of his ways,” she said as they moved to the end of a line for ices, slowly making their way towards the front.
Raised voices from the stall next door caught Lily’s attention.
“I demand a refund!”
“But sir, three-quarters of the bag is gone. If you’d returned after first trying—”
“Are you calling me a liar?” A tall mustached man pointed his walking stick at the poor vendor with malice. “I am Sir Reginald Cook, and you shall treat me with respect!” Tossing a clearly opened and eaten bag of sweets to the counter, Sir Cook continued indignantly, “Return my money or else I shall accuse you of theft—of taking advantage of your customers.”
“I recognize that look in your eyes. This is none of your concern,” Owen warned by her ear, wrenching her from the perusal of the altercation.
“We can’t allow that odious man to cheat them. He devoured those sweets and now wants to claim he didn’t care for them? Wants his money back? That’s what I call theft!”
“Lily-pad...”
But she was already exiting the line to confront this Sir Cook. “Excuse me, perhaps I could be of assistance. It is unfair of you to expect recompense after using this seller’s product. If you had an issue with your order, the proper time to address it would’ve been immediately after you’d opened the bag. However, you chose to eat the majority of licorice anyway.” Lily took a breath, marching closer to the stunned man. “Are you ill? Somehow poisoned by the product? No? Then leave this poor man alone and go on your way. You’re ruining a perfectly amiable summer afternoon.”
“How dare you,” Cook sputtered. “Who do you think you are, woman? Trot on to bother someone else before—”
“I’d be careful on how you address Her Ladyship, the Countess of Trent.” A strong arm circled Lily’s waist as Owen gathered her safely behind him. She couldn’t resist the smug thrill that ran through her at his protection and the priceless look of shock written on Sir Cook’s face at learning her identity.
“My lord, my lady.” He tapped his walking stick into the dirt a few times, bowing his head quickly in deference. “I apologize. Of course, I had no idea...”
“All women should be treated with respect... Sir Cook, is it? A gentleman should know this.”
“Yes, yes. Quite right.”
“I suggest you take your leave and think about your actions today, sir. As my wife said, you’re ruining everyone’s enjoyment.”
Without another word, the man scampered away, leaving the parcel of contention behind on the vendor’s counter, where the man promptly tossed it in a bin beside him. “Thank you, my lord, my lady. Please take whatever you’d like as a sign of my gratitude!”
“Oh, we couldn’t. We only meted out justice. How dare he try to swindle you so blatantly!”
“It happens more often than you’d think, my lady.”
“For that, I’m truly sorry.” Lily tipped her head towards the assortment of candies. “Dear, why don’t you purchase those collections of cinnamon sweets? I know they’re your favorite.”
Owen grinned as he laid out an extravagant amount of coins to the vendor’s astonishment before snatching up the treats. An image of a toddler wearing a matching grin of mischief popped into her head, and she covered the slight bump of her belly.
Their child would have a sweet tooth like their father.
And the similarity brought a burst of joy to her heart.
“Shall we return to our original plan of ices or will candy suffice for now?” Owen asked, proffering one of the round delicacies.
Popping it into her mouth, Lily grinned. “The baby and I prefer both.”
A bark of laughter drew the attention of those around them as they retreated to the back of the queue again. Lily loved his laugh, and she loved being the source of it even more. Most of her acerbic comments or sassy remarks resulted in exasperated sighs from her family. It rapidly became too much for them. But never for Owen.
The Italian vendor manning the stall welcomed them forward and offered strawberry or marmalade ices. Lily noted a large container behind him where a woman and boy stirred and turned various metal cannisters, making enough of the flavors to keep up with demand.
“Two strawberries, please.” Of course, Owen would remember her favorite fruit and guess her preference correctly. It concerned her how well he understood her, how attuned to her desires he was.
Not as if you can’t do the same. Recall the cinnamon sweets of not ten minutes ago.
But for some reason, it didn’t feel the same. Owen’s knowledge attributed to his kindness. Hers... well, wasn’t. Because she didn’t think of herself as a particularly kind person—or at least one who possessed it as a defining quality.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Owen bumped her elbow with his as they meandered through the crowd until they reached a grassy area where a group of children played. They seemed to be racing each other as two would line up before a third would drop a worn hanky to send them off to cross a makeshift finish line.
Searching for an appropriate replacement for her true thoughts, she asked, “Do you remember when we used to play tag as children?” She nodded towards the young group before them. A split had occurred, with boys on one side and girls on the other.
“Vividly. You and Hazel always won when we played as pairs.”
“And I bet I could still beat you in a race.” Though he certainly hadn’t let himself go with age. Defined muscles flexed and trembled beneath his skin, and she knew most intimately the strength of his body. His arms bracing her against the wall. His chest bearing down on hers.
Goodness gracious!
Lily swallowed the last liquid sip of strawberry ice thankfully, her parched throat working double-time at the memory of exactly how fit her husband was.
“Care to a rematch?” He dared before glancing down at her belly. “If it’s safe in your condition, that is.”
“Surely, it’s fine. My body’s accustomed to a bit of exercise; it will be good for me.”
“Excellent.” They approached the crowd of children, and Owen interrupted whatever disagreement they were having with a jaunty smile. “Good day, children. May I trouble you for some help? My wife has challenged me to a footrace, and I can’t deny the opportunity to claim a victory. Would you mind standing witness?”
Mouths agape, one boy moved forward. “Did you say you’re going to race your wife? Aren’t you the Earl of Trent?”
“Which makes my wife the Countess of Trent. Yes, you heard correctly.” Owen winked at her, and she shook her head, bemused. “Are lords and ladies not allowed to participate in your fun?”
“Oh, no, sir! I didn’t mean—”
“Ignore my husband’s teasing, dear,” Lily said, patting the flabbergasted boy on the shoulder. “He can’t help himself. I’m only recently a countess, but before our marriage, I was just like you. A country lass who loved to scamper about outdoors.”
Twin girls with red braids tittered behind their hands and scampered closer. “You’re like Cinderella!”
Ah, miniature Hazels with their fanciful tales of romance. But she didn’t find it as annoying as she may have in the past. In fact, it was sort of endearing.
“But I don’t have an evil stepmother, thank heavens! Or terrible sisters, either!” Lily made a show of removing her boots, wiggling her toes within thin stockings—poor things sure to be torn from their upcoming trial—and beckoned for Owen to join her. “No excuses now, since I’ve chosen to give you an advantage by forgoing my sturdier boots. Are we ready to race or not, Mr. Prince Charming?”
“Boys, pay attention. A smart man would recognize that tone from his lady and gracefully bow out, ceding her superiority in every way. However, I’ve been accused of being slow in the past, so I fear I can’t resist rising to this challenge.” Owen grinned at her despite the conversation he referenced being hostile. That day at the gazebo seemed ages ago, certainly more than a mere matter of months.
And she supposed it hadn’t been a completely terrible day; they’d shared their first kiss in years in that charged moment. The catalyst to their subsequent actions at his mother’s ball.
Something I should regret, she reminded herself. Stop ruminating on the past. You’re having fun; don’t ruin it!
“Watch and learn girls,” Lily countered, waving the little ones in fluttering pastel dresses to observe from the side. “Whenever a male supposes your inferiority based on your sex, be sure to show him the right of things with a prompt demonstration of your skills.”
More giggles erupted from their young students as Lily and Owen took their places beside each other. Feeling the urge to laugh herself, she gave into the bit of joy and channeled it into an impulsive kiss on Owen’s cheek. Immediately, he straightened from his hunched position, a flash of wonder causing her to flush from more than just excitement and the heat of the day.
It felt good to allow herself some freedom. To openly express herself without recriminations. Something about the euphoric atmosphere and their innocent onlookers must be catching, because the years of animosity melted away until it was just Lily and Owen—childhood friends and young lovers. Two individuals who fought and made up in equal measure. Two people who didn’t bear the weight of costly mistakes.
“On your mark. Get set. Go!” The hanky dropped and Lily took off, leaving a dazed Owen behind before quickly recovering. Yielding grass cushioned every foot fall, and wind swept through her braided hair, teasing out reckless strands of abandon.
Heavy thumping stamped in the background as Owen gained speed, but she knew he wouldn’t catch her. She’d never lost a race to him, and not for a lack on his part. Throwing her hands up in victory, Lily crossed the yellow ribbon laid out as the finish line while whooping hollers barreled down on her.
Congratulatory exclamations followed with each child beaming and sharing their enthusiasm at seeing a countess beat her earl. Their contagious energy drawing a laugh of pure joy from Lily.
“You were amazing, my lady!” A curly-haired tot exclaimed, her hand held securely in her older brother’s. “How’d you learn to run that fast?”
Shifting into a comfortable position on the ground, Lily tucked her simple skirt under her knees while Owen sat beside her, lazily chewing on a blade of grass. Amusement gleamed from his grey eyes as he raised an eyebrow at her sudden popularity. Reveling in this unexpected sensation of happiness, she lowered a hand to his hidden in the grass and gently grazed her thumb back and forth before launching into tales of their adventures with her sisters.
Another vision bloomed in her mind. This time an idyllic scene of three. Her, Owen, and their child picnicking in the summer while they both told stories of their childhood.
And a peculiar thawing breached another one of her walls.
***
“I REMEMBER IT PERFECTLY because the sun bore down on my head like a blazing inferno, and later that evening my mother lamented the red crisp to my face.” Owen crossed his arms in triumph, a victorious glow shining in his eyes, daring her to dispute the facts as he saw them.
After an afternoon spent entertaining the children and exploring the fair, they’d finished their tour on the outskirts of town, concealed in a forest of oaks. Cara and Iris had eaten lunch with them, while Owen’s mother waved a greeting from her group of friends. All in all, it’d been one of the best days she’d had in a long time.
Invigorated, Lily gladly took up the gauntlet, determined to remind him exactly how wrong he was. Must continue his losing streak after all, she thought smugly. “Ah, yes, a blazing inferno of a day,” she drawled. “Only the sky resembled a wooly gray blanket threatening to drench us in a deluge of rain at any second. But I understand how you could confuse the afternoon of our first kiss with another. As you liked to taunt, your true first kiss was with Sally Fielding, the butcher’s daughter, under the oak tree behind her father’s shop. On a perfectly sunny day.”
A faint blush stained Owen’s cheeks, and she relished the sight of his discomfiture until a sly grin transformed the look of chagrin into one of satisfaction. “And how is it, dear wife, that you recall such a memory? Jealous of Miss Fielding?”
“How is it, dear husband,” she imitated. “That you’ve forgotten it? For weeks your crowing pestered those of us within earshot.”
“I haven’t forgotten it; the details were a bit off. Though to be fair, the day of our kiss, more enticing subjects interested me rather than the weather and location.”
“Such as?”
Owen stalked forward, sudden heat darkening his irises, and it took all of Lily’s strength to remain steadfast instead of retreating from his large form. “The way the bodice of your lavender gown molded to the high curve of your breasts. Wasn’t the first time I’d noticed them, but it was the first time I saw a reciprocating appreciation in your eyes when I glanced upward. Tell me, what were you thinking?”
Lily weighed the consequences of speaking truthfully against lying, but what did it matter if he knew now?
“A wayward swath of hair kept falling into your eyes, it tempted me to brush it aside... which led to thoughts of what your cheek would feel like under my fingertips.”
“Like the tender inside of a petal. That’s what I imagined yours would be like, but I was wrong.”
Her breath hitched in her lungs. Trying to make light of the dangerous direction their conversation headed, she asked, “I suppose it was more comparable to sandpaper or thistle?”
His quick laugh swept over her senses, rousing old memories of times they laughed after ridiculous spats. “Hardly. You’re softer than any flower, Lily-pad.”
A flutter beat against her belly, though whether from the babe or an unfortunate sprout of desire, she couldn’t say.
“And the softest, sweetest part?” His voice dropped lower to form a cocoon of intimacy around them in the copse of trees. “The most tempting delicacies were these lips and the pretty pout, right here.” His finger didn’t touch, just hovered over her mouth. “But you were determined to remain ornery that day, weren’t you? To make me chase?”
“Everything’s come so easily for you, my lord,” she taunted, knowing how he hated it when she became deferential. “A little effort didn’t seem amiss at the time.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Nothing worth having is easy to achieve.”
“And you considered me worthy?”
“Correction: you’re still worthy.”
Oh, my.
Resting one hand above her head on the rough tree bark, he leaned forward, determination written on his handsome features. “Let’s call a truce, shall we? We each made mistakes in the past, but we’re adults now. It’s not too late to build a future we both will be happy with, especially with a child on the way. I’m tired of the animosity between us, aren’t you?”
Yes.
He mirrored her exact thoughts of the morning.
But could it really be that easy? Declaring a truce, moving on like none of it had happened?
“Think about it; I’ll even help you.” Owen rubbed his cheek against hers before blowing a stream of warm air across her neck underneath her ear, teasing the tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid. His tongue drew patterns on her skin before his lips sucked on the spot, surely leaving behind a trail of small bruises leading straight to her décolletage.
Breathless, Lily squirmed beneath him. “This is supposed to help me think? Funny, I don’t recall this particular method for concentration.”
“No?” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Must have picked it up on my travels, then.”
They hadn’t kissed since the short peck he’d given her at their wedding ceremony, which she hardly counted. The last true kiss between them had been on the fateful night of his mother’s birthday ball—the night she got pregnant.
Suddenly, she wanted this more than anything. Wanted to wipe the slate clean. To erase that memory of frenzy and hurt and betrayal.
“Owen... Kiss me.”
“Does this mean you agree?” He taunted, avoiding her searching mouth as she turned her head. “We agree to start anew and leave the past in the past.”
“Yes, yes... Now, stop prolonging this torture and kiss me.”
“As my lady wishes.” A raffish grin blinked into view before her eyes closed to the brightness of the moment, and they sealed their deal with a kiss. Skimming eager hands up his body, she relished the feel of shifting muscles beneath his clothing. Relished the fact that she could stop pretending not to want him as desperately as she did.
A low groan rumbled between them as Owen laid his weight more heavily into hers, pressing her harder against the massive tree trunk. Scrapes of bark dug into her skin. Then a waft of heat tore her focus from discomfort to shock.
“I’ve wanted to do this for months.” The neckline of her dress flapped in the wind after Owen unlaced the ties holding it together. She’d worn a simple peasant top for the fair, nothing ornate to befit her recent title, and it provided easy access for her husband’s roving hands as he slid the last barrier between them—her flimsy chemise—aside, tugging it to rest below her breasts. Hefting the globes in his rough palms, Owen tested their weight with a squeeze, but her abrupt inhale stopped him cold.
“What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”
“Hurt’s a bit strong.” She nibbled her lip, embarrassed by this new discovery of her ever-changing body. “But they are sore, sensitive. It’s the baby’s fault.” And she had not an ounce of guilt for blaming the little one either.
“Ah... I’ll be gentler, then.”
Delicate kisses peppered her breasts, following freckles and veins haphazardly, until Owen took a swollen nipple between his lips and suckled—tenderly, rhythmically—the sensual pull creating a direct pulsing below.
“Owen...” His name hung in the air as he switched sides. The indecent sound of wet flesh meeting in an erotic symphony shivered through her senses.
“Is this alright, sweetheart?” Hazel gold clashed with flashing silver as their gazes met over her breast, the nipple remaining indecently inside Owen’s mouth, cheeks hollowing at each light suck.
A trembling nod answered him, and a warm hand ventured under her skirt. Another clothing item meant for comfort on a hot summer day, it allowed him easy access to the treasure he searched for.
“Owen, we shouldn’t...” His palm cupped her quim. Bracing her heels in the ground, Lily canted forward, yearning for a firmer touch. “We could get caught.”
“Excellent point, darling.” He traced her outer lips, combing through wet curls, before sliding through her slick heat. “It’s about damn time we gave everyone a different scandal to remember. Whenever your name enters a conversation, I want mine attached to it, not that fucking Asa Lynch.” A sharp thrust of fingers punctuated his point, and Lily squeaked at the swift entry.
Withdrawing with a wicked suctioning, Owen repeated the harsh plunge again, the heel of his palm smacking her clitoris, and making her buck in response.
“Oh, god...”
“Can you imagine the gossip, especially from that nosy body, Mrs. Holly?” He nipped her ear, lost in passion. “The Earl of Trent caught fucking his countess against a tree. Her wet pussy squeezing his fingers with each rough thrust. Her cries of need only assuaged when he sank his cock into her waiting heat.”
“Mrs. Holly learned some filthy words since I last saw her,” Lily muttered, clamping intimate muscles on Owen’s fingers to entice him to follow through with his story.
“You have no idea...” His pace quickened, each upward stroke grinding into the tingling bud of her sex. “Damn, you could kill a man with this cunt. You’re doing so well, Lily-pad. Are you going to take my cock so easily? I warn you, it’s thick. I’m going to stretch you, darling. Won’t you like that?”
“Yes...” She moaned as her orgasm rose like a tidal wave, crashing through her senses and carrying her away from everything but Owen. It had been ages since she’d felt such a release. Since Owen and their trysts.
His touch gentled, drawing out the sensations until the little spasms in her muscles subsided. “I remember how large you are, Owen. I’ve dreamt about that day we swam in the lake numerous times.” Too many times, if she were honest. But she always woke before the culmination of their kisses and touches.
Now, it was his turn to pant with pleasure. Light eyes bore into hers. “Have you? When was the last time?”
“Three days ago. After I caught you returning from another swim. Your shirt hung over your shoulders. Bold of you to let the maids see you so undone.” Like a dog with its tongue hanging out, she’d watched from the parlor window as he traipsed up the drive, desperate to lick the droplets of water shining under the sun, gilding his skin in diamonds.
“Jealous?”
Lily kissed a path up his neck, reveling in the salty sweat, before admitting, “Quite.”
“Next time, you’ll have to join me.”
Licking her lips, she retied the laces on her shirt and shimmied out from under Owen before replying with a wink. “Maybe I will.” She exaggerated the swing of her hips, knowing he tracked her every move like a hungry predator.
“And you’ll be naked this time, won’t you?” Their previous swimming interlude she’d held onto her propriety by the scrap of her chemise.
“I can hardly swim with layers weighing me down, can I?” Lily teased, arching a brow as her head tilted to catch his pained expression as he caught up to her. He must be imagining it. Gaze dropping to his groin, she already knew he was worked up from fingering her, but it appeared he’d swelled more with her taunts.
She should take pity on him.
Should relieve him.
It wouldn’t be a hardship. Her hand itched to remember the velvety skin of his shaft, the heavy stones beneath. It had been ages since she’d felt those as well.
“Then you’re definitely joining me, minx.” Suddenly, Owen’s hands attacked her sides, determined to tickle and grab, a playful growl emanating from his chest. Yelping at the abrupt attack, Lily skipped away with a laugh.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Capturing my wife, so she can stop tormenting me with fantasies.” He lunged for her again, but Lily was too quick, jogging just out of his reach.
“We’re too old to play this game, Owen.” But that didn’t stop her from provoking him, edging closer before bounding away with a giggle. As if time had reversed, they acted like teenagers again, running and hollering, teasing the other, and if someone happened to witness the antics of the local earl and his wife, they would’ve smiled, remarking upon what a lovely pair the two lovebirds made.