“WHAT A DAY.” Chrystabel slipped beneath the counterpane to join her husband in bed, sinking into the mattress as she relaxed for the first time in what seemed like weeks. “Thank God they’re married at last.”
“I suspect you’re really thanking God they can no longer create a child out of wedlock,” Joseph teased, leaning up to kiss her lightly on the lips. He lowered himself onto an elbow, smiling into her eyes, his own a deep, sparkling green.
She pushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead. “Well, there is that,” she admitted. When Lily and Rand’s marriage plans had been threatened by Rand’s father, she’d been mortified to realize she’d allowed them to share a bed before her daughter was safely wed. It had seemed a fine idea at the time, but it wouldn’t be happening again with Rose—or Rowan, for that matter.
Chrystabel reckoned she could learn from her mistakes.
“But mostly,” she added, “I’m just gladdened to see them happy at last. Everything worked out.”
“It usually does,” said her ever-practical husband.
She released a contented sigh. “Another wedding.”
“Another wedding night,” he responded with a lustful grin.
A tradition, their wedding nights. That was one of the reasons she so loved arranging other people’s marriages. Not that either of them needed an excuse to make love, but there was something thrilling about watching a wedding while anticipating their own wedding night to come.
She smiled as he kissed her again, then moaned when he slipped a hand beneath her night rail’s neckline to caress a sensitive breast. For long minutes they said nothing, their breathing growing louder and more ragged in the stillness of their thick-walled room.
Here, in their quiet, private chamber, her Joseph could hear whatever she said. Every word, those spoken as well as the silent ones that passed between two as attuned as they.
But they didn’t need words now. Actions would do. A brush of lips, warm skimming hands. Bodies coming together, creating a thrill that the years had done nothing to dim. Soft cries filled the chamber, matched by a low groan of pleasure that echoed into the night.
When their hearts had calmed, when Joseph leaned away to blow out the single remaining candle, Chrystabel sighed. “I’ll miss you.”
“Where are you going?” The words vibrated against her throat where he’d settled back into her arms.
“I’m thinking to take Rose to court at Windsor. With your permission, of course,” she rushed to add, knowing he would never deny her.
“Court? Do you expect that’s wise? The men there—”
“I’ll watch her like a hawk. And rest assured, there’s not a man at court I want for Rose. She belongs with Kit Martyn. He’s at Windsor as we sleep, checking on a project—”
“Kit Martyn? Chrysanthemum my love, I know you fancy yourself a matchmaker, but Rose has shown no interest—”
“Which is exactly why he’s the perfect man for her.”
Joseph lifted his head and searched her eyes in the dim, flickering light from the fire. “Come again?”
“You know how she is. As soon as she sets her sights on a man, the act begins. The flirting. The flattering. Don’t you see? She has a much better chance of winning a man she thinks she doesn’t want. With Kit she’ll be herself. Charming, intelligent, sharp-witted….why, he cannot fail but fall in love with her.”
“I suspect he’s taken with her already,” Joseph said dryly. “But what good will that do if she doesn’t fall for him? We’ve promised her she can choose her own husband.”
“Making her fall,” Chrystabel said, “will be Kit’s problem, and I’ve no doubt he’s up to the task. I need only provide the opportunity.”
“You cannot push, Chrysanthemum.”
Her laugh tinkled through the darkness. “I would never. I know full well our daughters pledged to avoid me arranging their marriages. Yet I managed to match both Violet and Lily without either being the wiser, didn’t I? Have no fear, darling—Rose’s romance will follow suit. And she’ll have no idea I was behind it.”