Melissa’s eyes snapped open. In the dim light from the lamp she had left burning, she was surprised to see Laurence. Having come through the connecting door, he was leaning against the door frame. He’d divested himself of his evening clothes and wore his robe, his arms crossed over his chest. With his tousled dark hair he unerringly drew her gaze as he stood motionless, his attention riveted on her.
Her head fuddled with sleep, she struggled to sit up. ‘Laurence! What are you doing here?’ Her mind was in complete turmoil. ‘It’s very late. You really should be in bed.’
Laurence’s expression didn’t change as he shrugged himself away from the door and slowly strode to a comfortable armchair close to the bed, one where there was no obstruction to the sight of her. Melissa watched him intently, unable to read his expression, but she sensed something was troubling him. She could smell brandy and his eyes were piercing bright.
‘Why are you here, Laurence?’ she repeated.
‘I want to talk to you.’
‘At this hour? Won’t it keep until morning?’
‘No. It has to be now—while it is on my mind.’
‘What—what is it?’
‘It’s about Alice—my first wife.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Making herself more comfortable, she resigned herself to listening to what he had to say. She had waited too long for him to do that—she wasn’t going to send him away. Perhaps after he’d told her, things would improve between them. ‘What was she really like? Please, tell me.’
‘I have no doubt Eliza has already told you something about her.’
‘A little, but I cannot form an opinion about someone I didn’t know.’
‘I would spare you the unsavoury details if I could, but I want there to be truth and honesty between us. The more you know of her the better you will understand.’
‘I understand she was very beautiful—I saw the evidence with my own eyes in the painting of her.’
‘Yes, she was. Coming from a family of moderate means, she enjoyed the trappings of my success, but she soon became bored—particularly when my business affairs sent me away for long periods and when she was at Winchcombe, away from the London social scene. We were overjoyed when Toby was born, but it soon soured and she began wanting more. Alice’s idea of marriage did not include the concept of fidelity. She was unfaithful and made no secret of the fact.’
‘I thought that in most aristocratic houses adultery was taken for granted, always provided, of course, the affair is conducted with discretion.’
‘Not in my house and not when the other party was known to me. Neither of them took the trouble to conceal the affair.’
‘And—Toby?’
‘He was mine. I am sure of that. You must have seen the likeness in the painting of him.’
‘Yes. He was the image of you—and he had that curious little birthmark which Violet has—almost in the same place.’
He nodded. ‘Exactly. My father had it also. When I failed to provide Alice with the excitement she craved, she began her affair before Toby was out of the cradle.’
‘Would I be right in thinking her lover was Gerald Mortimer?’
His lips twisted with bitterness. ‘You are very perceptive, Melissa. Yes, in answer to your question, it was.’
‘I suspected as much. That is the reason for the enmity between you.’
‘Before she became acquainted with me—or perhaps I should say my wealth—it was assumed she would marry Mortimer. She used to come down to Surrey with Eliza and Antony, which was when I met her. When they resumed their affair it soon became common knowledge. I never could come to accept it.’
‘Did she expect you to?’
‘She told me I should be more open minded, otherwise my possessiveness would destroy our marriage.’ His mouth tightened. ‘I suppose I should feel pity for Mortimer, for he was a pitiful figure, but I don’t. I could never forgive him for what he did. I began to hate him, blaming him for everything that happened. That’s not very admirable of me, I’ll admit, but that’s the way I feel. I have good reason.’
‘It’s understandable.’
‘Alice told me to pursue my own interests without interference from her. We fought constantly—right up to her death. When she died she was leaving me for Mortimer—taking Toby with her.’
He fell silent and Melissa dropped her eyes in remorse for making him feel that he had to open up to her, to speak about his wife and her lover, reopening old wounds. ‘I’m so sorry, Laurence,’ she said quietly, ‘but thank you for telling me.’
She took a steadying breath. It was hard to believe how his disclosure wounded her, as if she were the one who had been betrayed. To discover that his wife had a lover while she was married to Laurence—she felt as if a knife had been thrust into her chest. She could not fail to be moved by his past. It was hard to resist wanting to hold this beautiful, tormented man to her breast and offer him comfort. All her own insecurities came rushing back with disturbing force. Laurence hadn’t wanted to marry her—certain he didn’t love her. It was clear he was still trying to bury the demons that tormented him, but what then? Would he do as his first wife suggested and feel free to pursue these other interests? How could she hope to hold on to the affection of a man who could no doubt have any woman who caught his eye?
Standing up, Laurence moved to the bed, looking down at her. ‘Perhaps it was my fault that she sought companionship elsewhere.’
Melissa smiled up at him, a smile that hid her uncertainties. ‘Don’t blame yourself. Would things have been different if you had stayed at home more?’
‘Perhaps not. Alice would never have been satisfied. When I first met you I was still in mourning. I was lost and angry. I didn’t know myself any more.’
‘You were grieving. You had lost your son. To grieve is a natural process when you have lost someone you love.’
‘Yes—that, too. I still am. The only thing I felt I had left in my life was work—it was at the beginning of the unrest in France. It’s how I coped.’
Melissa knew this. Sometimes she heard him moving about his room in the night. Now she knew why. It was because he was unable to close his mind to the ghost of his son that invaded each night.
‘If I could give everything away to have Toby back, I would, in the blink of an eye, because for the first time in my life I wasn’t in control. The intense grief I suffered over Toby’s death has lessened with time—I no longer feel adrift without an anchor, in a sea of despair, but it still has the power to attack me now and then. Nothing meant anything at all in the face of what I’d lost. But now,’ he went on, ‘you have given me Violet—giving me what I needed without meaning to. Just by existing she has taught me to love something beyond my son and I can’t stand the thought of losing what I have found.’
‘You won’t,’ she told him, wishing with all her heart that he had included her in his statement.
‘At that stage I had no idea how long term the devastation to my life would be.’
‘I understand,’ Melissa said. ‘And I know you must find it hard to trust any woman after what Alice did to you. I can see that the prospect of putting your faith in someone must seem daunting. You have to take it one day at a time. I’m sorry if I’ve made it difficult for you.’
‘You haven’t. I realise now that I have no desire to spend the rest of my life alone. For what it’s worth you are nothing like Alice.’
‘No, Laurence, I’m not at all like her. I have no intention of leaving you or having an affair with another man. I can see that you still carry your hurt and bitterness around with you.’
Laurence’s smile was one of cynicism. ‘Does it show all that much?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it does.’
‘There are some things, Melissa, that cannot easily be put aside.’
‘I know that and I wouldn’t expect you to. But your marriage to Alice and what happened between you two is in the past and belongs there. Just like our own encounter at the Spring Gardens is now in the past. But at least one good thing came out of it: Violet. She isn’t going anywhere, Laurence. I promise you that.’
He moved closer to her, reaching out and touching her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘You are right and I adore her unashamedly.’ He smiled softly. ‘You had everyone eating out of your hand tonight. Be prepared to be inundated with invitations to attend this and that by every notable family in London.’
Melissa grimaced. ‘Really? I don’t think I’m ready for that.’
‘That’s good because they will be disappointed.’
‘On? Why is that?’
‘It’s necessary for me to leave for Plymouth shortly—I’m expecting one of my ships coming into port so I must be there. I’m going to whisk you and Violet down to Winchcombe in a day or so. I think it’s time you went down to Surrey. You will enjoy getting to know your new home while I’m away.’
‘I would like that,’ she said, although she would miss him when he had to leave. ‘How long do you expect to be away?’
‘A week—possibly more.’
Melissa watched him. All her thoughts suddenly fled as he took her hand and carried it to his lips, kissing her fingers lingeringly. She understood the sudden heated look of desire in his silver-grey eyes. He wanted her.
‘I have no wish to return to my room, Melissa.’ His gaze shifted to the empty space beside her before settling on her lovely face. Whenever he thought of his wife his thoughts had a habit of turning to lust. ‘I often think about the couple of times we have made love. I am impatient to repeat what we did.’
The suggestiveness of his husky tone made Melissa’s heartbeat quicken. He couldn’t be so disenchanted by her if he was talking about what would happen when he climbed into bed with her. Unconscious of the vision she presented leaning against the pillows with her hair tumbling over her shoulders in loose disarray, Melissa’s cheeks flamed, but at the same time her heart missed a beat.
‘I fear the nearness of you might soon destroy my good intentions—although if that should happen, I hope you would not object to any actions that follow.’
Melissa’s colour deepened. The quiet emotion in his voice startled her and she averted her eyes. It was a challenge, softly said, and she found herself clasping her hands in front of her in an attempt to keep them from trembling. For the time they had been in London, his intention was to put on a grand front and she had done the same. But how easy it would be to let appearances slip into reality and for her to allow him back into her bed. Even if none of the gentler emotions such as love were present, could they not still have a good marriage?
Aware of her confusion, he took a step back. ‘When you have need of my services, feel free to knock on the connecting door. You will find your husband more than willing to share your bed.’ He chuckled softly. ‘Your cheeks are flushed, Melissa. Are you unwell?’
‘I am perfectly well—although I find myself at a disadvantage. Since I am in bed and you are not, is it your intention to batter my defences and when I am so weakened climb into my bed?’
Laurence smiled inwardly. ‘I believe I have got the measure of you, my lovely wife. I know that your outward demeanour is no indication of how you feel inside. You are a clever woman, granted, but you have not yet learned that resistance, or indeed any kind of opposition, only turns me in the other direction from the one which you might want me to take. The night we met, I remember you telling me it was your birthday.’
Surprised by the question, she glanced at him warily, wondering where the conversation was heading. ‘Yes. My eighteenth.’
‘A naive and virginal eighteen,’ Laurence murmured, his gaze on her still-flushed face.
‘Yes, I was—until I set eyes on a certain gentleman.’
‘And you suddenly thought you were in love.’
She looked at him in helpless consternation. ‘Yes, I did—I was sure of it—even though I was sexually illiterate.’
He laughed softly. ‘I imagine passion is supposed to be the characteristic of most eighteen-year-old girls. Aren’t all young ladies supposed to be in love at that age?’
‘I don’t know. I can only speak for myself.’
An explicable, lazy smile swept over his face. ‘And when I came along and gave you your first lesson, was I a good teacher, do you think?’
A fresh blush stained her smooth cheeks. ‘I don’t know. I had nothing to compare you with.’
‘Of course you hadn’t. My motives weren’t noble—although they were adult and perfectly natural,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t like it that you keep yourself from me, Melissa. The situation cannot continue.’
‘You would force me?’ she retorted crossly.
Laurence threw up his hands impatiently. Her attitude had suddenly turned to defiance and that head-held-high hauteur she flaunted whenever she thought she was in the right. ‘You know I would never do that. But four weeks we have been married. How much longer do you need? I consider myself a married man, not a monk. You are my wife and one day you will—I hope—bear me more children. Resisting the inevitable is like swimming against the tide. Perhaps if you were to itemise your grievances as to why you prefer to sleep alone, we could discuss them and come to an understanding.’
‘I have no grievances to speak of. When we married, you were a virtual stranger to me and I knew very little about marriage—even less about being a wife. All I asked was that you give me time to get used to the situation.’
‘For how long?’ he retorted sarcastically. ‘A month—six?’
Melissa sighed and shook her head slowly. ‘You’re angry, Laurence. I’m sorry if I’ve made you so.’
‘Angry, no—frustrated, yes,’ he uttered, striving to keep his raw hungry need for her at bay. ‘In the beginning I wronged you, true, so wreak your vengeance on me if you must, but then be done with it and let me hear no more about it.’
‘If you think that, then you could not be further from the truth. I do not wreak vengeance on you, Laurence. It has never entered my head. I have no cause to do that.’
‘Then for what reason do you still hold me off?’
She sat up straight. ‘I’m just cautious. I am a woman—my own woman, Laurence—and it’s difficult sharing a man whose mind is filled with thoughts of another woman.’
‘Another woman? And who might that be?’
‘Alice.’
His lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. ‘Careful, Melissa. You are beginning to sound unpleasantly like a jealous wife.’
‘No, Laurence. I am not jealous of a dead woman. But I feel she will always be there—between us.’
He stood and looked at her, seeming bemused by her reply and unable to understand the logic of what she said. ‘If you think that, then you are very much mistaken. It is now nearly three years since Alice died. You must not think of her as an impediment to our marriage. She will not be a shadow who will step upon your heels unless you let her. What do I have to do to convince you that you have a special place here, in this house and in my life?’ On that note he disappeared into his own room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Melissa stared at the closed door, wondering what he was doing on the other side. Suddenly it came to her that she wanted to know, that she wanted to be with him, to sample the delights they could share in his own bed. The intimacy of their last coming together blazed across her mind and she found she had no control over her own thoughts.
Closing her eyes tightly, she was determined to sleep, but she had tasted the sweetness of his seduction—she knew the long, sleek length of his body, the firmness of his thighs pressed to her own and she desperately wanted to experience all that again. With a sense of urgency and without further thought, throwing back the covers she swung her slender legs over the side of the bed and strode towards the door her husband had disappeared through just moments ago.
Pouring himself a large brandy, Laurence stood by the window looking out, hoping to quell the familiar burning need for Melissa which had risen in his loins. It was easy to forget he hadn’t wanted to marry her. What was difficult was controlling his physical reactions to her nearness. An exercise in fortitude, he thought wryly, that he had found exceedingly trying. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand this living arrangement.
She was possessed of a strong determination, was waywardly confident and showed a capacity to think for herself. He admired her sweetness and her honesty and she made him laugh. He stared into the deep purple-blackness of the night, drinking deep of the brandy as he began to marshal his thoughts with a precision taught him by years of doing business with gentlemen and rogues alike. He had a choice to make. Either he could go on living in the past, or give in to the ever-strengthening bond between him and Melissa.
When they had met in the Spring Gardens she had imagined herself in love with him. His lips twisted grimly. He found it hard to believe that anyone could actually love him—not his money, not his power—but him. Melissa was the only woman he knew for whom he could ever imagine risking his heart again or baring his soul. Recalling how quickly she had melted in his arms with such ardour during the times they had made love, he did not have the slightest doubt of his own ability to eventually lure her into his bed again.
A few weeks in his bed, her spirit would be broken and he’d have her purring like a kitten. Yet, he thought, staring down into his glass and unable to suppress the smile that curved his lips, her courage and her spirit was what he admired most about her and God help him if he did anything to destroy that. She was also a natural-born temptress with the smile of an angel. She would never bore him, he was certain of that.
He realised he had come to care for her deeply. His growing need for her made him vulnerable and he could not bear the thought of being apart from her.
To his amazement a gentle tapping on the connecting door intruded into the quiet of the room. With enormous vitality his blood raced through his veins. Crossing to the door and flinging it open, he saw her standing there like a spirit of the night in a long, white, clinging nightgown, her glorious wealth of dark hair falling down her back. She did not move or speak, but gazed at him, her enormous eyes searching his face. Laurence couldn’t believe his good fortune that she had come to him. His heart slammed into his ribs as he stared at her, tracing with his gaze the classically beautiful lines of her face, the brush of lustrous ebony eyelashes, and saw the invitation in her imploring amber eyes. Hope and disbelief collided in his chest.
The grin he gave her was positively wicked as his appreciative gaze slid over her. ‘What took you so long?’ he murmured. Then, taking her hand, he drew her inside and closed the door.
Drawing her further into the room, Laurence could find no words to break the spell. Melissa’s lips parted in a low, wordless moan as his arms went about her, folding her in his embrace.
‘You came,’ he whispered, his lips against her hair.
‘Yes. I thought it would be nice to try out your bed—to see if it’s as comfortable as mine.’
‘I’ll remember to ask your verdict later, my love,’ he murmured.
As he took her face between his hands, his lips touched hers, testing their softness, tasting, caressing, rousing until her arms crept up his chest and around his neck. Her lips quivered and opened beneath his—like a flower, he thought, its petals filled with nectar which she was offering to him. The kiss deepened, becoming one of urgent hunger, drawing from her soft sighs of contentment, of pleasure and anticipation of what was to come. Laurence bent and his arm went behind her knees, lifting her up and carrying her to his bed, placing her on the covers.
Discarding his robe, he lay beside her, drawing her into his arms, claiming her lips once more before trailing a molten path downward to her neck and the peaks of her breasts straining at the fabric of her nightgown. His hands moved over her, persistent, demanding, Melissa tempting his every move with a kiss, until Laurence pulled her beneath him, possessing her with naked abandon, sweeping her along with him every step of the way.
His senses fled, try as he did to prevent them from leaving. His breathing quickened and he was kissing her, loving the feel of her, knowing exactly what he wanted, what she wanted. Her body began to tremble and writhe against his and he heard a moan deep in her throat as he touched her. She clutched him with all of her body, welcoming his hands on her breasts. They were ripe and firm, like sweet plums. His fingers moved in a way which rubbed the nipples until they were hard. Leaning over her, he trailed his hand about her waist, over her thighs and down her legs.
She had the scent of a woman aroused, which called to the masculine in himself. His male body had wilfully taken over from the sensible man he normally was. His lips covered her sweet body, his eyes glittering with barely controlled desire. Their passion became more ardent and they rolled over the bed, wrapped together in the same pursuit as each other. There were moments when she was astride him, her slim legs on either side until he rolled her back and had her lying down. She was squirming in his grasp and the male part of him—the physical, lusting part of him—was delighted, denied of its pleasure for so long as he adjusted her lissom body to accommodate him and herself, positioning her legs apart, ready for him.
Melissa lay beneath him, the full weight of his body pressing hers down into the soft bed. Little moans escaped her throat at the ecstasy he aroused in her. She became helpless with desire, allowing it all to happen, wanting what he was going to do with primitive ferocity. She was vibrant with a bursting depth of passion, alive and trembling. His hands were searching and caressing. The female core of her began to soften with the physical pain of her own need.
For a second a small voice in her head seemed to make her pause and to savour what he was doing to her, but she was acting like a crazy woman. When she felt the sudden assault of his maleness, it was so intensely satisfying and pleasurable that she almost fainted from it. She could feel him inside her, thrusting deeper and deeper, possessive, commanding. Now there was no holding back. Clinging to him as the abandonment went on, she was almost delirious with the exquisite sensations and by the powerful response of her own body. It seemed to have a will of its own.
And then it was over. Laurence gathered her tightly into his arms as his seed spilled into her. Melissa felt a bliss so bright she thought she could not possibly endure it. He touched his lips to hers and whispered against her mouth, ‘Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.’
His words shivered through her senses. They had pleasured one another. Already she ached for it to happen again, already she had discovered the woman in her, the latent desire she had always known deep down was there. Repositioning them both under the covers, Laurence took her into his arms once more. His hand came up to stroke her hair, but he remained conspicuously occupied by his thoughts.
What was he thinking? Melissa wondered. Was he comparing her to Alice? When he remained silent her heart sank. If he sought his pleasures elsewhere with a mistress tucked away, it wouldn’t worry her as much as sharing him with a dead woman—although she suddenly felt a sharp pang which she recognised as jealousy, for she would not think kindly of her husband conferring on another woman the physical intimacies he had shared with her. It was the hold Alice still seemed to have on him, that even though she was no more she still held such sway over his life, that deeply concerned her.
‘Would you be angry if I asked you a question, Laurence?’ she asked quietly, her head resting against his chest and feeling the steady beat of his heart.
He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Not at all—not if it’s important to you.’
‘It is. Did you love Alice very much?’
Laurence’s peaceful, relaxed state quietly vanished. Only Melissa would raise such a subject at such a time. The question was indelicate in the extreme—especially after making love. But then, Melissa had never been one to follow established rules of propriety and convention. Her head was tucked under his chin and he gently placed his lips against her hair, considering her question and how best to answer it.
‘I suppose I did—when I married her—but she wasn’t a woman a man could love easily. She was Eliza’s friend. I met her at Antony and Eliza’s wedding. I suppose I was flattered when I realised she was attracted to me. Unfortunately, my wealth attracted her more.’
‘Did you know this before you married her?’
‘Yes, I did, but I didn’t want to believe it.’
‘Yet you still married her.’
‘I did—for the usual reasons—it was time I married and I was eager to produce an heir. Things changed when Toby was born. She began to demand more of me than I could give.’
His voice held a raw edge of pain that Melissa could feel. ‘I imagine her betrayal hurt your pride.’
‘Yes, but I must shoulder some of the blame for what happened. I left her alone too often and for long periods. That was when she turned back to Mortimer for comfort. Being a close neighbour, he was always sniffing round her when I was absent. I was outraged, but there was nothing I could do. If she had chosen Mortimer merely to repay me for my negligence, to arouse my jealousy, then I think I could have dealt with it better. But she genuinely loved him. I had no idea when I married her how deeply she was involved with him—that there was an understanding that they would marry. I was always too wrapped up in my own affairs to notice and if I heard a rumour too ready to discount it.’
‘Why didn’t she marry Sir Gerald if she loved him?’
‘Because he couldn’t give her what she wanted—financially—whereas I could.’ Looking down at his wife, he placed his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him, seeing the concern she clearly felt for him mirrored in her eyes. ‘Don’t concern yourself with Alice, Melissa. I mourned her death—and that of our son. But that is in the past, where she will remain. Alice seems part of another life now, another existence. My life today is not bound up with memories of her—but Toby will never leave me.’
‘I sincerely hope not. When she is of an age to understand, I would like you to tell Violet about her brother, for her to get to know him through you.’
‘She will, I promise you.’
‘I thought that you still loved Alice and that I compared unfavourably with your memories of her.’
‘Do you think that what we have just done means nothing to me, my foolish one? You are the most delightful lover any man could be fortunate enough to take to bed. Don’t ever underestimate your power over me, Melissa. In fact, you may test it again if you wish—right now.’
Before she could react, he had captured her lips once more. Hurt and angered by his casual assessment of their relationship, wanting to announce that she would prefer to be addressed as his wife and not likened to a lover, she was tempted to shove him away, but to do that would be to incite an argument and she didn’t want to do that since she was already in danger of letting him see how desperately in love with him she was. Her heart yearned for a two-way love, not this one-sided affair, where all the emotion seemed to be on her side and where all his tenderness was simply borne out of a man’s natural lust for a woman.
But she was his wife, his woman, he had made her so in his huge bed. For what was left of the night he showed her what her body was for, what it needed, showing her what pleasures could be had, showing her how to please him and herself, but he did not tell her that he loved her. He did want her—at least physically—his lustful wooing left her in no doubt of that. And the whispered overtures he had plied her with when he had coaxed her to yield to the delights to be found in his bed, of how his introduction to the more erotic rudiments of being a fully-fledged wife had quickened her own hunger once he had given her a taste of what to expect. But was it any different to what he would say and do to any other attractive woman?
He had told her that Alice was in the past, that she belonged to another life. That might be so, but the pain of his first marriage was still with him, she had seen it in his eyes. Over the coming weeks and months she would do her best to help him break free of the past, without grief or guilt eating away inside him. If it took her the rest of her life she would convince him that he had a right to be in love and to someone who would love him in return.
Laurence awoke the next morning in a state of sated bliss. His body was wonderfully content. The rumpled bed was warm and he was extremely comfortable beneath the sheets. Allowing his eyes to open slightly, he saw a silvery light filtering through the curtains and heard birds chirruping happily in early morning song. Remembering the night past, he stretched and breathed deeply, wondering if it had all been a voluptuous dream.
Turning his head on the pillow, he was surprised to find Melissa curled up alongside him, her hair spread in wonderful disarray over the pillows and as naked as the day she was born. Her face was turned towards him, her soft rose-red lips slightly parted and her dark lashes shadowing her cheeks as she slept. Reluctant to move lest he disturbed her, he luxuriated in the simple joy of watching her. A burst of elation exploded inside him when he remembered the beauty of her. As he inhaled her sweet scent, he knew that the memory and the peace of this moment would never leave him.
Gently he reached out and brushed the hair back from her face. He felt her respond and heard her sigh, then her arm reached out and came to rest on his waist, edging closer until their bodies touched. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled.
‘Good morning, Laurence. Have you slept?’
Chuckling softly, he drew her even closer. ‘Very little, as a matter of fact. I was pleasurably distracted for the most part. How about you?’
‘The same. Are you glad I knocked on your door?’
‘Highly delighted. Feel free to knock on my door as often as you like.’
‘I’ll do that. Will you kiss me so that I know I haven’t imagined what happened?’
‘Why? Do you doubt it?’
‘No—not if you kiss me.’
Laurence was only too ready to oblige. Afterwards, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. Struggling to sit up, she looked down at him, her hair covering her bare shoulders and caressing his chest.
‘I think I should return to my own room. Violet will be waking soon—if she hasn’t already.’
Laughing playfully, he drew her back down, reluctant to let her go. ‘Violet has enough nursemaids pandering to her every need. Let them get on with it while my wife panders to me.’
Soon his laughter turned to groans of want as he found her lips and they rolled across the bed. Melissa was only too happy to fall in with his desire and her arms went around him as he kissed her throat, his lips slowly trailing down the length of her body. Her body sang vibrantly and she couldn’t have left if she’d wanted to. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she arched her back when he entered her.
‘My God, Melissa! What are you doing to me?’ he murmured hoarsely, capturing her lips once more in a long, drugging kiss, proceeding to love her with a slow, languorous rhythm. His control eventually slipped away as he surrendered to the glory of this woman, his wife.
When the storm of their lovemaking had passed they lay together, Laurence’s fingers tangled in her hair.
Melissa sighed and melted into her husband’s embrace, unable to believe that she could feel such joyous elation quivering inside. ‘I really must leave you now, Laurence.’ Rolling on to her stomach and leaning on her elbows, she hovered above him, kissing his lips before sliding to the edge of the bed. Slipping her arms into her robe, she got to her feet and glanced at him, a provocative smile curving her lips. ‘I look forward to seeing you at breakfast.’