With a torrent of language that she’d never thought to hear in the refined John Dalkington-Smythe, he sank to his knees. He drew her down to sit on his lap, their bodies still joined. With shaking hands he pulled her close against his half-clothed body, holding her safe and still while they recovered from the cataclysm that had consumed them.

Gentle now, in contrast with the violence of his taking a few moments before, he cradled her bare breast, stroked it, gently urged her nipple to harden. His breath sounded harsh in her ear, heat blasting past it. He kissed the rim, then lifted her away. “Get into bed,” he said. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

He did so, and she went gratefully into his arms, snuggling close.

She told herself she felt so needful of the contact because she was naked and the sheets cold, while he radiated heat that she soaked up with a sigh of happiness. Moments like these had come too rarely in her life, simple unadorned pleasure.

“We should make an afternoon nap a regular event.” He kissed the top of her head, then when she lifted her chin to gaze at him, her lips. “You are wonderful. I find it hard to believe you’ve not had a more adventurous love life.” He chuckled at her complacent smile. “Do you know how many women would slap me for saying that?”

“Why? It’s a compliment. You think I’m adventurous?”

He smiled, and something more than physical warmth spread through her, concentrating on his face, his eyes, relaxed in a rare unguarded moment. Like her, he was always playing, always covering what he truly felt. Once for the sake of the troops but now for the family, all it represented and the people who depended on it for their living.

In this room only they existed, John and Faith. “So audacious,”

he said, and he pressed his lips to her in a longer caress. “When you’re here, life doesn’t seem so terrible.”

“Life isn’t terrible.” She snuggled closer, stretching her leg over both of his, uncaring that the movement brought her sex hard against his thigh. It wasn’t as if she had anything to hide after what they’d just done.

“Not when you express it that way.” He curled one arm around her shoulders, holding her firmly and he used the other to stroke her, running down her back until she stretched, catlike. “I could learn to enjoy it. Do you want to sleep?”

“I don’t care. I’m not an invalid.”

“You’re finding your new position a strain, aren’t you?”

She tried to scoff, but knew he’d realise she wasn’t telling the truth. “Aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, but I’m used to this kind of life, at least in short bursts. I had other plans.”

“The army.”

“As you say. After my parents died, I had nothing to keep me here. I’d always longed to become a soldier.” He huffed a half-laugh.

“Of course it proved nothing like I’d expected.”

“Better?”

“Different.” He kissed the tip of her nose and she slid her hand over his chest. He had little chest hair, enough to stimulate, not enough to deter her, for she had seen men as hairy as a bear before.

She enjoyed the smattering of dark hairs that demonstrated his masculinity. As if he needed to. She wanted to touch him lower, didn’t know if she should. The only other man she’d shared her body with preferred to remain separate after he’d taken her. She tried hard not to compare them, but sometimes she couldn’t stop herself.

John ensured she reached satisfaction too. While her previous husband—her late husband—had not always ensured she was as content as he with the marital act, the reason was probably because he didn’t know what she should or should not feel and didn’t have the imagination to try, or to ask. Or he was too tired. All too often exhaustion took them, so all they had the strength to do was roll into bed—if they were lucky and could commandeer one.

“The army taught me I could live independent of anyone,” he said. “Perhaps I became too self-sufficient. Now a new life has begun, and I have to accept the inevitable.”

“As do I.”

His mouth flattened. “I know about the bag, the one you keep packed.” She flinched, but said nothing. “I understand it too. I remember never taking out more than I needed from my baggage in case we had to move on in a hurry. Never knowing where we would be from one week to the next. Is that it, Faith, or are you truly planning to leave?”

She thought and he gave her the time she needed to muster her ponderings. “You’re better off without me in the long run. I don’t know if I can give you children.” She had never hidden from the truth, or she had tried hard not to.

“Did you ever think it might be his fault?”

“I had no way of knowing.” She stopped, aware she’d given away too much by the quaver in her voice. Too late now, but she stared at his chest while she told him, too affected to meet his gaze. “He didn’t remain faithful to me. I couldn’t expect it. Why should I?

Infidelity was part of army life, the women and intimate relations a way of passing the time and cheap. One of those casual liaisons had a result.”

“I don’t know if the child belonged to him and neither do you,”

he said, shocking her into meeting his gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw that indeed, he did. “I wanted to remind him of his duty by you, but it was none of my concern. It might have looked too particular. I satisfied myself that ensuring the woman had nothing she could pass on to you.”

“A disease you mean?” A smile touched her lips when she saw his hesitation. “You don’t have to hide that from me. I ceased to be a sheltered vicar’s daughter as soon as I entered my first army camp.

But I didn’t know that.” She paused, watching him. “Thank you.

That aspect did worry me. My husband wasn’t promiscuous, but I’m aware he took a woman or two.”

He stopped his rhythmic stroking and touched her chin, making her keep her attention on his face. “I never took more than one woman at a time. That is, I only ever had one woman in keeping. I didn’t have many. One in Brussels, one in Spain. Both long gone.”

“I know about the one in Spain. At least, I saw her leaving your tent one morning.” The shock when she’d seen it had taken her completely by surprise. “I shouldn’t have cared.”

“But you did.” He smiled. “I like that, Faith. I don’t intend to stray now I’m married.”

“You’re not married.”

“I am. To you.” He kissed her, touched his tongue to her lips before he withdrew. “Which is why I want to know if you mean to run.”

She might have known he’d never allow her to get away with one answer. “I did. I might. If it becomes untenable, if the rumours grow too loud, then you might be better blaming me for everything and claiming I fooled you along with everyone else.”

He leaned up on one elbow, his face hard with emotion, anger flashing in his stare. Propping his elbows either side of her, he took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. “What is it, Faith? You’re no coward. I’ve watched you confront men twice your size and demand something of them. You never balked at doing your duty, or in facing the unpleasant facts of life. So why not now? Why this talk of leaving? That’s running away, retreating.

You’d do that?”

She swallowed. “For you, yes. You would deal better with someone younger, more acceptable to society. A fertile, beautiful woman...” Her voice tailed off as he continued to watch her. “I’m afraid.” He’d forced her to confront the truth. “The way those women stared at me today, and the notion that they’ll do it and worse. The gossip rags, the newspapers, they’ll be discussing me.”

“They will,” he said calmly. “But I’ll stay by your side. They’ll talk about me, too. They already call me an upstart, a crude soldier.

Do you think I’m crude, Faith?”

The remembrance of what he’d done with her not long ago brought the heat to her cheeks. “Only in the best way.”

His gaze softened and she felt the unmistakeable signs of his arousal. “I can’t do it alone, or rather I don’t want to. I can see no point.” He shook her a little. “I need you with me. You’re the only person who understands. We saw the same things, felt the same emotions. I can’t face this stultifying society without you. I don’t want to. If you leave, I might well retire to the country and make the best of what I have.” His mouth straightened, but she knew not because of her, at least not this time. “You should know all of it.

You have the right. I’ve been studying the books, those I have, and I’m not happy with what I’m reading. They would serve for anyone not as well acquainted with business as I am, but the title and the estates have been running at a loss. They shouldn’t have. The earldom owns valuable land, rich in minerals, lush and fertile.

There’s no reason for it.”

Shocked, she whispered, “Why would that happen?”

“Bad management, or worse. I need to take a personal interest.

The last earl didn’t appear to have a good head for business.”

“You knew him well?”

“Barely. I met him occasionally when as a boy, and once or twice in London when I came back on leave.” He sighed. “I travelled half way across the ocean with him. I knew his darkest secret. Not enough to understand him in reality.” He paused. “They liked me, the earl and his brother.”

She hadn’t realised. She’d thought both the brothers hadn’t known of his continued existence until recently. “Do you think someone has been manipulating the books?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have enough to go on. You must not tell anyone I said this, because I want them to believe I know little about estate management. One business is much like another at its heart and I can read a set of accounts much better than any of them know. Acting the fool can often garner far more information than aloofness.” His anger dissipating, he kissed her again, and this time the kiss lasted longer. “Promise me one thing, you won’t go without telling me first.” He released her, rolled off her, leaned over her, resting on one elbow. “We should marry in truth.”