“
A few hours later, Jane came out of her boudoir to find her husband in his dressing gown, stretched out across the bed reading the newspaper and idly petting their spaniel Little Archer, a pup from Mrs. Patch’s brood.
Seizing the moment, Little Archer leapt off the bed and into her dressing room, where he could chew up slippers to his heart’s content. Dom, however, didn’t even look up as she entered.
“They’re calling this the most elegant coronation in history.” He snorted. “I noticed there’s no mention of its being the most interminable.”
“Dom,” she purred as she closed the dog into the dressing room for the moment.
“All that pomp and circumstance is so tedious.” Still reading, he turned the page of the newspaper. “Ravenswood told me that King William is determined to make sure that parliamentary reform is enacted.”
She walked languidly forward. “Dom.”
He snapped the paper to straighten it. “It’s about bloody time. I should think--”
“Dom!” she practically shouted.
“Hmm?” He glanced up, then frowned. “Why are you wearing your coronation robe?”
“I was cold,” she said with a teasing smile. She let the robe fall open. “Since I have nothing on underneath.”
Dom stared, then gulped. Unsurprisingly, his staff jerked instantly to attention. “If you’re trying to torture me,” he said hoarsely, “you’re doing a good job of it.”
She sashayed toward the bed, letting the velvet and ermine robe swing about her. “No torture intended.” She put one knee on the bed. “Dr. Worth said I may resume relations with my husband whenever I am ready.”
He blinked, then rose to his knees and seized her about the waist. “May I assume that you’re ready?” he rasped as he brushed a kiss to her cheek.
“You have no idea.” She met his mouth with hers.
They kissed a long moment, a hot, heavenly kiss that reminded her of how very talented her husband was at this aspect of marriage. She untied his dressing gown and shoved it off his shoulders. He had just finished tearing off his drawers when she shoved him down onto the bed.
His eyes lit up as she hovered over him. “Ah, so it’s to be like that, my wicked little seductress?”
“Oh, yes.” She grinned at him. “I do so enjoy having a viscount fall before me.”
She started to remove her robe, but he stayed her with his hand. “Don’t.” He raked her with a heated glance. “Next session of parliament, I’ll endure the boredom of the endless speeches by imagining you seducing me in all your pomp and circumstance.”
“My pomp is nothing to yours, my love,” she murmured as she caught his rampant flesh in her hand. “Yours is quite…er…pompous.”
“That’s what happens if the viscount falls.” He thrust against her hand. “His pomp always rises.”
And as she laughed, they created a pomp and circumstance all their own.
”
”