Free The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) by Kae Elle Wheeler Page B

when she stirred against him.
    Her eyes widened in a surprise that touched him, eyes quickly dropping to the hand that trapped hers. “How are you feeling?” she asked. In a discreet maneuver she tried reclaiming possession of her hand.
    He bit back a smile at the attempt. “I believe I shall live, after all.” Her face, flushed with sleep, had him rethinking his strategy of a quick departure. Perhaps he could kiss her into a gentle submission. Surely they weren’t in that much of a hurry? Might they spare two…even three…hours?
    A fresh scent of soap had desire surging through him. All rational thought fled. He tugged her atop his body. Oui, he could spare four hours if need be. His lips grazed her forehead.
    “W-what are you about, sir? You’ve been quite ill.”
    “I seem to be much better now,” he murmured. “Due to your ministrations, I’m sure.”
    A soft mewling cry erupted from her. Oh, he liked that. His lips found hers. He braced her body, straddled, over his. His tongue teased her mouth apart. ’Twas all the invitation he needed. With soft strokes he suckled, possessed, indulged in the sweet offerings. He cupped one hand on her nape, the other pushing aside the shoulder of her night rail. Skin as soft as silk tempted him beyond measure. He dragged his lips from hers to touch the contours of her collarbone.
    Mon Dieu! How had he made it past two days married to such an allurement?
    “My lord, are you certain you are well enough for such activity?”
    “Just try and stop me, my lady,” he growled against her neck. Her slight body quivered against him. Pounding throbbed in his head.
    “Someone’s knocking, my lord…”
    “What?” he whispered against her ear. She tasted delicious, and he was ravenous.
    “The door,” she squeaked, somewhat adorably breathless.
    “The door?” he repeated. What was it about the door? She made it sound incredibly sensuous.
    Kendra shoved against his chest with flattened palms, but he held fast.
    “We must answer.” She broke away, panting. “The door.”
    Joseph blinked as her words sunk in. The door . Someone was knocking on the door. Soundly.
    He groaned. “I suppose someone should answer it, lest they think we did ourselves in,” he said against her now puffy lips.
    “I’m afraid so,” she whispered. “I fear they were quite concerned for you last evening.”
    “ Oui, oui . By all means, see to the blasted door. Rest assured, madam wife, we are not finished here,” he growled, releasing her, however reluctantly.

Chapter Ten
    The spectacular weather was an anomaly, Kendra knew. She refused to worry that not every hair was in place, with the gentle breeze stirring about. Stretches of green sprawling hills, dotted with livestock, did much to calm the tumultuous thoughts of Joseph’s incandescent touches earlier that morning.
    From her peripheral vision, it was clear he’d recovered from his aberrant attack of that mysterious illness. The cheerful anecdotes he dished out served well in passing the long hours on the road. His questions appeared genuine, but she couldn’t quite stave off the niggles of doubt swirling through her mind.
    “…and you believe that same?” he asked.
    Same? Lord, she’d missed every word. “Well, of course,” she said slowly.
    “Mmm. That the Egyptians wore cosmetics for their healing powers? And, yet you don’t appear to don them yourself.”
    She scowled. “I once discovered my governess’s hidden rouge. Papa nearly locked me in the nursery when he saw those two red spots on my cheeks.” She looked out over the horizon, inhaling the fresh summer air. “Actually, their cosmetics were originally used as protection from the sun rather than as adornment. Or for hiding scars. Some women use them for that today.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think they smell bad.”
    “You certainly don’t require enhancements,” he said. The wolfish grin he tossed out so casually flamed her cheeks to such a warmth she was