Page 71 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

“Oh, I have them. Never fear.”

“Won’t you need to act on them?”

Nigel heaved a little sigh. “Well, here’s the thing about mymanly urges,”he said. “Because I am aman,I am notruledby my urges. I am capable of controlling myself.” Leaning forward, he planted another kiss on her face, this time against her cheek. “The only thing I want is to love you. To please you. To see you smile and laugh and gasp and maybe to hear that lovely voice of yours cry out my name in a moment of complete abandon. Everything else will come. In time. When we arebothready.”

Despite her best efforts, Luna felt that telltale prickling in her eyes again. She sniffled, and turned her face into his hand, trying to hide. But he saw anyway. “More tears, my dear?” he said, gently wiping them with his thumb.

“What if . . .” She grabbed his hand, pressing it harder to her cheek as she gazed up at him. “What if today is all we have?”

She didn’t want to speak the words. But the fear was there. And it was very, very real. They were already living on borrowed time. They probably shouldn’t have stayed in one place as long as they had, and when the aunties returned tomorrow morning, they needed to be gone already. She didn’t know where theywould go and, something told her, it wouldn’t matter. Her doom was at hand.

“What if this is the only chance we’re given?” she whispered. “One day of marriage. One day of love.”

Nigel cupped her face with both hands and leaned his forehead against hers. “Even if that were true, I would want to spend the whole day loving you. Worshipping your body with mine.”

He kissed her then. Softly, sweetly. And when it grew a little fiercer, Luna found herself responding in kind. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he bent her over, and she fully gave herself over to the passion of his embrace, fears forgotten in a surge of desperate hunger.

Which was right when the kettle started screaming from the stove.

“Damn!” Nigel growled, still bent over her, his arms clasping and supportive. He looked down into her face, pale hair flopped over his forehead. “A spot of tea, my dear?” he asked through panting lips.

Luna shook her head drunkenly. “I’m not thirsty anymore.”

Grinning, he stretched out his arm, shifted the kettle off the stove, then pulled her close and kissed her again.

“Gods, how many buttons are on this thing?”

“If you’re tired, Mr. Grimm, you may take a break. I can always pop the kettle back on and—”

“No, no! One thing about the man you’ve married, Miss Talbot—he is not one to give up easily!”

“Miss Talbot?”

“Oh. Right.Mrs. Grimm.”

“You know, I do like the sound of that! How many more buttons have you got to go?”

“GODS!”

“There! That’s the last of it.”

“How many layers was that? The bodice, three petticoats, the corset cover, the corset, the stockings—"

“Too many! Now come here.”

“Wait! Don’t I get to remove a few more of your layers first? Not that you don’t make that ruffly shirt work for you, especially without the jacket and cravat, but I still think I should—Oooh!”

“We’ll get to it later.”

“But don’t you need a little breather now? Surely after all that exertion you must be a bit—mmmmmph!”

“Gods, your lips taste like honeysuckle.”

“Well, yours taste like dark taeral and cinnamon.”

“And your hair smells like vanilla.”

“Yours smells like soap.”