At the Earl's Convenience

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Authors: Maggi Andersen
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I?”
    He had to admit he enjoyed their evenings spent playing card games and chess. So far, he’d managed to beat her at both, but it was growing more difficult. She was a quick learner. He laughed at her, for it clearly made her annoyed to lose. She vowed that one night she would win. And he knew she would.
    “Would you like to lie beside me while you read? You must be tired.”
    She gave him a slow smile. Was there a hint of desire in her eyes? There was something else too, blast it. Determination to thwart him. He knew he could persuade her, but his performance would be wanting. That would not do. He was determined to introduce her to the delights of lovemaking when he was fully restored to health.
    ****
    “I am quite comfortable in this chair, but thank you.”
    Devereux’s look heated her body right down to her nether regions. She turned the page and continued reading, but her mind dwelt on the day soon coming when they would make love. She wriggled in the chair.
    “You don’t look entirely comfortable, Selina,” he said with his direct blue stare. “I suspect you want to consummate this marriage as much as I do.”
    “All the better to distract ourselves with other pursuits.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Then you admit it?”
    “I refuse to continue this conversation. It gets us nowhere. Shall I leave you to rest or continue reading Macbeth ?”
    He sighed. “Read on. I could do with one of the witches’ potions right now.”
    “For what purpose?” she asked with a giggle.
    “To heal my body, slay my enemies, and to subdue you,” he quipped.
    With a laugh, Selina rose to smooth his pillows. “You are getting better every day. As long as you don’t fret yourself into a relapse.” She settled back into the chair. “I wish we had news of the war,” she said, hoping to change the conversation.
    “I daresay we’ll hear before long,” he said noncommittally.
    She closed the book. “I think we’ve had enough of Shakespeare.”
    “Will you sing to me?”
    “What shall I sing?”
    “I don’t care. Anything.”
    Selina, aware that her voice wasn’t her best asset, launched into one of her favorite songs, “Greensleeves.”
    He closed his eyes. “That’s a song about a woman of pleasure, you know,” he murmured, interrupting her.
    “What? It isn’t!”
    “The green gown is a reference to the grass stains on the woman’s dress from engaging in lovemaking outdoors.”
    “That’s outrageous. Why Chaucer believed green to be the color of lightness in love. ‘Greensleeves is my delight.’”
    “Yes, there’s that.” A smiled pulled at his lips, but he didn’t open his eyes.
    “It makes me wonder why you wish to dress me in green, Devereux.”
    “You’re my delight,” he said, drifting off.
    He began to snore softly.
    “I wish you meant that, my love,” she whispered.
    She learned over him and smoothed back a lock of hair from his brow. Thick, dusky lashes brushed his cheeks. He frowned and murmured something indecipherable. Were his dreams still troubled? She resisted kissing him, but the impulse was so strong she took herself off out of the room.

    As was now their habit, Selina joined Devereux in his bedchamber for breakfast at the table by the window. He was pleased when he heard his tenants’ roofs had been rethatched and that they now had a good supply of coal for winter. While she refilled his cup, she remembered she hadn’t told the gamekeeper about the stranger in the wood. It had completely left her mind.
    She handed him his cup and saucer. “In the fuss of your arrival, I completely forgot! There was someone in the woods the day you arrived. I should have told the gamekeeper, but he hasn’t mentioned any sign of poachers.”
    Devereux’s cup clattered into the saucer. His hands clenched the arms of his chair, knuckles white. “Did you see who it was?”
    She eyed him carefully. “No, they ran deeper into the woods. I couldn’t follow on horseback.”
    He glowered at

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