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Authors: Manda Collins
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on.”
Looking up into her eyes, Tony began to draw up her bodice to cover her exquisite breasts. “Now, love, you know your Mama would come looking for us sooner or later. If it’s all the same to you I’d prefer to live somewhere with a sturdy lock and a comfortable bed.”
“I thought you loved our outdoor trysts,” Portia pouted. As she stood and began to tidy her gown and hair, Tony began to button his breeches.
“My dear, I know you will not believe it, but I am no longer the virile young buck you married. I’m afraid that my aging person can only endure one or two nights a year of lovemaking on a hard stone bench. Before long, I fear you will be forced to push me around in a Bath chair and rest my gouty feet on plump cushions.”
“Good lord,” Portia gasped in mock horror. “If you are decrepit what hope do I have? I shall purchase an ear trumpet first thing tomorrow morning so that you need not shout sweet nothings into my ear.”
“How old are you exactly, Lady Leighton?” Tony asked, drawing her into his arms again for one last kiss before they returned to their box.
“It is never the thing to force a lady to admit her true age,” she scolded, kissing him on the nose. “But, in answer to your question,” she laughed. “I will tell you when our child is born.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s no answer! I have no way of knowing when that will be. You, madam, are a tease.”
But Portia’s smile held the mysterious mischief women had been perfecting on for generations before. “I shouldn’t think you will have to wait too terribly long,” she said kissing his chin. “Only eight months or so, I should think.”
His mouth, which had been kissing the corner of hers, paused.
Darkly lashed green eyes met brown.
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as a woman can be about such things,” she returned, smiling at him in that way that had been dear to him since he’d first fallen in love with her all those years ago.
Tony placed a hand over her still only slightly rounded belly.
“This calls for fireworks,” he said when he had kissed her, and kissed her. And just for good measure, kissed her again.
“Where on earth will we find fireworks at this time of night?” Portia asked with a grin. “I know! There is a lovely pleasure garden I know called Vauxhall…”
“Hmmm. Do they have a dark walk?”
“And fireworks,” she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Though I think I prefer it when we make our own”
“Me too,” Tony whispered against her hair. “Me too.”
THE END
About the Author
Manda Collins spent her teen years wishing she'd been born a couple of centuries earlier, preferably in the English countryside. Time travel being what it is, she resigned herself to life with electricity and indoor plumbing, and read lots of books. An affinity for books led to a graduate degree in English, followed by another in Librarianship. A native of coastal Alabama, Manda lives in the house her mother grew up in with three cats, sometimes a dog, sometimes her sister, and more books than strictly necessary.
Follow Manda on her webpage http://www.mandacollins
On Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/mandacollinsauthor
On Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/MandaCollins
To learn more about Manda and to keep
up to date with her release dates, sign up for her newsletter .
Looking up into her eyes, Tony began to draw up her bodice to cover her exquisite breasts. “Now, love, you know your Mama would come looking for us sooner or later. If it’s all the same to you I’d prefer to live somewhere with a sturdy lock and a comfortable bed.”
“I thought you loved our outdoor trysts,” Portia pouted. As she stood and began to tidy her gown and hair, Tony began to button his breeches.
“My dear, I know you will not believe it, but I am no longer the virile young buck you married. I’m afraid that my aging person can only endure one or two nights a year of lovemaking on a hard stone bench. Before long, I fear you will be forced to push me around in a Bath chair and rest my gouty feet on plump cushions.”
“Good lord,” Portia gasped in mock horror. “If you are decrepit what hope do I have? I shall purchase an ear trumpet first thing tomorrow morning so that you need not shout sweet nothings into my ear.”
“How old are you exactly, Lady Leighton?” Tony asked, drawing her into his arms again for one last kiss before they returned to their box.
“It is never the thing to force a lady to admit her true age,” she scolded, kissing him on the nose. “But, in answer to your question,” she laughed. “I will tell you when our child is born.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s no answer! I have no way of knowing when that will be. You, madam, are a tease.”
But Portia’s smile held the mysterious mischief women had been perfecting on for generations before. “I shouldn’t think you will have to wait too terribly long,” she said kissing his chin. “Only eight months or so, I should think.”
His mouth, which had been kissing the corner of hers, paused.
Darkly lashed green eyes met brown.
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as a woman can be about such things,” she returned, smiling at him in that way that had been dear to him since he’d first fallen in love with her all those years ago.
Tony placed a hand over her still only slightly rounded belly.
“This calls for fireworks,” he said when he had kissed her, and kissed her. And just for good measure, kissed her again.
“Where on earth will we find fireworks at this time of night?” Portia asked with a grin. “I know! There is a lovely pleasure garden I know called Vauxhall…”
“Hmmm. Do they have a dark walk?”
“And fireworks,” she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Though I think I prefer it when we make our own”
“Me too,” Tony whispered against her hair. “Me too.”
THE END
About the Author
Manda Collins spent her teen years wishing she'd been born a couple of centuries earlier, preferably in the English countryside. Time travel being what it is, she resigned herself to life with electricity and indoor plumbing, and read lots of books. An affinity for books led to a graduate degree in English, followed by another in Librarianship. A native of coastal Alabama, Manda lives in the house her mother grew up in with three cats, sometimes a dog, sometimes her sister, and more books than strictly necessary.
Follow Manda on her webpage http://www.mandacollins
On Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/mandacollinsauthor
On Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/MandaCollins
To learn more about Manda and to keep
up to date with her release dates, sign up for her newsletter .
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