Read Online Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 by Lynne Connolly - Free Book Online
Authors: Lynne Connolly
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stock and neckcloth as well. A hint of bare flesh showed at his throat, and I yearned to taste it. I welcomed the informality, but I couldn’t take it as a sign that he’d unbent. Not yet.
Nichols was unfastening my hair, taking the pins out and dropping them in the pretty china dish set on the dressing table. Nichols finished her task and reached for the brush. Her hand hovered over the handle for a telling moment. But no quiet command came, no, “You may go, I’ll take over.” Just silence.
She picked up the brush and began to disentangle my curls. Before the advent of Nichols, I had sometimes ended the day leaving my hair in its tangles, just gathering it back in a straggling bunch so I could sleep. No more. Nichols could turn my hair into a shining sheet of chestnut waves. So could Richard. I loved it when he brushed my hair, but he hadn’t done so for a while. Perhaps because more often than not he would begin by using the brush but would end using his hands. And not only on my hair.
We tended to conclude the business in bed, or somewhere near it, too impatient to take the few steps we needed to get there. Richard had introduced me to making love on chairs, standing up and other delicious variations. Heat blossomed between my thighs at the remembrance, and I lifted my gaze to meet his, reflected in the mirror. He blinked, his eyes opened wider and darkened as the pupils spread. He’d recognised my arousal, and whether he liked it or not, it lay between us now as an unspoken challenge.
I hadn’t meant to approach him before we arrived at the palacio , but my instinctive reaction had brought the issues between us into startling focus. I couldn’t ignore it. Neither could he. But I would do my best not to drive him away, to push him into erecting a barrier I had no chance of breaching.
I had seen him do that in the past. Against people who had proved themselves his enemies, but worse, some who had treated me badly. His response had devastated them, and they had found themselves on the outskirts of him and the circle of his influence, which was much larger than some imagined.
I had revelled in his protective attitude in the early days of our marriage. I had needed it then—I knew very few people and stood in awe of persons I was only aware of by reputation. Richard ensured that I entered the centre of society and did it with little disturbance, as if I were entering a place reserved for my use. I was confident enough to find my own way in society, and while I appreciated the shield he and his family provided, I wanted more freedom to make my own choices and stand by them, even if they went wrong.
Until that moment I hadn’t realised how deep our problem lay. But we could get past it. Energy returned to me with that decision. Vigour surged through my body, making me feel stronger than I had in months.
I tore my gaze away from his and gave my attention to Nichols. “Leave us, please. I’ll do that.” I took the brush from her unresisting fingers and caught a flash of approval in her gaze before she left the room. Nichols attended me as a good lady’s maid should, in silence when I wished it, but if I asked her, she would give her opinion on more matters than just the way I should wear the latest gown. She had lived an eventful life, one I found myself drawing from indirectly from time to time. Her advice was worth listening to.
Now she left me to my own devices.
“You wish me to act as your lady’s maid again?”
I rose from my seat and turned to face him before I responded. “There’s no need.” Nichols had already helped me off with my gown and into a light robe. Now I shrugged that off, and I kept his gaze while I unhooked my stays—at the front.
To my relief, a slow smile curled his lips. “Witch. Did you wear the same pair the other day?”
I nodded and smiled back. “Sorry.” Perhaps I could charm him into it, but not by applying any false airs and graces, just by being myself and
Nichols was unfastening my hair, taking the pins out and dropping them in the pretty china dish set on the dressing table. Nichols finished her task and reached for the brush. Her hand hovered over the handle for a telling moment. But no quiet command came, no, “You may go, I’ll take over.” Just silence.
She picked up the brush and began to disentangle my curls. Before the advent of Nichols, I had sometimes ended the day leaving my hair in its tangles, just gathering it back in a straggling bunch so I could sleep. No more. Nichols could turn my hair into a shining sheet of chestnut waves. So could Richard. I loved it when he brushed my hair, but he hadn’t done so for a while. Perhaps because more often than not he would begin by using the brush but would end using his hands. And not only on my hair.
We tended to conclude the business in bed, or somewhere near it, too impatient to take the few steps we needed to get there. Richard had introduced me to making love on chairs, standing up and other delicious variations. Heat blossomed between my thighs at the remembrance, and I lifted my gaze to meet his, reflected in the mirror. He blinked, his eyes opened wider and darkened as the pupils spread. He’d recognised my arousal, and whether he liked it or not, it lay between us now as an unspoken challenge.
I hadn’t meant to approach him before we arrived at the palacio , but my instinctive reaction had brought the issues between us into startling focus. I couldn’t ignore it. Neither could he. But I would do my best not to drive him away, to push him into erecting a barrier I had no chance of breaching.
I had seen him do that in the past. Against people who had proved themselves his enemies, but worse, some who had treated me badly. His response had devastated them, and they had found themselves on the outskirts of him and the circle of his influence, which was much larger than some imagined.
I had revelled in his protective attitude in the early days of our marriage. I had needed it then—I knew very few people and stood in awe of persons I was only aware of by reputation. Richard ensured that I entered the centre of society and did it with little disturbance, as if I were entering a place reserved for my use. I was confident enough to find my own way in society, and while I appreciated the shield he and his family provided, I wanted more freedom to make my own choices and stand by them, even if they went wrong.
Until that moment I hadn’t realised how deep our problem lay. But we could get past it. Energy returned to me with that decision. Vigour surged through my body, making me feel stronger than I had in months.
I tore my gaze away from his and gave my attention to Nichols. “Leave us, please. I’ll do that.” I took the brush from her unresisting fingers and caught a flash of approval in her gaze before she left the room. Nichols attended me as a good lady’s maid should, in silence when I wished it, but if I asked her, she would give her opinion on more matters than just the way I should wear the latest gown. She had lived an eventful life, one I found myself drawing from indirectly from time to time. Her advice was worth listening to.
Now she left me to my own devices.
“You wish me to act as your lady’s maid again?”
I rose from my seat and turned to face him before I responded. “There’s no need.” Nichols had already helped me off with my gown and into a light robe. Now I shrugged that off, and I kept his gaze while I unhooked my stays—at the front.
To my relief, a slow smile curled his lips. “Witch. Did you wear the same pair the other day?”
I nodded and smiled back. “Sorry.” Perhaps I could charm him into it, but not by applying any false airs and graces, just by being myself and
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