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Emily followed Edgar into the room—she was his wife now and no longer needed to hide the fact that they spent their nights together.
     
    “Lord Callander won’t be needin’ yer services tonight, Weston. Thank you.”
     
    The manservant stuck his nose up in the air and turned to Edgar, for confirmation Emily supposed. “Yes, Weston, that will be all for tonight. My wife can assist me.”
     
    For a moment, Weston gaped at them. Then he said, “Very well, my lord.”
     
    After he was gone, Emily said, “I dinna think he cares for me overmuch.”
     
    “Bah,” Edgar replied, “he’ll come around. He just isn’t used to me having a woman. As I told you, it has been awhile.” Edgar sat down on the side of the bed took Emily’s hand, bringing her to stand between his legs. He reached up and caressed her neck, coaxing her face down close to his. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I care for you very, very much.”
     
    Emily smiled and placed her forehead against his. “And I care for you very, very much. But there is one problem.”
     
    Edgar drew back. Oh God, no, he thought. Have I made a mistake? Is she going to be like all the rest of them—now that she has my name and wealth, will she reject me as a man?
     
    But before he could question her, Emily continued, “We both have too many clothes on.”
     
    Edgar wondered if she could hear the relief in his laughter. “Well, fortunately,” he said, “that is a problem easily remedied.” He slipped the sleeves of her gown off her shoulders and kissed the swell of her breasts above her corset. “Dear God, Emily, your skin is like silk.” Her only answer was a deep sigh. His cock began to swell and ache for her. “Turn around.”
     
    She did as he commanded. He pulled impatiently at the laces of her gown and slid her bodice the rest of the way off. He almost ripped the strings on her corset to get to the smooth flesh underneath. With that removed he encountered her chemise. And he hadn’t even gotten to her lower body yet. He growled and said, “You most definitely have too many clothes on. I had forgotten that women wear so many layers.” With that he tore the thin cotton shift in two.
     
    Emily gasped. “Edgar, my chemise.”
     
    “I’ll buy you a hundred more, a thousand more, for I cannot promise I won’t be ripping more of them off you in the future.”
     
    Her laugh was cut short when he reached around to caress her breasts. Her nipples were already hard as tiny stones, the areolas pebbled. Edgar rested his head against her back and reached down to adjust his cock, which now pressed tightly against the buttons of his trousers. Then he untied her overskirt and hoops, tossing them as far across the room as he could in his eagerness to get her naked.
     
    “God in heaven, woman, a man could come in his pants before he even gets to your skin!”
     
    Emily giggled. She tore her shift the rest of the way down and let it fall to the floor. She stood with her back still toward him, clad only in her stockings and garters. “Lord,” Edgar said softly, “what a lovely sight.” He brought her closer to him and caressed her buttocks.
     
    Emily felt the slight roughness of his beard as he rubbed his cheeks against her. In the next moment, he slid his hand between her legs and his fingers probed her swollen, moist womanhood. The sensation of him caressing her from front and behind was so overwhelming, Emily thought her legs would give out. He must have sensed this for he wrapped his other arm around her waist. He continued probing and stroking her until he brought her to a shattering climax and she did drop to her knees. She rested her head against his legs, eyes closed, trying to catch her breath.
     
    “Are you all right, Emily?” Edgar asked. She heard the smile in his voice.
     
    “No, ye’ve killed me again with pleasure. La petite mort, aye?”
     
    He laughed out loud then. “Indeed, yes, the little death.”
     
    She looked up at him.