In Compromise with the Earl by Ava MacAdams

Chapter Twenty

Stepping into his mother’s drawing room at her summons gave Oswald another dollop of irritation to what already rested on his chest. First, Leo had interrupted them and now his mother was calling him to undoubtedly grouse about Aphrodite being there.

Ostensibly, he knew that this meeting was inevitable, and he hated knowing how it would end—no one was going to be happy. He entered the room to see her sitting placidly but her lips were thinned, and her brows knitted tightly together.

“Mother?” he asked. “You asked for me?”

“All this time I thought you were playing a cruel jest on me,” Henrietta said. “But seeing that woman in my Hall made it clear that you were not.”

“First, call Aphrodite my wife and address her thusly,” he said calmly, even while embers of anger simmered in his chest. “Second, she is going to live here as we are married.”

“You have made a mockery of yourself by marrying her,” she said.

“More than I already am?” he asked. “Mother, have you ever considered that I would prefer not to marry a lady who is only going to be a shadow for me?”

“But a lady who comes from a home of ill-repute?” the Dowager asked. “What sense is that?”

“Because I need happiness and light after all the darkness my life was months before,” Oswald snapped. “Aphrodite is that light, believe it or not and while I hope you will agree one day, I am prepared to accept if you will not. But I will not accept you abusing her in anyway.”

“She is not good for you,” Henrietta said. “One day her colors will show.”

Rubbing his forehead, Oswald said, “I cannot follow your logic, Mother. Claire was secretive and manipulative, making you believe that she was an angel in disguise, and you loved her, only to find that she was anything but. Now, my wife’s life is transparent, and you hate her? What are you afraid of?”

“That you are walking yourself into another trap and a docile—”

“Is my worst nightmare,” Oswald snapped. “Claire was docile, submissive and meek but she was a dagger in my back. Why would I want more of that?”

“You are not thinking straight,” she said.

“No,” his tone dropped to sympathy. “You are the one who is blind. Aphrodite might be different from what you consider ladylike but while she is different, she is still every bit a lady and I love her. She won’t betray me like Claire did and you need to bypass your fear and see what is plain before your face. Now, if that is all, please excuse me.”

He left the room unhappy that he had upset her, but she had to understand, he was not a boy anymore and he knew what he wanted…and that was Aphrodite.

As he entered his room, he came across a pacing Aphrodite. Instead of asking her why she was upset, he closed the door, went to her side and wrapped her in his arms.

“I know, Sweetling, I know,” he kissed her temple. “It is going to take a while, but she will come around.”

Resting her head so her ear rested right on his heart, she sighed, “I know but when?”

“I don’t know, but despite that, I am not going to let you bear the brunt of her displeasure,” he replied. “Let us take a bath, and I’ll send for dinner.”

* * *

The flickering light of the candle sconces lit the bathing chamber in a warm golden glow. The copper tub was filled with jasmine-scented water and Aphrodite smiled at the warm embers under the tub.

Undoing the peach silk robe, she stepped into the water and she sank in the comforting embrace of the hot water that felt heavenly against her skin. The smell of lavender curled with the steam into her nose and her body began to grow lax. Reaching for the soap, she lathered her hair and washed it, digging her hands into her scalp.

“Let me,” Oswald said while he perched his hip on the edge of the tub and slipped his hands into her hair. His rough hands were tender while rubbing her scalp and she nearly moaned at his touch.

He braced the back of her neck while using a pitcher to rinse and when she smoothed back her wet hair, feeling more refreshed than she could remember, Oswald did away with his black robe and stepped into the tub with her.

Resting between his legs and on his chest, she smiled contentedly. “You have wonderful hands.”

“Hm,” he said while he reached for a sponge and drew it languidly along her arm. The sponge grazed her erect nipple and she let out a small moan. She closed her eyes while feeling his length thicken behind her. She shivered at the memory of how it had felt inside of her, how masterfully he had turned her inside out and how forcefully she had shattered under his touch.

Dropping the sponge, Oswald brushed aside her hair and kissed just under her ear and then down her neck. As he continued to plant light kisses along her neck and shoulders, he slipped both hands under her arms and cupped her breast. Aphrodite let out a shaky breath as she felt her nipples harden beneath his palms. She threw her head back and grabbed at his thigh while arousal bit deep into her belly. He massaged her breast while kissing her wet skin.

His right hand left her breast and pressed on her belly, before it slipped between her legs “My God, you’re slick,” he remarked, sliding his fingers along her mound.

She moaned as he inserted a finger into her, spiking want and need up her spine while he rubbed the swollen nub nestled between her folds. He pinched the nub playfully before withdrawing his hands.

“Not here,” he kissed her ear. “I want you in my bed.”

Instead of joining them, he went on to wash them as if he was oblivious to the throbbing proof of his arousal that was between them. He teased her, brushed her breast, kissed her wet skin, trailed his fingertips over the sensitive skin of her sides, stroking the fire inside her into a fever pitch.

“Oswald,” she panted. “Take me to bed—now.”

“Patience,” he whispered in her ear before nibbling on it. His hands smoothed over her body once more before cupping her aching breasts and sucked a mark into her shoulder. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“You’re evil,” she turned her head to the left when his lips made heated contact there.

Shuddering under his ministrations, she reached a hand between them to grasp his turgid length when he batted her hand away. “No.”

A wry, forced laugh left her. “I’ll be a candidate for Bedlam after you’re done with me.”

“Arousal is a fire,” he kissed he jaw. “Sometimes its best while raging, other times it best when its smoldering. I’ll show you,” he said.

The dulcet tones in his voice made her shiver; God knew she loved it when his voice deepened like that. Aphrodite loved it even more when he lifted her into his arms as if she was thistledown and carried her out the bath.

Grasping a towel, he pattered them dry then with another lift, carried her into the chamber and rested her onto the bed. With one knee on the bed, she reached out and touched the chiseled planes of his chest, which were sprinkled with the short hairs she loved to touch.

Though she’d had close to a month to get used to his raw masculinity, her breath still caught at the sight of him. Strength and raw beauty infused his every aspect. She loved the rippling of his muscles when she touched him and loved more the smooth flex of his back when he joined them.

She skimmed her hands over his wide and heavy shoulders as he slitted himself between her legs and she drew her palms over the hard planes of his ridged torso against her soft curves as he made love to her.

The touch of his chest to her breasts and his hand slipped under her knee to cock in over his hip. Her eyes glazed over as he captured her breast in his mouth and entered her body. Sinking one hand into his back while the other clutched at his hair, she felt the strange sensation of lingering between being grounded and soaring beyond the bounds of sanity.

His thrusts grew harder, deeper, filling her so utterly and while desire was thick in her veins clamoring for capitulation, yet Oswald was not in a hurry. He moved as leisurely as a slowly ebbing seashore, yet bliss grabbed a hold of her and did not let go. Arching back, she sunk her hands into his hair. It was heavenly and she did not want it to end.

I suppose this is what they mean by making love.

* * *

Waking up from a heavy, blissful sleep Aphrodite’s eyes met the tousled hair and sleeping face of her husband. She smiled as the memory of last night sent sparks tingling under her skin. They had made tender love twice last night, before they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms

Flagrant joy pervaded every cell of her being while her fingers lifted and stroked through his hair. “Good morning, Sweetling,” he murmured, even with his eyes closed.

“Yes, it is,” she replied. “Very much so.”

He reached out and snaked an arm around her waist, to pull her onto his chest. “Would you like go out today?”

“To avoid your mother?” Aphrodite asked. “I’d rather stay. I don’t run from my battles.”

His eyes slitted open. “I admire your courage.”

“I won’t run,” she vowed. “I feel that it will only deepen her mistrust of me. I need to prove that I am nothing like your first wife.”

Taking her hand he kissed the back of her knuckles. “And how do you plan to prove that?”

“I…” she paused to nibble her lip, “I don’t know yet, but I think my actions will be more meaningful than any words you or I can speak.”

His smile was slight. “I have faith you will do the near-impossible. I fear that you and Mother will clash when it comes to running the Hall. She’s done it singlehandedly for near twenty years since my father passed when I was eight.”

She shook her head. “I am not going to usurp her authority, Oswald. No, what I want is for us to come to an amicable agreement to share some duties so that I know what to do when it’s my time to take over all of them.”

An odd look that crossed his face made her curious. “What is it?”

“Claire didn’t even think of taking the reins from Mother,” Oswald said. “She was content to keep things as they were.”

“Nothing?” Aphrodite asked. “Not even the weekly menu?”

“Not even that,” he said while a sorrowful far-away look rested in his eyes.

Realizing what was happening, she reached out and touched his cheek, bringing his attention back to her. “I told Leo this yesterday and I realize I should have told you first. I am not here to compete with the memories you might have of her. I just want to have my place right alongside her in your heart. Don’t be afraid to tell me your memories of her, like you just did.”

“Nevertheless,” he sat up and raked a hand through his tousled hair. “You must tread carefully with Mother.”

Turning her eyes to the window she noted the growing daylight. “What are your mornings here like?”

“Some mornings we do share breakfast,” he said while slanting a look to her. “Are you ready for that?”

“The most strained meal of my life?” Aphrodite ruffled her hair. “No, but I will not put it off. The longer it goes, the worst it will get. I want her to know that I am as dedicated to you as you are to me.”

Twisting, Oswald cocked one elbow beside her and with his other hand cupped her face and kissed her. “You amaze me every time.”

“Tell me that again after breakfast.”

They entered the breakfast room, smaller and more intimate than the proper dining room, to find Dowager Tennesley there, sipping her tea. The Dowager paused to look at them then went back to her tea dismissively.

“Good morning,” Aphrodite said calmly.

She didn’t look back but said, “I wonder what kept you. You’re not one to linger in the morning, Son.”

“Well, it is the two of us now,” Oswald replied as he pulled out Aphrodite’s chair for her. “I’m sure you can allow a few more moments.”

Seated, he poured out his coffee while Aphrodite made her tea, a thick strain of uncomfortable tension stifling the air in the room. Oswald frowned into his cup. “I think this brew has gone stale.”

The Dowager shifted forward in her straight-backed chair. “I believe Cook put in an order for a new batch from the Dutch Traders. The Indian beans are in short supply.”

“How about the Jamaican beans?” Aphrodite added. “It’s the only coffee my father uses, and he swears it is the most flavorful. Moreover, its fresher when you get it off the wharves.”

“We have no compunction to take advice from a deviant,” the Dowager sniffed decisively. “We will stick to the India brand, thank you.”

“Actually, I will put in and order for the Island’s tins, Blue Mountain, I believe,” Oswald said while he piled a plate high with slivers of ham, coddled eggs, and oat cakes.

When he looked up, his mother’s stare seemed to eat up all the air in the room. “You cannot be crediting her nonsense,” she said.

“Why not,” Oswald shrugged. “It is one slight change, Mother. Change can be good, you know.”

“So, you will discredit my wisdom for her flippant suggestion?” the Dowager snapped. “Tradition is tradition for a reason, Oswald.”

“And yet traditions change,” he said easily. “You need to understand, Mother, things will not be the same forever.”

She shared a hard look between Oswald and Aphrodite before sliding her chair back in a huff. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Settling her cup down, Aphrodite grimaced. Staring into the bleak brown depths in her cup she shook her head. “That did not go well.”

“No,” he agreed while reaching for her hand. “But we knew it would happen. Pluck your chin up, Sweetling. It will take some time.”

Barely managing a slight smile, she went back to her cooling tea. “Time—”