‘That can be arranged.’ Grant looked up. ‘Yes, Grimswade, what is it?’
‘Should I tell the kitchen to put dinner back, my lady, seeing as you have only just got in?’
‘Goodness, is that the time?’ For a moment she had thought the butler had overheard Grant and was suggesting delaying dinner while she was pursued around the bedchamber by a playful husband. Really, she must get a grip on her imagination! ‘I’ll go straight up now. Don’t inconvenience Cook, thank you, Grimswade.’
‘Thank you, my lady.’
‘Coward,’ Grant whispered in her ear as she passed him.
If only you knew, my love. Pray heaven that you never do.
Chapter Eighteen
December 15—Grosvenor Street, London
‘More treasures?’
Kate nodded to Wilson and waited until the maid closed the bedchamber door behind her before she answered. Grant was standing at the foot of the bed and eyeing the heap of packets and bandboxes that the footmen had just brought up. She rather thought he was on the verge of smiling, but she could not be certain—after all, she had spent almost a week doing nothing else but shop.
‘Yes. And you have bought a stack of neckcloths and at least two waistcoats, and a new evening suit and three pairs of boots.’
‘I have.’ Yes, his mouth was just twitching at the corner.
‘One has to dress,’ Kate drawled, risking it. ‘At least that was what I heard one lady say to another while I was in the fitting room at Mrs Bell’s.’
‘That is absolutely true. Think what a spectacle Bond Street would be if one did not.’
‘Especially if Prinny was on the strut.’
Grant shuddered. ‘I did not need that image being put into my mind, thank you!’ He picked up a large flat box from the floor. ‘And what does this contain?’
‘Um…I was hoping it was something you wouldn’t see in broad daylight,’ Kate confessed.
Grant weighed the box on the upturned palm of one hand and looked at the shop stamp on the lid. ‘Ah, the cost of this, I imagine, is in inverse proportion to the amount of fabric it contains.’
‘It was a trifle expensive. I was hoping it might be the sort of thing that would get me chased around the bedchamber.’
‘But not spanked?’ Grant had a speculative gleam in his eye. ‘Try it on for me, and we’ll see.’
‘At four o’clock in the afternoon?’ Her pulse was racing along with her imagination.
‘I really cannot persuade you out of the idea that there are respectable times and places for lovemaking, can I?’ Grant piled the parcels on the bed on to the floor, then sat down and pulled off his boots.
‘I can be persuaded.’ Kate picked up the box and whisked into the dressing room. ‘Close your eyes.’
He was quite correct about the cost. If looked at dispassionately, the negligee consisted of nothing but floating panels of pale blue silk gauze, a large number of silver ribbons and dark blue silk flowers appliquéd in various strategic positions. Crushed up it would fit in a soup bowl and, as a garment, it was utterly impractical for anything except tormenting one’s husband. She had thought it delicious the moment she saw it.
When she looked around the edge of the door Grant was leaning against a bedpost, arms crossed, eyes closed. He was wearing nothing but a severe expression. Once, Kate would have been alarmed, now she could read him well enough to know she was being teased, especially as there was nothing to disguise the fact that he was finding this arousing.
She tiptoed up, swirled round so her gossamer skirts whispered across his legs and ran to the other side of the bed. Grant’s reflexes were fast and he was on her heels, reaching for her as she scrambled across the bed, silk panels flying. Kate made it to the other side just as Grant somersaulted across the bed and landed on his feet in front of her.
‘That is the most outrageously provoking garment I have even seen.’ He was breathing far harder than the amount of activity justified.
‘And you have seen many?’
Kate could have sworn he had actually growled, although as she found herself seized, upended and face down over Grant’s knees, she could not be certain.
‘Now, then, let’s check the workmanship.’ One large hand at the small of her back was more than enough to hold her down, even if she had wanted to struggle, which she did not. A wriggle or two, though…