Rowles opened his eyes and was greeted with a teasing grin from his far-too-tempting wife. He glared at her, even though her words painted such an erotic picture he had difficulty keeping the playful scowl in place. “You’ll pay for that later,” he vowed, then captured her lips once more, devouring her answering smile.

“I’m sure I will. I hope so,” she mumbled against his tormenting kiss.

The carriage slowed and rolled to a stop. Rowles swore softly at being interrupted in kissing his delightful wife, but upon realizing the sooner they finished their outing, the sooner they could return home, he reluctantly released her lips and sighed. “I suppose we’ve arrived.”

“That’s generally what the halt of a carriage means, Your Grace,” she teased, then gave him one final quick kiss.

“Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” He injected his words with a hint of joking sarcasm. Then he took a moment to straighten his rumpled coat, and as his eyes lifted to Joan, a deep swell of satisfaction filled him. Her bee-stung lips were evidently well-loved and her dress was only slightly mussed, but enough that he felt pride in knowing it was all his doing.

And it would be his undoing later.

“Am I presentable?” Joan asked tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Or is it that obvious you assaulted me on the carriage ride over?”

Rowles frowned playfully. “If I remember correctly, you assaulted me.”

“Details.” She waved a hand dismissively.

“Yes, details,” he replied with a flick of her fingers. “If you’re not presentable, it’s entirely your fault.”

“How so?” she asked, but her tone was light and playful.

“Because you’re entirely too tempting, and I cannot be expected to resist any of your charms, ever. So let that be a warning not to tempt me in a way I cannot refuse.”

Joan’s scrutiny lowered to her lap as a blush tinted her cheeks a fetching pink. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s a compliment that’s the raw truth, my love.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “And another truth, I hate gloves. I much prefer your skin,” he murmured against her wrist.

“Well, I must say I prefer your skin as well, but in public, social constraints require them.”

“Unfortunate, that.”

Joan shook her head. “Are we ever going to leave the carriage or should we turn back? Wait. No, I didn’t say such a thing.” She laughed.

“Well…”

“No, we must go and see your beloved college, or I fear I’ll never get the official tour you’ve promised. I wish to see the places you love so well.” She shook her head amusedly.