“What . . . what’s the matter?” Petra stammered, too stunned by anticlimax to form a coherent thought.

“It’s as hard for me, my love,” he said, his smile teasing her as he kissed her lightly. “But sometimes, deferring delight is a powerful spur to greater heights. Trust me.” He tipped her off his knee and stood up. “Go upstairs now and I will join you in bed in half an hour.”

Petra looked at him for a moment, unsure of what was happening, but his smile was reassuring as he said, “Go, do what you have to. I promise it will be worth it.”

Pulling her robe closer about her, Petra left the library. The house felt cold as she crossed the hall to the stairs after the warmth of the library fire. She hurried up the stairs to the bedroom, glad to see a fire kindled in the hearth there, the curtains drawn against the night, the lamps softly lit. She threw off the robe and climbed into the deep feather bed, her hands moving over her body of their own accord, keeping alive the spark that had been kindled downstairs.

“Wait for me,” Guy’s voice broke into her reverie. He closed the door behind him and turned the key in the lock. He came over to the bed, tossing his own robe over a chair. “Don’t you even think of doing my work for me, madam.” He knelt over her, taking her hand in a firm grip, guiding it to his penis. “Work your magic there, while I get on with what I was doing.”

Petra chuckled weakly. Her husband was in his managing mode and she was perfectly happy to be guided by him. In this area at least.

* * *

Sated, lost in the deep afterglow of love, Petra lay curled against her husband, her body throbbing pleasantly. “If that was ravishment, my lord baron, please feel free to do it any time,” she murmured, kissing his nipple, moving her hand down his body to cradle his now flaccid penis. “Shall I wake it up?”

“Have mercy,” Guy groaned into her hair. “I need time to recover.”

Petra laughed softly. “Actually so do I. I can barely move a muscle.” They lay quietly for a while watching the firelight flickering on the ceiling before she said, “If I asked you to be home on Friday afternoon, do you think you would be able to be?”

“Why do you want me here?” Guy asked sleepily.

“Oh, I have a little surprise planned,” she murmured, trying to keep her voice lazy and neutral, as if his answer didn’t really matter.

“This Friday?”

“If you could?”

“Well, your surprises, my love, tend to be irresistible, if tonight’s is anything to go by,” he said. “So, yes, I can arrange to be home this Friday afternoon.”

“Four o’clock?”