Perhaps. That, and to prove his father right. Useless, depraved, obscene—these were the words the gentle man uttered against his son in his last hours. And, too late, Magnus had realized that this man’s opinion, above all others, was the one that mattered the most.
Now there was Caroline, whose sweet face and flashing gemstone eyes made his pulse race wild and his soul ache. He was starting to need her. And he was proving himself to be no better to her than he had to his father.
Seated with her mother the next day in the sitting room at the Ordinary, Caroline’s mind was leagues away from their conversation. She didn’t know how long it had been since her mother had ceased talking, only becoming aware of it when she felt the weight of her stare.
“Tell me,” Audrae commanded.
Caroline sighed. “Mother, this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.”
Audrae nodded solemnly. “It is difficult to see anyone suffering, darling. Especially someone you care about.”
Caroline whipped her head around to stare at her mother’s implacable face. The statement hung in the air. Finally, Caroline broke her gaze away. “How is the medicine working? Has it helped James at all?”
“It is too early to tell. The doctor was going to inquire about a sanatorium.”
“Mother, those places are too expensive. As generous as Magnus has been, we cannot afford it.”
“The doctor is looking into it,” Audrae said calmly, putting the matter to rest.
James woke from his nap, and the women turned to cheerful topics, namely the exciting prospect of the new wardrobes provided by the earl. It seemed James was to have several new suits and a parcel of play clothes. Audrae ordered only two gowns from the crestfallen Mrs. Dungeness, asserting she would purchase others in due time, with her own money, thank you very much. They all three indulged in a hearty laugh at the giddy seamstress and her abominable taste.
It was past midday, but Caroline postponed her departure to play a game of chess with James, watching his small, pale face for signs of improvement. She saw none, but she allowed no disappointment showed as she teased and laughed with her brother, letting him fatally-corner her king.
When she returned to Hawking Park, she took to her room. Thoughts of James kept her awake and restless until finally she gave herself over to tears.
She wished she could curl up and sleep, and in sleep shut out the horror. James. And Magnus. Death was all around her.
When her grief was spent, she rose, washed her face and donned a fresh dress before going down for dinner.
Magnus was pleasant company, if withdrawn a bit more. than usual. It amazed Caroline how unfazed he seemed by his illness. He looked no worse for his recent bout. Unlike James, whose pallor and gauntness only increased. This last thought brought a fresh wash of pain.
“Cara?”
She gasped, blinking into awareness of her present. Magnus was staring at her, a shadow of concern over his handsome features.
“Am I boring you?”
“No! No, I am sorry. Please excuse me.”
His eyes darkened to gray-green as he studied her for a moment. Caroline became acutely aware of every plane on that angular face, from the strong nose to the square jaw. At times like this, when he leveled one of his penetrating looks, she felt a tremor of fear that he could somehow plumb her secrets.
“Is something disturbing you?” he asked.
It would be foolish to deny it. She cast about for some excuse. “I suppose. I was only wondering when my dresses would be ready.”
She was rewarded with a scowl, and seeing her error, she rose. Acting on impulse, Caroline walked toward him. “And I realize I have been remiss.” Stopping at the side of his chair, she leaned in close. “I have not thanked you properly. As I recall, you prefer demonstrations of gratitude.” With that, she brushed her lips against the smoothshaven cheek.
The texture of his skin felt wonderful and she lingered. It came as somewhat of a surprise to know she wanted to kiss him, and not just in this daughterly manner. He did not move, staring straight ahead with his lids drawn down over his eyes to shield their expression. At his lack of response, she made to move away, but his large hand caught her wrist and yanked her onto his lap.
“If you are going to kiss me, Cara, do it properly,” he said as his mouth came down over hers. The thrill of it sent shudders rippling through her body and she relaxed, cradled securely and braced by steely arms. Slipping her hand into the soft curls twisting at his collar, she sighed.
There were words unborn in her breast, things she wanted to say, but she didn’t know what they were. She wanted him. Her body ached for the feel of his hands, and the desire to be with him, to taste again the wonders of passion, was overwhelming.
A cry and crash brought them both up short. Caroline looked up to find a wide-eyed maid standing gawking at them, pastries scattered at her feet. With a squeak, she whirled on her heel and fled.
Caroline turned her head slowly to Magnus. They both grinned and fell to laughing.
“You are shameless,” he sighed. “Now get off me before we shock the entire staff into giving their notice.”
The fortuitous arrival of the servant had doused the burning fog in Caroline’s head enough that she responded immediately.
Magnus stood beside her, clearing his throat and breathing deeply. She busied herself arranging her skirts, and he wandered away, leaning his head back to study the mural on the ceiling. After an awkward interval, he gave her an admonishing look. “Unless you want to test the sturdiness of this dining table, not to mention my restraint, I suggest you refrain from such doings in the future.”
She grinned impishly. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”
He slanted a glance at her and made a low, warning sound. Coming to take her arm, he led her to the door. “Come with me.”
Caroline allowed him to lead her to his study. The cozy room had a well-lived-in look, cluttered with papers and bound volumes of ledgers. On his desk, a messy scatter of various documents obscured the surface.
She had been in this room several times, but never to enjoy its comforts. Magnus indicated a plush tufted leather chair, and she sat.
“I think it is absurd for you to retire after dinner on your own while I sit and drink port alone,” he said. “We are the only two here, so we can dispense with the formalities, don’t you agree?”
Caroline nodded.
“There is something I want to give you.” He went to a hip-high cast-iron safe, knelt, and twirled the combination knob with a few quick flicks of his wrist. Swinging open the door, he brought out a flat black box about the size of his hand. “I had this brought here to give to you on the occasion of our wedding.” He held it out to her. “I had forgotten about it up to now. It seems I am not very good at thinking of others. A fault of mine, I have been told.”
She glanced questioningly up at him, and at the quirk in the corner of his mouth, took it. “I have no gift for you,” she said.
He gave one small chuckle. “On the contrary.”
She knew what he was alluding to, but cast her eyes downward rather than tempt his control by making a sporting reply. The box certainly contained some trinket, jewelry probably. She lifted the lid and froze, her eyes fastened on the brilliant array of diamonds laid out before her.
Lifting the piece, she held it up to see what it was. A choker necklace comprised of four strands of diamondencrusted gold dazzled like fire before her eyes. Several large stones were set in a medallion at the front, with a modest fringe of dangling gems at the bottom. Looking to Magnus, he saw he was studying her again, watching closely for her reaction. Intuitively, she knew he was waiting for some sign of greed.
“If I am not to kiss you, then how shall 1 thank you?”
He ignored the question. “It was my mother’s. She wears it in the painting in the grand salon.”
“I don’t remember,” Caroline said, returning her eyes to the fascinating play of light among the brill
iant stones. “I shall have to go view the portrait.” Looking back to him, she smiled. “Magnus, thank you, truly. I shall take excellent care of it, and when our son marries, he shall present it to his bride.”
Immediately, she knew she had said something terribly wrong. Magnus’ stricken expression and quick retreat made her curse her thoughtlessness. Placing the necklace back in its box, she set it aside and stood up. “Magnus, I am so sorry, I only wanted you to know that I shall treasure it—’
“No,” he said without turning around, “do not apologize. You said nothing wrong.” He glanced over his shoulder, flashing a quick, unconvincing smile. “I am glad you like it. Now, go to bed, Cara. Tomorrow you can try it on for me.”
She wished there was something she could say, or retract the words that had caused him pain. Answering simply, “Yes, Magnus. Good evening,” she retrieved the box and went up to her room.
Chapter Ten
The new medicine seemed to be working with James, for Caroline’s next visit saw him somewhat improved. His doctor was convinced the sanatorium was the only way he would fully recover, but the expense was exorbitant. Audrae comforted Caroline, pointing out that the treatment was helping, and perhaps, at a later date, they would have the funds. Unspoken were the words that the “later date” was after Magnus’ death, when Caroline would have access to the Eddington fortune.
Despite the good news about her brother, Caroline was miserable. She felt listless and sad, longing for something for which she had no name. David had come for a few days’ stay, and Magnus was busy with him going over business. He was courteous, but distant, thrown into a funk, no doubt, by her tactless words about the future. Even the arrival of some of her wardrobe did not cheer her. As her worry over James abated, her empathy for the man who dominated her thoughts grew, and it was with a certain amount of irony that she reflected she had not lessened her heartache by marrying Magnus. She had simply traded one nightmare for another.
Would Magnus ask to return to her bed, or should she approach him? Would he think her forward if she mentioned it? Was he waiting for her to say something?
The truth was, she felt anxious herself. They had had only one night together. Though she wouldn’t have admitted it for all the Templar’s gold, she wanted to experience those exotic feelings again. Thus she made up her mind.
She took a delicate negligee out of the wardrobe. Mrs. Dungeness was remarkably talented, Caroline mused as she examined the artful way the sheer lemon-colored fabric gathered in coy folds over her breasts and flowed like a spun cloud to her feet. When she moved, tantalizing glimpses of flesh could be seen only to disappear when the fabric shifted. Drawing a silk dressing gown about her, she went to the connecting door and knocked.
She knew he was within, having heard the sound of someone moving about. Belatedly, she thought it might be Arthur, or perhaps Magnus’ valet, but before she could retreat, the door swung open and Magnus stood before her.
He stopped and she froze, their eyes locked.
Caroline opened her mouth. “I—I wish to thank you properly.” She tried to smile at her joke, but it wilted under his stern countenance. He looked angry, and she thought perhaps she had misjudged. Then he took a single step to clear the threshold and crushed her in his arms. His mouth came down over hers in an onslaught of desire. Parting from her lips only long enough to sweep her up into his arms, he bore her to her bed and laid her upon it.
Dazed by the intensity of his response, Caroline watched with growing ardor as he unfastened his cravat, then undid each stud and stripped off his shirt. She didn’t ask him to put out the candles, for her eyes were hungry for him. The sculpted contours of his male body were revealed in full illumination as his trousers came off, followed by the last of his undergarments, until he stood naked, bathed in the golden glow like some glorious god of myth.
Wild surges of desire left her weak. His eyes seared her with emerald heat as he gazed down at her. She held up her hands for him, wanting to feel his flesh against her own. Instead, he caught her hands and raised her to her knees before him on the bed. Her eyes never left his face as she shucked the dressing gown. When her hands came up to slip off her nightgown, he brushed them away. Slowly, his fingers tangled in the thin straps and hooked them down her arms. Tracing light patterns, he edged the garment farther until her breasts were revealed. Her nipples were hard and aching for his touch. He seemed to be taunting her, hesitating, so she captured his hands and brought them to the swell of her needful flesh.
The contact broke the lazy, tantalizing spell he was weaving. He followed quickly with his mouth, tasting, biting, sucking at each sensitive tip until she writhed in his arms, chewing on her lips to keep from crying out. He spoke no words as his hands ran down her body, shedding the negligee and boldly stroking up the inside of her thighs. She arched, sighing, when his fingers explored her woman’s flesh.
“This time, you will know full pleasure,” his harsh voice whispered into her ear.
The elusive tendrils of sensation swirled to life inside her. His mouth was once again at her breast, then trailing kisses of insidious flame across her belly, moving downward.
He tumbled her back onto the pillows and bent over her, his mouth finding the spot he had just caressed to life. She gasped, thinking to protest this impossible intrusion, but the shivery feelings his tongue evoked enslaved her instantly. She relaxed as he began to summon a shocking response from her body. A mindless yearning took possession of her and she strained against his wicked kiss, craving the pleasure, craving release.
It came, and she cried out as a thousand shards of pure delight rained through her body. Every inch of flesh, every nerve, writhed with pulsating pleasure until the intense sensations crested, holding her aloft for what seemed an eternity.
He came over her, penetrating the swollen flesh before she had fully recovered her senses, and the sensation of him filling her was ecstasy. She couldn’t think, only feel the deliciousness of each plunge. Her hands slid to the flexing muscles of his back, daring lower to the tight controlled movements of his buttocks as he thrust into her. Swiftly, then slower, he moved until at last he stiffened and groaned, finding the same fulfillment he had just given her.
Breathless and spent, he rolled her into his arms and shifted so they were side by side. Smoothing damp strands of hair from her forehead, he smiled with a devilish twinkle. “I told you I would lick you everywhere.”
She gave him a lazy, contented look. “You really are a scoundrel, aren’t you?”
“It’s true,” he said. “I’ve never denied it. Complaining?”
“Me?”
“Ummm,” he groaned as he nuzzled her neck. “You nearly drove me out of my mind, you realize.”
“What—oh!” His teeth were nibbling gently at her earlobe. “What did I do?”
He chuckled, low and throaty. “You breathe, Cara.”
She wanted to say she felt the same way, that he aroused the same feelings of desire in her as he professed to have. Yet despite their physical intimacy, the words refused to come. She didn’t understand him, and knew better than to trust his moods, but in one realm at least they were perfectly attuned. Tentatively, her hands began to roam.
He jerked his eyebrow up. “Am I to take it you haven’t finished with me?” She stilled her explorations.
“I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to feel you. Like the way you touch me. All over.”
“Yes,” he answered, his lids drawing down. “I want you to.”
She watched her fingers as they splayed over the thick bulge of muscle in his upper arm, then trailed her fingertips up to his shoulders, across his back to feel the hewn musculature that was as well-defined as a Michelangelo sculpture.
“Your body is beautiful,” she whispered.
He stared at her for a minute before he smiled. “That is an extraordinary thing to say. I know you are inexperienced, so allow me to instruct you. It is I who am to ply you with all manner of compliments, which y
ou take in as your due, and then allow me to touch that which I have just admired.”
She laughed. “I have never been good at playing by others’ rules. I simply say what I think. You said you liked it.”
“Yes. I do, Cara mia. And you are working miracles with my stamina.”
His statement sent a lightning bolt of desire through her. She hesitated, wondering if she dared act on the impulse, then slid her hand downward to grasp his aroused member. He reacted, hissing a sharp intake of breath, closing his eyes. She kissed his neck, tasting the salty-sweetness and breathing in the wonderful masculine scent that was his.
“Good God, woman, what are you doing to me?”
She smiled against the warmth of his skin, remembering their wedding night when she had asked him the same question. Recalling his answer, she said, “I am making love to you.”
He chuckled, and rolled onto his back. “By all means.”
Caroline watched him sleep, studying the handsome face in repose and loving how boyish he looked without the signs of stress furrowing his brow.
They had made love again, and Caroline had been amazed at her boldness. She liked pleasing him. It thrilled her, actually. She just wished she could do it more oftenout of bed. Sexually, they were more than compatible, they were combustible. Which was a fine blessing as they were to concentrate on getting her with child.
Rising from the bed, she slipped on her silk wrapper and went to the French doors which opened onto a small parapet. The night was too cool, so she shut the doors and locked them, then went out to the sitting room where she lit a lone candle to keep her company.
Lifting the cushion of one of the chairs, she reached into the springs and pulled out the black box containing her diamond necklace. Old habits die hard, and as ridiculous as it had felt to hide the box in a sofa cushion, she had done it because she had wanted to secrete the wondrous gift away, treasuring the knowledge that this gorgeous piece now belonged to her. Holding the choker in her hands, she watched the dazzling sparkle of white fire.
A Rose at Midnight Page 11
