by Burke, Darcy
He couldn’t see it, not if she wanted to mother children. He had none, and apparently, she couldn’t have any.
It was a very long time before he slept.
* * *
At breakfast the following morning, Lord Cosford had announced they would ride in the afternoon if the weather continued to remain dry. This had generated a sense of excitement. Now, as most had gathered in the drawing room following breakfast, there was a fraught energy, as if everyone couldn’t wait to get out.
Or perhaps that was simply Genie’s inner agitation. She’d barely slept after visiting Edmund the night before.
Her gaze found him across the room. She’d keep a surreptitious eye on him all day, and it seemed he’d done the same. Any time their eyes met, she looked away. Did he do the same? And were they going to avoid each other for the rest of the party? Tomorrow would be the last full day, so she supposed it was possible.
It was also probably for the best. Then why did she feel sad?
She went to pluck a biscuit from a plate on a table in the corner. There was never a shortage of food or drink at Blickton.
“Good choice. Those are my favorite.” Edmund’s voice sent a quiver of delight up her spine.
Genie turned to face him as he picked up one of the biscuits. “Mine too. But then I like lavender anything. And lemon.” The biscuit combined both flavors.
Seeing him this close made Genie’s chest swell and then abruptly tighten. While she would cherish last night, she couldn’t help thinking it would be best if it hadn’t happened.
“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly.
His dark brows gathered on his wide forehead. “For what?”
“For last night. I should not have come to your room. It was ill conceived of me.”
His features relaxed, and one side of his mouth briefly quirked up. “I thought it was rather brilliant,” he murmured.
She fought a blush, taking a deep breath. “We should have discussed things beforehand. I didn’t mean to lead you…” Lead him where? “Anywhere. I didn’t think at all.” Not of him. She’d thought of her desires, her apprehension, only her. “I behaved selfishly.”
“My body would beg to differ,” he said wryly.
While she appreciated his sense of humor, she wasn’t sure it was appropriate here. Not when she was trying to apologize for what had amounted to an unforgettable night. “Yes, it was pleasant. However, you must see the truth—you need an heir. I can’t give you one.”
“My cousin, though now gone, had a son. He’s still very young, but he will inherit if I don’t have children. I don’t know him—or his mother—at all. However, regardless of whether I have an heir, it seems you would prefer a husband who already has children.”
Her chest pinched. “I don’t even know if I want to wed.”
“It’s a conundrum.” His tone was quiet and perhaps sad. “I do understand. Nothing, however, changes how much I enjoyed last night. Or how much I’d like to do it again.”
Her gaze shot to his. “Please don’t say that.” Because she wanted it too. Yet, there was no point to it, except to cause heartache.
“Why? Is it wrong to seek pleasure? To want to enjoy ourselves together?”
Before she could answer, they were joined by Lord Rotherham. Tall, with blond hair and brilliant green eyes, the earl asked which biscuit he should choose.
Edmund pointed to their shared favorite. “This one. Unless you’d rather try something less delicious in case you end up liking it too much.” He shot her a testy stare before taking himself away from the table and leaving her alone with Rotherham.
Realizing she was frowning after him, she blinked and smoothed her expression before turning her attention to the attractive earl. He flashed her his almost ever-present wicked smile before he nibbled at the biscuit.
“Oh, that is good,” he said around the bite in his mouth. He swallowed. “I adore lemon. So tart and sweet at once. I believe Howell says that’s what he looks for in a lady.”
“And what do you look for?” Genie asked, purposely flirting. Her reasons were twofold. First, to distract anyone from thinking she and Edmund were a pair. There had been a few mumblings, and she wanted to quash them. She didn’t want to be linked to anyone. Second, to dissuade Edmund from pursuing anything between them. Last night had been wonderful, but it was a single occurrence and wouldn’t be repeated.
“I suppose there’s nothing wrong with sweet and tart, though I might choose spice as a better description.” He narrowed his eyes slightly at her. “How would you describe your taste in gentlemen?”
Genie’s gaze involuntarily flicked toward Edmund. She didn’t particularly want to answer that question. Thankfully, they were joined by Mr. Sterling.
“We’re discussing the biscuits,” Genie said. “I like the lavender lemon variety. Do you have a favorite?”
“Almond. Lavender is awful.” Sterling made a face as he reached for an almond one. “My eldest daughter would agree with you. We often debate the true purpose of lavender. I insist it’s for fragrance only. As a flavor, it’s an abomination. She argues with me incessantly.”
Rotherham laughed as he took one of the lavender lemon biscuits. “That sounds like my daughters. Sometimes I think they like to argue with me just to be contrary.”
“Yes!” Sterling agreed, his dark blue eyes sparking with mirth.
Genie didn’t laugh along with them. How could she when she would give anything for a contrary daughter? “They all sound charming.”
“Your son is grown now, but surely he was difficult at some point?” Sterling asked before taking a bite of his almond biscuit.
“My stepson, yes.” Titus had been a horrible rake for a few years before his father died. That was rather different from arguing over herbs. “I think there is always difficulty in being a parent.” A particular difficulty that was at once rife with joy and pain. She would never trade her three years with Eliza even if she’d known the heartbreak she would endure.
“That is true,” Rotherham said. “Why do you think there are so many people looking to remarry at this party?” He laughed. “Doing this alone is too hard.”
Genie didn’t know from experience, but Jerome had said the same thing before they’d wed. He’d wanted to remarry as soon as possible—for Titus. Still, he’d been adamant about finding love the second time and had been overjoyed to find Genie, who’d met both his needs and his desires.
She looked between the two men. “What is more important to you—finding a mother for your children or finding a wife for yourself?”
Sterling, who was clearly interested in her but who had also made self-deprecating remarks about being a mere mister while she was a dowager duchess and daughter of a viscount, gestured with the biscuit between his fingers. “Ideally, I’d find both.” He popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth.
Rotherham seemed to think for a moment. “Honestly? I adore my daughters. Losing their mother was hard. Finding someone with whom they can hopefully form a close relationship is what will make me happy. So that is my answer.” He finished his biscuit.
Genie couldn’t help but melt a bit at his words. “That’s lovely,” she said softly. Perhaps he wasn’t too young for her?
Wait, was she suddenly on the hunt for a husband? Or was she looking to be a mother? It would be best if she wanted both—as Sterling had said. She looked to him. “I think you have the right of it. Kendal and I were fortunate to have both.”
“You liked being a stepmother?” Sterling asked.
“I do. Kendal—my stepson—is everything to me.”
Both men looked at her as if they were envisioning her in that role. She suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“The sun has come out!” Cecilia said loudly. Everyone turned toward the windows. “Let us prepare for the ride. We’ll congregate at the stables in one hour.”
People began leaving the drawing room, eager to change into their riding clothes and get outside. Geni
e had to admit she was looking forward to some fresh air on her face. Perhaps she could forget about the complexities of this party for a while.
Before departing, both men said they looked forward to seeing her on the ride. As Genie made her way to the door, Cecilia approached her.
“I thought you and Satterfield were perhaps forming an attachment, but then I’ve seen you with Sterling several times. And I just saw you flirting with Rotherham.” Cecilia grinned. “This is precisely what I was hoping for when I invited you. I do hope one of them will suit you.”
One had, at least in a particular area. Genie pushed thoughts of Edmund and his…skills from her mind. “I still haven’t quite forgiven you for not telling me the purpose of this party in advance. But I am having a good time.” She smiled to take the sting from the first part.
Cecilia gave her a sheepish look. “I should have told you, but was I wrong in thinking you would not have come?”
Genie sighed. “Probably not. However, I would ask that you not be too eager about pairing me off. Just because I’m enjoying myself doesn’t mean I’m ready to marry again.”
“All right, but there are plenty of gentlemen to choose from. Sterling would be a good match. You don’t care that he doesn’t have a title, do you?”
“Of course not.”
Waving her hand, Cecilia said, “I didn’t think so.”
“It seems as though your matchmaking efforts will bear fruit. There are at least a pair or two, from what I’m hearing.” Genie didn’t like gossip, but in a party of this size, it was impossible to ignore comments that were made.
Cecilia clasped her hands together. “I do hope so! I’m wondering if I should make this an annual event. Why not?”
“Indeed, why not.” Genie arched a brow at her cousin. “Provided you make it clear to every guest what to expect.”
Laughing, Cecilia put her arm through Genie’s. “Yes, yes. Now, let us don our riding costumes and show everyone how well our grandfather insisted we learn to ride.”
Genie laughed with her, remembering their summers together at their grandfather’s estate. “Thank you for inviting me. I don’t regret coming.”
Nor did she regret visiting Edmund last night. It might have been better if she hadn’t, but Genie would forever be grateful that she did.
Chapter 8
Not even a brisk ride across Blickton’s extensive parkland had eased the frustration roiling inside Edmund. That Genie had apologized to him for what had happened last night rankled him horribly. He regretted nothing—there was nothing to apologize for.
Then he’d had to watch her laugh and smile with bloody Rotherham, who was far too good-looking than any man had a right to be, and with Sterling, who’d been trailing after her all week. It was enough to drive a man to drink. Or to surrender to his inner beast and snatch the fair damsel from her horse, then ride off with her into the wilds. The latter plan, despite its barbarity, held a tantalizing appeal.
Nevertheless, Edmund returned to the stable yard with the rest of the guests and then lingered with the gentlemen as the ladies made their way inside. He watched Genie go, her backside swaying, tempting him to reveal his inner savagery. He recalled sliding his hand beneath her as he’d feasted between her thighs, his fingers closing around her soft flesh, and began to grow hard.
Dammit.
He turned away, burying a scowl.
The men were discussing which women were the best riders. Mrs. Sheldon was far and away superior, but Genie and her cousin, their hostess, were both excellent. Poor Mrs. Wynne-Hargest had struggled, but Sir Nathaniel had been kind enough to lend her assistance. So much so that they were now rumored to be a pair. He demurred, refusing to confirm nor deny any attachment.
Cosford sent a sly look toward Rotherham. “I’d thought you might be fixated on Mrs. Dunthorpe, but after today, I think it might be the dowager duchess.”
Rotherham rolled his eyes. “Give it up, Cosford. No one is going to come out and say whom they’re sleeping with or courting or anything else.” There was a rousing chorus of agreement.
“Besides, it’s obvious Her Grace is interested in Sterling,” Howell said, elbowing Sterling, who stood beside him.
Edmund’s irritation reached a boiling point, and he strode from the group. Not toward the house, but back to the stable, where he intended to help put away the tack. When he was unsettled, he always turned to manual labor to relax and reset his equilibrium. Or sex.
Since he had no hope for the latter, he would take the labor.
At first, the grooms attempted to decline his offer of assistance, but he ultimately convinced them to let him stay. He removed his coat and threw himself into the work, enjoying every moment, including the camaraderie of the grooms and stable lads. It wasn’t terribly seemly for an earl to behave in this manner, but he didn’t care. His own stable men knew to expect him and indeed welcomed him.
After some time, he felt refreshed. He bid goodbye to the grooms, picked up his coat, and went back into the yard, which was now thankfully empty. Intending to don his coat before returning to the house, he caught sight of something in the grass glinting in the sun.
He bent to pick the object up—an earring. Which he recognized. The gold-and-carnelian piece belonged to Genie.
His pulse quickened at the prospect of returning it to her. If only she hadn’t asked him not to say he’d enjoyed last night. He’d been certain she’d enjoyed it too. But it seemed she regretted it.
He closed his fist around the earring and straightened. Looking toward the house, he was surprised to see the object of his thoughts coming directly toward him.
Genie slowed as she neared him. She looked about on the ground. “I lost an earring.”
He held out his hand, opening his fist. “This one?”
She sucked in a breath. “Yes. Thank you.”
He closed his hand around it once more. “I could hold it hostage.”
Her gaze snapped to his, her eyes widening. “For what?”
“Do you regret what happened last night?” He had to know, and yet he didn’t think he could bear it if she said yes.
It took her a moment to respond, but it was worth the wait. “No.” She cautiously stepped toward him. “Still, I don’t wish to repeat it.”
“Why not?”
“Edmund, please don’t do this. It’s best if we move on.”
He took her hand and pivoted, pulling her with him behind the stable. Not pulling, exactly, because she wasn’t resisting.
When they were out of sight of the house, he let go of her and turned to face her. “Why? Tell me why you want to pretend there isn’t something between us.”
“I did!” Her eyes blistered with fire. “We don’t want the same things. We can’t make each other happy, not past this party.”
They didn’t want the same things. She wanted children, and he didn’t have any. He needed an heir, and she couldn’t give him one. That was the difference—she wanted and he needed. But did he want a child? He’d thought he might, but at the moment, he couldn’t see past the strong feelings he had for her.
He wanted every moment with her he could get. Even if this was to be the last one. “Then why not make the most of this party while we’re here? Come to me tonight.”
“No.”
He swore. Reaching for her hand, he put the earring in her palm. “Take this and go, then.”
She stared at the jewel. Shaking, she brought it up to her ear and slid it through the tiny hole, fastening it in place. But she didn’t go. She stood there, her chest heaving as she stared at him.
He saw the conflict in her eyes—the desire, the pain. “Genie, my darling, why do you fight this?” He gently stroked her jaw, then cupped her cheek.
“I can’t be the woman you need.”
His heart ached at the anguish in her voice. “You are the woman I want.” And he knew in that moment, despite the brevity of their acquaintance and the stark conflict that would seem to prevent their
future, she was.
She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. Edmund snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her chest against his. He slanted his mouth over hers and made certain she knew how badly he wanted her. Needed her. Desired her above all others.
He tossed his coat and hat away, then nipped her lower lip and kissed along her jawline, licking her flesh toward her ear. Dragging his mouth along her neck, he savored her taste and scent.
“Edmund, I—”
He pulled his head up and looked into her hazy eyes. “What? Tell me what you want. If you want me to go, I will. If you want me to toss up your skirts and shag you senseless, I will. Tell me, Genie.”
“Take me. Now. Please.” She dug her fingers into his neck and shoulders.
He steered her backward until she met the exterior of the stable. They were somewhat obscured by a shrub on one side, but if someone happened by on the other, they would be seen. “Be sure you want this—here. Now.” He clasped her hip and ground against her.
She whimpered. “Yes.” She tugged at her skirts, raising them.
There was nothing to aid them. He would have to lift her, but knew he could. Hell, he could have carried the damn world if it meant he could share ecstasy with her one more time.
He put his hand on hers and brought her skirts to her waist. “Hold them,” he instructed before he kissed her again. She clutched at his head, her tongue dancing wildly with his.
Edmund slipped his hand between her legs and stroked her satiny flesh. She was soft and wet. Ready. And he was unbearably hard for her. He played with her, pressing her clitoris and sliding his finger into her sheath. She clenched around him, gasping into his mouth.
Then her hands were on his fall, unbuttoning him and pulling his cock free. She encircled him with her hand, stroking him from base to tip over and over until he feared he would spill himself in her hand.
“Enough,” he rasped. “Hold on to me.”
She curled her hands around his neck, and he lifted her against the stable. “Wrap your legs around me.” She did as he instructed. “Good girl.”
