by Heather Boyd
Talking with Jillian and speaking of Vera’s tragic death had been a melancholy business, but such moments were short-lived. “I am in excellent spirits, as always,” she told him. She gestured to the riding crop in his hands. “Are you just come from your fiancée’s home?”
Meriwether shuffled his feet. “Oh yes, a pleasant luncheon with her family.”
“Ah,” Esme murmured, realizing how little she was affected by his news. Neither angry nor sad nor even disappointed in the situation. She didn’t feel anything about the loss of her lover and his status as an engaged man. “You must be happy.”
“I am.” He suddenly frowned. “Despite my marriage, I hope we might remain friends and that you know you might always rely on me.”
Esme blinked. “What could I possibly need to rely on you for? I am not in any distress. And I imagine your marriage will not increase our knowledge of each other to the point where a deeper friendship can develop.”
“There’s no reason we cannot remain on the best of terms.” He drew near. “If we were discreet.”
She narrowed her eyes. Did he assume she’d ignore the fact he was to marry? Men who did, placing so little importance on the commitment they’d made to another, were pitiful, in her opinion. The one thing she would never willingly do was usurp a wife’s place in a husband’s affections. They’d discussed marriage once too, her disinclination to wed again, but perhaps in the exuberance of his successful suit, he’d forgotten her prohibition on entanglements with married and engaged men. “There is every reason. Your future wife’s feelings, for one. I will not be a party to breaking her heart.”
Meriwether caught her hand in his. “Jane will be a dutiful wife.”
“So I have heard.” And that was from Lord Windermere. His praise of Jane had been a commonplace compliment at best. She removed her hand from Meriwether’s clinging grip. Jane would be like any properly raised young woman in society today. She’d overlook her husband’s wandering eye and if he strayed into another woman’s bed, she’d hide her hurt from everyone. She would bear the insult in stoic silence, but Esme would never be the one to cause it. “Do give her my regards when you see her next and my best wishes for your happy marriage.”
“That won’t be for a few days. I had hoped to enjoy the rest of the house party with you.” He smiled a little too warmly. “We came with that intention and I apologize for being distracted.”
He considered marriage a mere distraction? Good grief, he was cold! “My interest currently lies elsewhere,” she assured the man.
He glanced behind him. “With our host?”
Esme was aware that Lord Windermere was watching her every move very closely this morning. Ordinarily, she could ignore him, but today her feelings were mixed. She didn’t mind him looking, yet she didn’t quite know how to react to him. Last night had been good between them. Surprisingly good, and she’d slept well afterward and awakened refreshed and invigorated. But considering the fact that she had been fielding discreet questions about her fling with Windermere all morning, and even this fool had noticed, she would have to speak to Windermere alone and have him stop being so obvious about his interest. “With whomever I choose. Good day, sir.”
“I understand,” he cried out urgently as she turned away. “You were angry with me last night. I forgive you.”
Esme pivoted slowly, unable to hide her surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“You must have been hurt very badly by last night’s turn of events if you’d make the mistake of letting that man seduce you.” Meriwether removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Things with Jane happened so fast and I know you were expecting me instead. There is no reason to share his bed again. I’m free to be with you until the end of the house party and when we return to London, I want to call on you at home as usual.”
Anger surged through her. How dare he think her affair with Lord Windermere existed purely because she’d lost him. Windermere was not second-rate to anyone. He was as vigorous a lover as any she’d had, far more commanding than Meriwether in fact.
Esme pressed her fingers to her temple. Dear God, am I about to defend Lord Windermere’s prowess after a lifetime of disdain? Apparently so.
She dropped her hand and straightened her shoulders. “Lord Windermere is a generous lover of great skill and expertise. I enjoyed every moment in his arms.”
Meriwether’s face leeched of color. “You couldn’t mean that.”
“Actually I do.” She smiled thinly. “We are very much alike, Lord Windermere and I. And he understands me much better than it appears you do. I would never lower myself and sleep with a man whose affections are supposed to be engaged elsewhere. I chose him last night and will undoubtedly do so again. Excuse me.”
Nine
Richard moved to the steps of the terrace, prepared to risk Esme’s wrath by intervening in what appeared to be an argument between her and Meriwether. A burst of unexpected anger trickled through him that she’d been pushed so far as to be upset. The irony was not lost on him. Normally he was the one upsetting Esme, and that fact had never bothered him one bit in the past.
If Meriwether continued to aggravate Esme, he’d send him from the estate. The man had his chance with Esme and had thrown it away to marry the blandest debutante in the district.
Richard would not be so stupid.
After a moment, Esme headed toward the terrace steps and him. Although her face remained impassive, her steps were the clipped march of someone trying not to show her hurry. Richard had always been able to judge her anger fairly well. She was utterly furious.
Their eyes met and instead of caution, an unexpected jolt of lust struck him like a blow. Had he always been so affected by her or was it just because they’d been intimate once?
She stopped a pace away, near enough that he could reach out and haul her into his arms. He waited to see what she wanted first.
“Do you have a moment for private conversation, Lord Windermere?”
Gods, he hoped she wanted him for sex. He glanced at Meriwether and allowed a small territorial smile to spread over his face. “I am at your disposal immediately, my dear.”
“Good.”
She stepped around him and headed for a little-used entrance to his home through his open study doorway. Richard followed and, thinking she’d rather not have anyone overhear whatever came next, he closed and locked the doors. She was usually very expressive when angry, and even more so when she climaxed. “What did Meriwether say to you?”
As he turned, Esme pressed against him. “Enough of that fool.” She caught his head with one hand and dragged his face to hers for a deep, hungry kiss. Her passion stole his breath away and it took him a moment to respond. Unfortunately, that hesitation seemed to build a fire in her. He was shoved roughly backward until he all but fell into his desk chair.
Esme hiked up her skirts and settled astride his lap without preamble. “I don’t like to be stared at all the time.”
Uncertain what to make of this development, he gently placed his hands on her bottom to secure her to his lap. “I did not mean to do it.”
She made a little growl, much like a hungry cat on the hunt for an escaping mouse. She dug between them for the buttons of his trousers and practically ripped the garment open. When she slid her hand inside and curled her fingers around his cock, he groaned loudly.
Esme smiled wickedly and kissed him once. “Liar.”
With her tongue dancing across his lips and her hot little hand working to bring him erect, Richard had no power to resist and certainly no desire to stop her. He jostled her to shove his trousers lower off his hips and then dug under her gown to touch between her legs.
He moaned at the state he found her in. “You might not like me staring but I think you are incredibly aroused by me doing it.”
“I am frustrated.”
He was glad to have made any impression today, so he chuckled and nibbled her neck, earning a gasp. “I can accommodate yo
u,” he whispered. “I can give you exactly what you need and more.”
“You’d better.” She rose up and Richard grasped his length so she could impale herself. She moaned as he filled her. “Yes.”
He cupped her face, now flushed with heat and desire, and stared into her eyes, almost gray but rimmed by blue, he realized. She was incredibly kissable. “I’m starting to think you like me.”
“Oh, be quiet.” She closed her eyes and began to move.
Straddling his thighs as she was, it seemed a bit awkward at first to make love this way, so Richard grasped her hips to guide her. “Allow me.”
He lifted and lowered her on his length, driving himself toward crazed very quickly. Esme was unlike other woman he’d made love to. She aroused him so easily and now that he had her wrapped around him once more, he never wanted the moment to end.
He met her gaze as they made love to each other. Esme rocked and ground her sex against him as if she too had fallen under a spell, oblivious to anything but the passion curling around them. Richard kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he had last night and letting his hands fall from her hips so he could embrace her.
He needed her. Gods, he’d needed her for so long.
Esme continued her slow grind on his cock and he widened his legs a touch so she would have more of him. She groaned and buried her face against his neck. Her body quivered. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
Quickly, Richard touched her clitoris. The bud was large and when he rubbed it, Esme clutched him. She came apart with a sob muffled by his shoulder, quite unlike her throaty yell by the river last night but just as satisfying to his ears.
She lifted her head immediately, stared at him with dazed, heat-filled eyes and red, parted lips. Her pussy fluttered and squeezed around his length. When it happened again and again, he shuddered. If she could keep that up his release would be unavoidable. Her look alone would bring any man to his knees, but combined with her other talents he might not have any control where she was concerned.
Esme rose and he forced her back down as he filled her body with his seed on a hoarse shout.
Richard dragged her head to his shoulder again and she cuddled against him for a long moment while he caught his breath. “I must confess I’d hoped for another romp with you all morning, but that was entirely too quick. Maybe the chaise for a second round? As soon as I catch my breath I will carry you there and begin again properly.”
“There’s no need.”
Esme abruptly extracted herself from his embrace while he sat in stunned silence, trousers around his thighs, cock softening and exposed. When Esme wasn’t arguing with him, she was delightful in every respect. “I hadn’t minded holding you. That was lovely.”
Her expression when she looked at him was apologetic. “I don’t normally do that.”
He wanted to rejoice in her embarrassment but bit his lip to hold it in a moment longer. A flustered Esme was too amusing and rare. “Use men for sex when you’re angry?”
She nodded and he let loose a hearty chuckle. “I didn’t mind in the least,” he assured her. “In fact, you could do that to me again and again and I’d never complain. Hopefully, next time I can last a little longer. I am grateful it wasn’t me who irritated you so much though.”
“You did irritate me. But it was something Meriwether said that provoked me to,” she waved a hand in his direction, “do that.”
“Oh.” Richard stood and straightened his clothes. “What did the buffoon have to say for himself today?”
“He forgave me for falling for your charms and in the next breath assured me we could go on as usual when we return to London.”
“As I said—a buffoon.” Richard shook his head. “Your avoidance of married men is well known.”
She considered him a long time and then her eyes sparkled with amusement at last. “I am very glad you understand that. You have to marry soon so this must end before then.”
“Agreed.” He observed Esme. Intelligent, passionate, a perfectly poised woman in any situation, including arguments. Yes, passion with Esme was all very fine, but was anything more, deeper, out of the question?
He smiled at her as an idea took hold. “What would you say to a second romp out of doors? Are you adventurous enough to risk other people seeing us together in a compromising position?”
An excited gleam filled her eyes but then dimmed just as quickly. “Not today. I promised to meet with your sister and Harriet very soon.”
Disappointment filled him and then acceptance. He could wait. “Well, perhaps tomorrow you might come riding with me in the morning. There are a few things changed from your visit last year. I’d like to show you around the rest of the estate since you so clearly enjoy telling me what to do with my affairs.” He smirked just to annoy her.
She brushed aside his remark with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure your guests would enjoy the tour.”
“Just us, Esme. I would explore this peace between us fully while it lasts.”
She frowned then. “We can end things if you prefer. You should not neglect your guests.”
“Not yet.” He grinned and caught hold of her fingers. “Not when there is so much pleasure to be had with you. I should ask, rather than assume: Would you consider being mine for what remains of the house party?”
The corner of her mouth lifted into a wicked smile he’d grown to crave. She reached to his waist and, to his surprise, secured a button that had come undone on his waistcoat. “Well, I suppose I could tolerate your attentions a little longer.”
He smiled broadly and drew her into his arms one last time and nuzzled her neck, earning a gasp from her. Yes, definitely another bout was required today to dull the ache of want already returning. Perhaps they could meet tonight. “What if I come to regret this bargain of ours and want a longer affair?”
She drew back, hands rising to straighten his cravat into neat folds. Had he been that ruffled as to need his valet? Esme appeared utterly impeccable despite what they’d done on his chair. “I like a man who can keep his word.”
“I can.” But it would be so easy to continue to explore their mutual passion. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed each one. “My bedchamber or yours tonight?”
Her eyes flickered over his body. “Yours, but only so I might lie surrounded by Jillian’s beautiful art. That is the only reason to visit your room again.”
“Liar.” He kissed her lips, hard and greedily, anticipation for tonight’s adventure consuming him all at once. He smiled. “But a lovely one. You want me, admit it.”
She gifted him with a smile. “Perhaps I do. You show some talent.”
He laughed hard at that and sent her on her way before he proved on his settee just how talented he could be.
Ten
As Adrian and Carolyn Hill rode away, back toward the manor house and guests, Esme scowled at Windermere. “Why do you invite them to your estate if you don’t wish to spend time with them?”
“I invite them so she can visit with her family.”
She frowned. “They haven’t left the estate.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. My cousin is too busy dragging his wife from pillar to post furthering his acquaintance, from everyone in attendance at the balls to the tenant farmers.”
She had noticed that last night too, and wondered why the man was cozying up to so many of Windermere’s friends. She chose her next words with care. “Is it my imagination that Mr. Hill acts as if this will all be his one day?”
Windermere’s mount pranced and he took a moment to calm the animal. “He can wait until we’re dead first,” he bit out savagely.
Esme was surprised by the display of anger. “I didn’t suggest I agreed that he should.”
Richard stared at her and then shook his head. “Forgive me. I know I shouldn’t react but I’ve had it up to my ears with his hints and suggestions for how things should be done. Let’s ride.”
He kicked his mount ahead and Esme fo
llowed, her mare keeping pace with Windermere’s larger beast fairly well. She enjoyed riding here. The vistas were beautiful, the air fresh and clean. A far cry from the pace and stench of London.
To be honest, she hadn’t found anything about this visit that she’d have different, save for having to look at Meriwether over the dinner table each night. She’d been blind to his faults, his ambition to marry into the ton and elevate his family to new heights. It had become obvious to her now when she considered the matter with a calmer head that Meriwether had chosen a young woman who’d grant him what she couldn’t: a way into the best circles and the offspring she could never have.
However, once she wasn’t looking at her former lover, Esme didn’t think of him again until the next meal came around. But she would never let such a situation happen to her again, and would choose her future lovers with more care and consider their likely ambitions before becoming intimately involved.
Windermere eventually reined in, a fair distance from the manor. He turned his mount in a wide arc and then fell in beside her. “Discussion of the succession annoys me.”
“I did notice that.” She cleared her throat. “You don’t need me to suggest what must be done.”
“I must marry.” His grip tightened noticeably on the reins. “I know it.”
At his age, he’d better marry soon. “Do you want my advice or should I keep my thoughts to myself?”
He glanced at her with a smile. “I’d rather hear them today than be surprised later.”
“Lady Alice Beauchamp.”
His brows shot up. “Who is that?”
“She is a widow, a mother of two small girls. She has a passing acquaintance with your sister and is very kind and responsible. She might be young, but she has proven herself as a wife and mother.”
He stared at her for a long time. “By bearing daughters?”
“Yes,” Esme murmured, remembering the quiet little girls she’d met during the season. Windermere needed a son though. “The getting of an heir is up to fate unfortunately and cannot be predicted, but while her fortune is of no great consequence, her connections are excellent. She has the makings of a perfect countess for you.”
