She hid a smile. As if this man was ever likely to fade away! A more vibrant individual she had yet to meet. Despite two strong doses of laudanum a day, he emanated an inner strength she envied.
He covered her hand with his. “What are you thinking behind that mask of serenity?”
Surprised, she tried to ease her hand from his. Unable to dislodge it, she told the truth. “That you don’t look like someone who is going to fade away.”
He still wouldn’t release her hand. In one way, she was pleased. It felt... good. Right.
He gave her a crooked little smile that sent her heart galloping. Then, suddenly, his gaze pinned her like an insect to a board. “Have we been married only three weeks, my dear? Or, since you never answered me, perhaps we’re not really married at all?”
Diavolo! He was back to that! Again, she’d misjudged him, thinking his doubts were allayed and that he’d be too tired to continue his interrogation. He’d lulled her into thinking his thoughts had turned amorous.
What was she to say? She truly didn’t want to impede his chances of recovering his memory by telling him they were strangers.
Ignoring his first question, she said, “Don’t be silly. Of course we’re married.” A warm flush suffused her whole body, from top to bottom, at the falsehood. This was the first time she had voiced the lie outright! She was going to hell!
“That’s good, because I want to do things with you that only a husband should do with his wife.” His hand went to her nape pulling her head to his. One finger brushed a soft caress across her rosy cheek and he stared into her eyes. “Your eyes are beautiful. Burnt umber. I must have told you that countless times since we’ve known each other.”
“No...er...I-...” There she was, stuttering again. She had cured herself of that affliction years ago! She threw him a coy look. “Not in just that way.”
He drew her nearer still and placed tender lips against hers, gently probing.
She didn’t resist. Couldn’t! The melting sensation inside was turning her ever-so-practical brain to mush. They seemed to be breathing each other’s air....
She allowed him to draw her up against his hard body. She steadied herself by laying her palms against his chest.
He clasped her neck with his large hand, leaning her head back to give him access to her mouth.
His lips were soft, so soft… as they brushed lightly against her.
…and warm, so warm… as they settled more firmly on hers.
…and magical…so very magical.
Irresistible.
His arms drew her deeper into his embrace. Closer to his heated skin. Skin? Where had his shirt gone? Had she taken it off or had he?
Suddenly, she was straining against him. Her hands glided up and along the breadth of his smooth shoulders, sliding around his neck to hold on, while his talented hands molded her to him like a sculptor shaping a marble couple, writhing together eternally in carnal concupiscence.
Never had her body dominated her head, her whole being, like this.
No, it wasn’t her body doing the conquering. It was the pleasure. Pleasure at his blazing touch. Wondrous tinglings taking over her body, throbbings that threatened to seduce her very soul.
His hands were playing an enchanting melody of desire as they danced across her skin. Cooler air flowed across her breasts an instant before he graced one turgid mound with his lapping tongue.
He’d undone her dress! And she hadn’t even noticed! Instinct told her to cover herself with her hands, but all she wanted to do was thrust her chest out further, closer to that tantalizing mouth that was creating such havoc inside. His mouth left her breast, and she whimpered at the loss, only to sigh in satisfaction when he swirled his clever tongue around the nipple of her other breast.
She’d noticed again how large his hands were. One of them slid down her side to clasp her buttocks and it was as if it took possession of her entire bottom.
She moaned in harmony with his groan of pleasure when he pressed her firmly against his hard arousal. She almost swooned at the giddy feeling that shimmered through every part of her. Liquid compliance seeped through her bones, creating a hum of awareness, sending excited shivers flowing through her.
She ached for him to peel away her clothes and worship her entire body with his hot, silky lips. To whisper outrageous murmurings into her eager ear.
“You are so beautiful. Your breasts fill my hands perfectly.”
Heavens! Had she spoken aloud? It was as if he’d heard her yearnings.
He lifted her tighter against him. She held him close and pressed mindlessly against his hardness. She was so caught up in the wild whirlwind, she never noticed his hand slowly lifting her skirt.
“I want to caress your naked curves.” His husky voice sent quivers scooting along her nerves. His hand swept up the back of her thigh to caress her bare behind.
She shivered from tip to toe.
“Your skin is soft and velvety. And you’re so very responsive to my every touch, sweetheart.” An inquisitive finger sought entrance to the core of her passion. “Ah…so wet.”
Startled, she began to pull back, but his lips captured hers in another ardent kiss that made her swoon, too dizzy to protest his bold actions. She was caught up in a maelstrom of gasps and moans while his finger worked its magic, stimulating sensitive spots she hadn’t even known she possessed. Like a master artist, his clever digit stroked her inner skin, flinging her mind, body, her very soul into blissful trembling. Her body began to jerk and arch higher, closer… a thrumming, searing sensation crept across her whole nether region, sending her soaring.
A high keening sound startled her. It took her more than a few moments to realize it came from her.
He quickly stifled it by the simple expedient of covering her mouth in yet another ravenous kiss, the fingers of his other hand threaded tightly through her hair.
A loud thud outside the door didn’t impinge on her consciousness at first, but she heard the second sound— a jangling of keys—and it jerked her sharply back to the realization of where she was and what they were doing.
Scalding heat rushed to her face. She stiffened in his arms and instinctively blocked his tender caresses with her arms.
“No, love. Don’t stop now. We’re so close…”
“Please,” she pleaded, unable to look him in the eyes. He resisted for a few fraught seconds then, wordlessly, loosened his hold. She swiftly pushed herself away from him and slid off the sofa.
She held onto a chair to steady herself for a moment. But at the third loud thud, she hurried across the room to the large, ornately framed mirror hanging on the wall. She spent a few moments straightening her hair and fixing her dress. When no one entered the room, she pulled her shoulders back, drew in a shaky breath and, walked toward the door, only then recalling it was locked.
Reed’s eyes followed her and he waited, hoping she’d turn around and smile at him before leaving the room, give him some sign he hadn’t just dreamt that extraordinary, erotic episode.
Vain hope.
She kept her face firmly turned away as she glided quietly out the door.
That damn butler again! Reed was thrumming with frustration and anger. He didn’t believe it! How many times could that … that bulldog! break up what were fast becoming intoxicating interludes with Talia?
He wanted to call her back, but knew that would only agitate her further. For some reason, his wife didn’t want the old man to know she was on intimate terms with her husband.
What the hell did Foster think a married couple did?
His wife wasn’t used to being married, he told himself. It had been less than three weeks, and most of this past week he’d been unconscious, deadened by drugs, and without a memory. And by all accounts, he’d left her immediately following the ceremony to conduct some mysterious business. No wonder she was still so shy.
They’d probably been together physically less than three or four times since they were married. He
wished he could recall those first times. Hell, he wished he could remember just one time. His little wife was fast becoming an obsession, like a fever in his blood.
He worked to compose himself, to allow his painful arousal time to accept it wasn’t going to be satisfied today. Maybe it was better this way. What woman wants to make love with a man who doesn’t remember her? Can’t even recall their wedding or the courting that led up to it?
What if he never recalled his past? Dread filled him. But he had to face it. He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head.
How would that work? She’d still have memories of the man he had been, when she had presumably first been attracted to him, while he would learn to…. No, he had already learned to care for the woman he was eager to know all over again.
But to marry so quickly! Theirs must have been a powerful love-at-first-sight!
Or was that the trouble? Was that why he had a bullet wound? Had theirs been a gunshot wedding? Literally! Had he ruined her and had to pay the price for it? It was hard to believe he’d have to be forced to do anything with Talia. Maybe that was why she wouldn’t tell him. She was hoping he’d never remember.
Or perhaps one of her jealous suitors shot him. That, he could believe.
He was desperate to get his memory back so he’d remember every moment they’d spent together. He wanted to clear up the confusion that was churning inside his gut. The way their bodies reacted to each other, it was obvious they had been strongly attracted to each other from the start. He must have always had a hard time keeping his hands off of her. He certainly did now.
Since he’d awakened without his memory, they hadn’t done much touching, except for the few dazzling kisses he’d managed to coax out of her and then just now. She seemed oddly innocent for a married woman, almost virginal. She shied away from him, as if afraid.
Think of it, he told himself. It’s only been a few weeks. He stood up unsteadily. And she was quite young. Of course, if he’d seduced her that might explain it. He found he didn’t like to think he’d taken advantage of an innocent, nor did he want to think she was unhappy about their marriage.
It all sounded very foreign to the man he felt he was inside. Surely lack of memory can’t have someone feeling like a totally different person than what they think they were… are?
Or did her determination to maintain a distant attitude have something to do with his gunshot wound? If he was involved in something dangerous, she might have decided it was wiser to keep a safe distance from him.
He could understand that.
He poked his head out the door and was glad to find the hall deserted. He intended to have a man-to-man talk with Foster — about his interference. Right now, though, he didn’t feel up to it.
He waited, knowing the butler would soon appear to help him make his way upstairs to his room. His mind went back to his earlier musings about their marriage. What had he been thinking, to leave a woman like Talia, while he was off gadding about?
Well, no longer. He had plenty of wasted time to make up for! This accident had knocked sense into his head. Literally. And he was going to make the most of this second chance.
Chapter Twelve
Tally walked briskly into her room, shut the door, and leaned back against it.
She couldn’t go downstairs! Not yet. Foster would know, right away, what she’d been doing. She was hopeless at hiding her emotions. A few moments in her room to breathe and make her hands and legs stop shaking, and then she’d be fine.
She felt like banging her head against the door, she felt so cheated. She pressed a hand against her mons. She hadn’t known it could throb like this. Goodness! She snatched it away and held it to her chest. Look at what he had her doing!
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Was this why her sisters had turned foolish the minute they’d met their future husbands?
Trembling fingers brushed over her swollen lips. They felt different. They still tingled from his intoxicating kisses.
What kind of magic had he spun to bewitch her?
Coming away from the door, she moved her shoulders in circles to dispel the tension there. She wanted to blame him for what had just happened… but that would be dishonest. She hadn’t protested enough.
Enough? She hadn’t protested at all! She’d participated fully. It’d be unfair to be angry with him for...
For what? For behaving like any husband would?
And really, nothing much had happened. Well, nothing irretrievable.
The man had no idea he was not her husband. He believed he was perfectly justified in doing what he’d started and hoped to finish.
She’d never realized just how precarious a position she had put herself in by involving herself in this deception. Crossing the room to her mirror, she checked her hair. Her cheeks were still a little too rosy. She inhaled a deep lungful of air and slowly blew it out. Then, another.
Dr. Graham had not anticipated such a complication when he’d insisted she maintain this lie.
Reed believed he had the right to do anything to her!
Worse, she was no longer sure she wanted to refuse him!
But no matter how charming her sham husband appeared, she must not forget this was the man who had climbed a wall into her bedroom, possibly intending to kill her.
* * *
“Who the hell is this Mason, this so-called friend of my wife’s brothers?” Reed asked Foster who had accompanied him back to his room after the morning meal the next day. It irked him to have the old fossil escorting him upstairs as if he were an invalid, but he still wasn’t steady on his feet. Like the blind leading the blind.
He’d gone down to breakfast expecting to have an intimate tête-a-tête with his wife, only to find they had a guest, a tall Scottish Corinthian.
He hadn’t objected when Mrs. P had arrived. They needed the help, and she was a good cook. The added bonus was that she kept him abreast of activities in the house. She was a welcome addition, but this calm, composed, far too handsome — though a bit bran-faced to match his copper locks — man, who sat there paying rapt attention to Talia during the meal, was not who he wanted living in the house.
“Don’t distress yourself about Mr. Mason, sir. It’s like Missy said, he’s a friend of the twins…”
“Twins?”
“Miss Tally’s brothers are twins, sir.”
“Oh. Did I…? I guess I must have known that before…” This no memory business was weighing heavily on his spirits. While small bits of his prior recollections were coming back to him, the important things continued to elude him. “You were saying…” he prompted the butler, who looked a little confused. “about Mason?”
“Oh, yes, well nothing much more to say about him, sir. Being that he’s a good friend of Masters Anthony and Alexander’s, Missy says he is welcome to visit us whenever he pleases.”
“I see.” Indeed, he did see. Too well. That wretch, under guise of friendship with her brothers, was no doubt bent on wooing Talia. Well, Reed did not intend to lose his wife’s affections, especially while he was at less than his best. He was going to keep an eye on this Mason.
“May I be of further help, sir?” The manservant was shifting from leg to leg, unable to disguise his discomfort.
“Maybe later. I need to get something to read in the library?” At the butler’s nod, he continued, “I notice you’re having more trouble than usual with your legs today, Foster.”
“It’s the blasted damp, sir. Makes me legs ache something awful.”
“I can help you with that.” He pointed to the ladderback chair. “Why don’t you sit while I explain how.”
“Oh no, sir, that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“To hell with appropriate. I can teach you to do something with your legs that will help them move better and ache less.”
“You can?”
Reed heard the hope in the old fellow’s voice and saw that he was tempted. He was such a stickler and disapproved of R
eed. He must be in terrible pain to even contemplate allowing him to help. “Here, let me show you.”
* * *
“Traitor!” Tally raised a mocking eyebrow. They were in the library the next afternoon, their usual spot for their confabulations. She’d been trying to get Foster alone since seeing him with Reed yesterday but, for once, he’d been illusive.
“Missy!” He sounded hurt. “How can ye accuse me of that?”
“I saw you. In his room. You were leaning, face forward, hands against the window sill, grunting. He was holding one of your legs out straight behind you.” Curious but not wanting him to think she was checking up on him, she teased, “Were you rehearsing for the ballet?”
“Har har har.” His sarcastic laugh meant that he was annoyed she’d found out about whatever they were doing. That made her even more curious. “I thought he was hurting you and almost rushed in to rescue you. Then I heard him say, ‘Now, your other leg’ and you switched legs. What were you doing?”
Reluctantly, he explained. “Yon... er... Mr. Leighton lived in a place — he can’t remember the name — where he was taught how to relieve muscles when they were sore and he was teaching me what to do to lessen the pain I get in my legs.”
“Oh.” She was surprised… and suspicious. Why did Reed suddenly want to help Foster who, from the first, had never hidden his reluctance to help ‘yon Gordon’, as he was so fond of calling their uninvited guest? “And did it help?” She tried to wipe away all traces of sulkiness from her tone. Not that she resented Foster learning how to decrease his pain, but did that man have to start winning over her most loyal ally in the world? She completely ignored the fact that he was doing his best to win her over too.
“Too soon to tell, though they feel looser somehow, not as tight. He said to do some of them ‘leg stretches’ every day and I should feel less pain.”
“Humph” she said. She couldn’t very well find fault with that. She knew how her aging retainer suffered.
He grinned knowingly and she realized whose grumpy sound she’d just borrowed. Then he sobered. “I know I’ve already asked, Miss Tally, but can we be sure yon husband there isn’t responsible for the troubles you’ve been experiencing?” He asked in an undertone, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder toward the door.
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 15
