Her Husband’s Lover

by Madelynne Ellis

  ‘Aye, but I was already aware of an arrangement being struck between Lyle and Father. Unless I’m mistaken, Father has had no such talk with either of the gentlemen you’ve mentioned. It was fine looking in upon them the other night, but you know very well what they are all like now.’

  Amelia gave an unladylike snort. ‘As I said – no fun at all.’ They reached the door to Emma’s chamber and Emma turned towards it, but to her dismay Amelia didn’t continue along the passageway but lingered by her shoulder.

  ‘What is it? I’m weary now.’

  ‘There’s another reason I wish to go. I overheard father talking to Mr Connelly, and apparently there are another two gentlemen staying over at Field Cottage with Jack the Lamp. I think it would be well-mannered of us to go and see them.’

  ‘You’ve thought long and hard about that statement, haven’t you?’ Emma smothered her wrath with a yawn. She didn’t believe Amelia cared one jot for who the men were. She knew her sister well enough. No, Amelia’s primary motive was to catch a glimpse or three of their guests stripped out of their shirts, proving their manliness. ‘Dear heart, I don’t think it a wise idea at all. I know what you’re trying to do.’

  ‘Find someone to take me away from this dreary place,’ Amelia responded brightly. She placed a hand on one hip, which only riled Emma a little more. ‘Can’t we stay up and talk a little more? You know I have questions about things, and I think it quite uncivilised of you to keep them from me. You don’t want me to head down the aisle with a head full of fluff, do you? Oughtn’t I to know a little of what goes on in the bedchamber?’

  ‘Amelia Hill, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but I know what Aunt Maude would say if you were to go on like this while she were here. Now, it’s gone midnight.’ The library clock began to chime at that very moment. Its mellow tone echoed loudly up the stairs. ‘Please, go to bed and let me do the same. Ask Father at breakfast what he thinks of you accompanying him. I don’t think it appropriate and neither would Aunt Maude, but it’s not up to me. Don’t imagine that I’ll go with you, though, for I shan’t. I don’t like to watch them fighting. I’d much rather see a man finely dressed in his shirt and cravat than scrambling about like a savage.’

  More white lies, she scolded herself inwardly. Considering what she’d been envisaging all day, her mind was not so very pure.

  With a snort of vexation, Amelia finally stormed away along the corridor. Emma watched her go until all she could discern was the flicker of the candle her sister bore. She wished she could offer Amelia some genuine advice, but what could she say? She had no more experience of men than Amelia, perhaps even less.

  Emma turned and grasped the cold doorknob. Light streamed from beneath the door frame, across which a shadow passed. Emma hesitated. She knew it couldn’t be Lyle. She’d called goodnight to him in the billiards room just before she and Amelia had climbed the stairs. Possibly it was Lyle’s valet, although normally he relied upon the man to dress rather than disrobe him. She didn’t believe it to be one of the maids either. They all knew her habits well enough.

  A frown creased her brow as Darleston’s last words to her echoed through her mind. Had he come to her room? What game was he playing with her? Had he arranged a rendezvous here with Lyle to which she was to be privy? Or had he come with some other form of entertainment in mind?

  To her surprise, when she stepped within, the only light came from the fireplace. No one appeared to be lingering in its glow, but Lyle’s bed things were laid out upon the righthand side of the quilt. Her nightshift occupied the left. Emma set her own flame down upon the mantel. Imagination and wishful thinking were getting the better of her again. In the narrow wedge of heat from the blaze, Emma unpinned the bib-front of her dress and began working upon the knot in her sash. Nothing would come of Lyle’s promise. It was patently ridiculous to think it would. They couldn’t act like that within the house. People would overhear. They would know, and she was worldly enough to realise that what she’d witnessed them doing was a crime. But crime or not, the roll and slap of their bodies still intrigued her.

  It was only as she glanced up, having stepped out of her dress and caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror, that she realised she wasn’t alone. Her breath caught. She swirled on the spot, clutching her discarded dress to her chest. Darleston stood in the doorway that led onto the balcony. His gaze swept across her, bringing heat like the brush of a warm sirocco to her skin. She tried to find adequate words for her distress but stumbled over them. Darleston waited patiently, leaning against the inner ornamental curtains of the bay as if he intended to gauge whether she would scream before he made another move.

  Emma closed her mouth.

  He still wore the clothes she’d seen him in at dinner: a vivid bottle-green coat with a black collar and deep cuffs, all spun from a thick, soft fabric that captured the light as he moved.

  ‘Our assignation was for midnight, was it not?’

  ‘I did not agree to meet you, or invite you here.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, shocking her, for she’d expected an argument. ‘We left those aspects unsaid. Shall I add that Lyle invited me here? He seemed to think that there was entertainment to be had in the three of us gathering.’

  ‘He’s not here,’ she said, stating the obvious, for how could he be without passing her? Unless he had found a way to fly up onto the balcony.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll join us in a moment or three.’

  Emma didn’t appreciate the delay. She needed Lyle here, now, to make this safe and somehow acceptable. She’d be branded a slattern if Darleston were discovered in her room, and Lyle would become a laughing-stock. A cuckolded man rarely retained any respect amongst his peers. No one would understand that that wasn’t what Darleston’s presence was about.

  He emerged out of the shadows, closing the door onto the balcony quietly behind him. Emma stepped back out of reach when he joined her upon the hearthrug. ‘I’ve seen a night-rail or two in my time, you needn’t hide over that. Grab a wrapper if you wish, though I must say that the pale colour suits you. There’s an overabundance of trimming on that dress you’ve taken off. You should take the bows off the front, and abandon that hopelessly stuffy fichu-and-lace cap.’

  ‘Are you always so incredibly rude?’ She shook her head. ‘No, you weren’t to me the first evening, but I suppose it was different then. You didn’t know who I was.’

  ‘I wouldn’t claim to know you now, though in time I hope to.’ He reached out to her, but she backed away again.

  ‘Is it my touch that offends you, or just anyone’s?’

  ‘I’m sure Lyle’s made you aware of my preferences.’

  ‘I think you’d be surprised at what Lyle has said. Or maybe not.’ A smile teased the corner of his lips. ‘He has orchestrated this all for you.’

  ‘There’s pleasure for him in it. He wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.’

  Darleston considered. ‘Mayhaps … there may well be that … but Lyle isn’t here yet, and it’s not his role in this that fascinates me. Why do you want to watch us, Emma? What do you hope to get out of it?’

  When her mouth fell open again in shock, he dismissed her outrage with a turn of his wrist. ‘Let’s not mince words over why we’re here. I think it’ll be simpler for everybody if we dispense with coyness. Why is it you wish to watch me fuck your husband? What incentive has led you to this point?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘What I mean –’ He took another step, closing in on her and trapping her. Emma stared up at him in alarm. He was too close. She sensed the outline of his body as though he were pressing against her. Darleston’s smile broadened so that she could see his teeth. ‘What I mean is that I don’t think you really wish to watch at all. I think you’d like to do, but you can’t. Leastways, you don’t believe you can.’

  ‘What in heavens do you imagine I want to do?’

  ‘That I’m not altogether certain of. I could hazard a gu
ess or two, but really I’m not sure if it’s Lyle or myself you’re more interested in. Maybe it’s both. If one can’t satisfy then two surely can. The idea is not so very uncommon. Is that it, Emma? Would you like to bed down between us?’

  ‘I don’t want either of you to touch me. I beg you, don’t come any closer.’

  ‘Hm.’ He gave a swift nod of the head. ‘No contact. I understand perfectly, but you didn’t really answer the question.’

  Nor was she going to, for the mere mention of such an idea had planted the possibility in her brain, and it burned there like volcanic lava, bubbling, flowing and conjuring up fantastical images of three bodies entwined and filled with rapture.

  ‘I guess we shall just wait for Lyle,’ he said in response to her prolonged silence. He turned on his heel and strode over to the bed, where he perched near the footboard with his arms folded over the top of the wood. After a moment he rested his chin, and then his cheek, against the grain.

  The knots in Emma’s guts gradually unwound. Darleston hadn’t done her any harm, even if he had pried into her personal business as if it was a perfectly commonplace thing to do. He also had a point about her dress. It was a frumpy old thing. Amelia chastised her for it, Lyle called it her silly old sack dress, even her father, who had no interest in ladies’ haberdashery, had commented on the excess of lace wrapped around her throat. ‘Makes you look as if you’ve lost your bosom,’ her cousin, Charles Aubrey, had once remarked. Of course, almost everything he said related to bosoms.

  Emma cast the dress over the dressing-table stool and retrieved her wrapper from the armoire. Darleston hadn’t moved. She thought she sensed him watching her, but his eyes were shut. Inexplicably, Emma felt herself drawn closer. It wasn’t only the dress he’d been right about; almost everything he said was true. She was interested in him – how could she deny it after her fantasy of yestereve, when she’d imagined touching every part of him, had drifted so deeply into the romance of him that she’d fantasised about not only touching but sucking his cock.

  And of going further than that too …

  She’d grown so aroused that her inhibitions had fled.

  Still, all that was inside her head. She never intended it to happen for real. She just wanted to relive the excitement of watching the men. Anything more was quite unnecessary.

  As she drew a little closer to the bed, Darleston opened his eyes. He gazed up at her but remained still. Minutes seemed to stretch into infinity. The candle burned low, and she was forced to light another. ‘He’s not coming, is he? He just sent you here, because he thinks –’ She shook her head, not wanting to finish the thought. What in heavens did Lyle think? Had he decided that her avoidance of his touch was purely because of some physical aversion and that it would be simply overcome by setting her up with his lover instead? It would not. The thought of Darleston’s hands upon her raised a shiver. Her nipples stiffened as she imagined the slow swirl of his finger drawn in circles around one erect point.

  ‘He thinks he’s giving you something you want,’ Darleston remarked.

  ‘But he’s wrong. I told him that I only wanted to watch.’ Panic filled her voice. Emma wrung her hands together and paced. ‘I told him. You see that, don’t you? How could he even have thought otherwise? Why would he suppose –?’

  Darleston flipped onto his feet. ‘It’s only been a minute or two. Maybe he thought it important to give us some time. This is a little awkward for me too, Emma. It’s not my habit to let people watch me make love. An audience is never something I’ve sought. And my recent experiences with women have not been entirely happy.’

  ‘Your wife?’

  ‘Is not nearly so understanding.’ He cast around into the shadowy corners. ‘Is there anything to drink in here?’

  ‘I believe Lyle keeps some brandy in the decanter.’ Emma waved him towards the side-table, which held a set of three stoppered vessels. Darleston sniffed at them all and then poured a glass. Instead of consuming the contents, he offered it to her.

  ‘Take this. It’ll steady your nerves. I want you to be comfortable, because then I will be too.’ He gave her one of those elongated smiles of his that was somehow nervewracking, debauched and charming all at once. ‘Let’s sit and talk this through. Set some boundaries, perhaps?’ He settled on the hearthrug before the fire, his long legs stretched out and his coat-tails crushed beneath him.

  Emma took a tentative sip from the glass, and then swallowed a larger mouthful. The alcohol poured fire into her veins, but did nothing at all for her jitters.

  ‘Come where it’s warm,’ he said. ‘I won’t bite.’

  If only you would … ‘You bit Lyle.’ She immediately covered her mouth.

  Darleston nodded. ‘Aye, I did, but only because he wished it. He bit me too.’ Slowly he unwound his cravat and released the fastening of his shirt so that the neck gaped open, revealing the bruise upon his throat and the pale delight of his chest.

  ‘Why do that to one another? Surely it hurts.’ The brown and red speckled mark certainly looked sore.

  ‘I find the line between pleasure and pain is a very fine one. Walking its precipice is a delight that’s hard to describe. Yes, it hurt, but in a good way.’

  ‘And when he entered you?’

  He briefly troubled his top lip with his teeth. ‘The sensations are akin, yes.’ He folded his legs beneath him as Emma hunched down on the opposite side of the fire. How could he speak so frankly without a hint of embarrassment? Her cheeks were burning and her sexual peccadilloes were hardly being discussed.

  By firelight, he was quite the most lovely creature. The burnished copper of his hair tumbled around his face like threads of fire, while the shadows softened the harder ridges of his jaw and nose. Again she felt drawn, as she had when looking at him through the library window on the night of his arrival. The palms of her hands itched with the need to reach out and make contact.

  ‘Did somebody hurt you, Emma? Is that why you won’t let anyone close?’

  Aghast, she stared at him. ‘No. Good Lord, no! No one hurt me. Why would you think that?’

  ‘Because most women do not tremble if you so much as brush past them.’

  ‘Nobody hurt me,’ she repeated, focusing on the knot she’d made with her fists rather than the kindliness in his face. What in heavens did he imagine to have occurred? ‘I have my reasons. Not that I feel any need to discuss them. All I need to know is whether you’ll respect them.’

  ‘It’s hard to respect something you don’t understand, but assuming I manage it?’

  ‘Then I shall respect that you and Lyle are intimate together and I shall make no demands or cause any fuss over it. I shall do nothing to endanger you.’

  Darleston drew his hand through his hair and looked into the blaze a moment. ‘Where do you fit into that equation of longing?’ he asked after a moment of quiet consideration. ‘I can hear the need in your voice. You don’t want to pack us off to do the deed in private. We wouldn’t be here now if that were the case. So make some demands. State clearly what you actually want and I’ll do my best to oblige.’

  Dear Lord, why did he have to be reasonable? Why was he even prepared to indulge her in this? And why did the hum of his voice thread her veins with hunger? Emma looked at him, not seeing him as he was, but as she’d imagined him on the chaise longue – supine, obliging, still and yet aroused by her caress. But she couldn’t speak her thoughts. They would only arouse ideas that were simply best not explored.

  ‘I don’t want anything. I don’t –’ Her voice broke off.

  Darleston moved so that he was on his knees before her, his expression soft and, dare she admit it, affectionate. ‘Well, if you think of anything … you know you’ve only to ask.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Darleston rolled backwards off his knees and onto his feet. His hearing was perhaps sharper than Emma’s for the bedchamber door opened at that moment to admit Lyle. ‘You’re late,’ Darleston remarked, the softness that had
infused his words now replaced by a huskier, more sexual tone.

  ‘One of us has to stay up to see the guests safely to their beds.’

  ‘Did Father retire early again?’ Emma asked, rising to her feet despite Lyle waving her back to her former position.

  ‘He did, which was no great surprise. And Aiken and Heath are now securely ensconced too. There should be no disturbances.’

  Of course, now that Lyle had arrived matters would progress. She’d only just become accustomed to Darleston’s presence and begun to relax. Now her heart thundered again and her jaw locked tight with tension. I’ve seen them before. I asked for this. Just relax. No one would touch her. She’d be like a shadow, clawing at the edges of the room, but apart from their activity.

  ‘I’m afraid Emma has not been entirely forthcoming with regard to what she desires of us,’ Darleston remarked. ‘I’m not sure at all how we’re to provide satisfaction.’

  ‘I want nothing for myself. I told you that.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure that’s entirely true, but I’ll humour you this once.’

  Her opinion of Darleston changed in that moment, but only for a moment. How dare he presume to know her? How could he read her so easily? How could he know what she truly desired? Because he did, she sensed it, saw it in the depths of his shiny dark eyes. He recognised that watching two men fornicate was not her true desire, merely a mask for what she really craved – his companionship, his touch.

  I can’t do it. It’ll never be.

  Lyle stooped and retrieved Darleston’s discarded cravat. ‘’Tis lucky then that I remember what you asked for, madam wife. I don’t think I shall ever forget it. You asked to see me fucked, did you not? You wished to watch while Robert swived my arse.’

  Emma sank back onto the rug, the strength gone from her limbs. Why did this have to be so blunt and open? She ought to have said that she wished to spy, to remain hidden while they performed the act.