His expression became serious. “Perhaps it would be politic to accept one. Tea with Mrs. Snidely, I think. She is a born gossip who will delight in broadcasting her opinions about you to the neighborhood, along with everything she can learn about us.”
Everything? Dorothea blanched. How amazingly humiliating. But their marital discord would be kept a secret. It was the way of the nobility. Dragging her eyes away from his, she said, “I’ll leave it to your judgment to decide about the invitations.”
“Very good.”
She clasped her hands firmly in front of her. The silence between them hung heavy. Dorothea could see the muscle in his jaw flexing as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Such a handsome, strong jaw.
“Since Mrs. Simpson has already shown you the house, I could take you on a tour of the estate.” He hesitated. “I assume you ride?”
“Hmm.” The noncommittal answer seemed safest. She did ride, though not very well and generally at a snail’s pace. One glance at her husband’s strong thighs had Dorothea assuming his skill far exceeded hers. He would not be impressed when he saw her on a horse.
“I need to change into my riding habit,” she mentioned, hoping that would put him off the idea. Men hated to be kept waiting while a woman changed her clothing.
“I’ll meet you in the stables when you are ready,” he answered. “I need time to consult with my stable master on which mount will be yours when we are in residence.”
Neatly trapped, Dorothea had no choice but to agree. She took as long a time as she dared to change, then presented herself at the stables. The pleasant scent of horses and leather surrounded her the moment she entered. Not surprisingly, the stables were kept in pristine condition. Carter introduced her to Jack Kenny, the stable master. Middle-aged, with a trim build and a weather-beaten complexion, he was a short man who smiled often.
At his command, one of the younger grooms led a horse from the stall to the mounting block. Dorothea’s heart sank. The horse looked enormous. Tall, sleek, and prancing with energy. He seemed the kind of horse that would excel at leading a cavalry charge. She knew without a doubt if she tried riding him, she’d fall on her backside before they left the courtyard.
“What is his name?” she asked the groom as he put a sidesaddle on the horse’s back and began to cinch the straps.
“El Diablo, my lady.”
The devil? Carter had chosen a devil horse for her to ride? Obviously he expected her to be a dashing, hell-bent rider. He probably imagined them charging across the fields together, laughing, racing, jumping streams, fences, and hedges. Her spirits plummeted further. Was this yet another thing she would fail at so dismally as his wife?
“If you prefer, you can ride with me,” Carter offered.
Dorothea’s head snapped up, suspicions forming in her mind. One gaze at his face and she knew the truth. His innocent expression did not fool her for an instant. She would bet her last farthing that the stables were filled with much gentler, far more appropriate mounts for her to ride.
“Your horse hardly looks tame,” she retorted, eyeing the great black beast as he snorted and pranced about the stable yard, presenting a great challenge to the strong groom who was holding his reins.
“Caesar is a well-trained brute,” Carter responded with a fond tone. “Large enough to easily carry us both on a leisurely ride.”
“He seems all spirit and temper,” she said, unsure how she felt at Carter’s attempt to manipulate her. It was a relief not to have to try to prove her equestrian skills, since they were so limited, and yet she had some pride.
“Under the right conditions, Caesar is as gentle as a lamb.” Carter’s eyes measured her. “Come and say hello to him.”
Dorothea approached the horse. He looked at her curiously, but stayed quietly in place. She reached out and slowly stroked his neck. He reared his head, swished his tail, and blew through his nose. She turned back to El Diablo. Pride or no pride, the choice was clear.
“I suppose I shall try my luck with you on Caesar.”
The charming smile Carter bestowed upon her reached his eyes. She was still fighting to regain her breath when he put his hands on her waist and easily lifted her onto the front of his saddle. Then he swung up behind her and placed one arm tightly around her midriff. “Is this better?”
“It is, as you well know,” she answered primly.
He bent his head and touched his lips to her ear. “At least give me credit for discovering a way to hold you in my arms.”
She was trying to think of a snappy retort when he tightened the circle of his embrace, forcing her back against his front. She was now surrounded by his muscular arms, his strong, hard body at her back. A wave of pleasure washed over her, and Dorothea felt a sense of security unlike anything she had ever known. It warmed her body, but also her heart.
All thoughts of being prim and distant flew out of her head. She took a deep breath and sank deeper into the curve of his warm strength. She settled her shoulders against his chest and tucked her gloved hands around his forearm.
“Ready?”
She could hear the amusement in his voice. Turning, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Not too fast, please. I should hate to topple off and drag you down with me.”
A teasing light danced in the depths of his eyes. “I have not fallen off a horse since I was seven years old. But I assure you, dear wife, if something does go amiss, I will endeavor to make certain that I take the full brunt of the impact and have you land on top of me.”
Dorothea squeezed the hard, solid strength of arm. “You are hardly a soft cushion, my lord.”
He shifted behind her, adjusting his position so that her hips nestled tightly against his thighs. Dorothea stiffened, but then she forced herself to relax and let the sensations flow around her. They set off at a brisk pace.
The warmth and strength of Carter’s body pressing against hers coupled with the undulating motion of the horse mimicked far too well the rhythm of making love. A memory that might have agitated and distressed her, but instead it slowly began to awaken her desire.
She heard Carter’s breathing change, turning deep and quick. Wicked, sensual thoughts formed in her mind. For an instant she allowed herself to consider the ridiculous impulse that swirled in her head—was it possible to make love while riding on a horse?
“Pardon?”
His breathless voice startled her and her entire body went rigid. Saints above, did I speak those thoughts aloud?
“The lake,” Dorothea squeaked, knowing she must sound like a half-wit. “’Tis very pretty.”
“Not just pretty, but functional.” She felt his breath caress her cheek. “It’s stocked with fish.”
Dorothea ran her hand self-consciously across the skirt of her riding habit. Her legs felt warm and heavy and she knew if she did not regain control of herself quickly, she was going to regret it.
“Do you like to fish?” It was hardly an interesting topic, but it provided a diversion from her physical dilemma.
“’Tis difficult to find the patience for it.” He placed a tender kiss on her neck, in the sensitive spot directly behind her ear. “Regretfully, I was never disciplined enough to appreciate the concept of delayed gratification.”
Carter lifted his arm and Dorothea panicked, wondering where he was going to place it. She scrambled to think, trying to decide how to react. The kiss had sent pleasant shivers down her spine. He was her husband and she needed to learn to accept his touch without reservation.
Determined to be cooperative, she let her head drop back against his shoulder. And waited, her breath held.
But instead of giving her a teasing caress, Carter waved at the workers in the field, who returned the greeting with enthusiasm. She felt her face heat with embarrassment, along with a flat, disappointed feeling that made no sense at all.
Recovering her emotions, Dorothea sought to concentrate on the surroundings and ignore the physical distraction of her handsome, muscular hu
sband. They rode through fields of grazing cattle and sheep into the deep green meadow. Carter was congenial and charming, pointing out sights of interest, telling her a story or two from his childhood. By the time they returned to the stables a few hours later, Dorothea was smiling and relaxed.
Yet by evening, her fragile sensation of contentment had vanished. At dinner, she struggled to do justice to Cook’s sumptuous meal, but her appetite, and nerve, completely deserted her. Carter, she noted with a tinge of annoyance, ate with obvious relish, complimenting each dish. At least she had been successful with the menu, though the lion’s share of the credit belonged to Cook, since she had devised it. Dorothea had merely approved the selections.
“Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?”
Dorothea placed her dessert fork on the edge of the plate near her barely eaten slice of cake and gave her husband a weak smile. “If you wish.”
He leaned close and his breath fell gently against her hair. “Unless you prefer to retire?”
“To my bedchamber?”
“I believe it is more comfortable than residing in the stables.”
She could feel her forced smile begin to tremble. “Alone?”
There was surprise in his eyes at her direct challenge. Clearly he had not expected her to bring up the overshadowing topic that clouded their every interaction. Yet Dorothea simply had to know what was happening. Would he come to her chamber tonight?
“I assume you would prefer your privacy and therefore shall honor your wishes to wait before I return to your bed.”
Carter put his arm around her waist, leaned down, and kissed her softly on the lips. Her mouth sagged open before she somehow managed to close it. Kisses were wonderful, marvelous, melting. But they led to other things she was not as eager to embrace. She pulled back, just a fraction, and he obediently released her lips.
“Sleep well, Dorothea. I will see you in the morning.”
Then, with a cryptic smile, he turned and walked out of the room.
Carter regretted his words, and actions, the minute he exited the room, for it seemed as though he was leaving all the sparkle and life behind him. But it was better this way. More than anything, Carter wanted Dorothea to find deep pleasure in their marital bed. He wanted her satisfied, replete, and contented. And he knew that would take time.
A single look at her tonight in her gauzy gold silk evening gown had left him breathless. The bodice was so low that one small tug would have exposed her nipples. Her glorious pink nipples that tasted like the sweetest nectar.
He had spent the majority of dinner with a rock-hard erection, shoveling food he barely tasted into his mouth as if that would somehow quench his hunger. Naturally it had not. The only thing that would appease his appetite was a naked, panting, eager wife, writhing in his bed.
He was terribly frustrated, in body as well as mind, but the commitment had been made, the course set. Carter cleared his throat, admonishing himself to stop this self-inflicted torture. Restraint was the order of the day. They had made progress today, and the last thing Carter wanted was to jeopardize this promising start. He could hardly credit that after their disastrous morning conversation they were able to banter and tease, even relax for a time together on their afternoon ride.
She was not a naturally cold woman; there was fire and passion inside her, and he was determined to have an ardent, receptive woman in his bed. Since she had already experienced intercourse, and been unimpressed with it, a slow seduction was needed.
He could see that limited physical contact was already heightening her interest. A stolen kiss, a single heated caress, an occasional brush of his fingertips on her exposed flesh left Dorothea breathless and intrigued. Soon her awareness of him would be so excruciating she would come apart at the very idea of being near him. And then they would both burst into flames.
Another restless night and Dorothea was up at dawn, an occurrence that would have shocked her sisters and anyone else who knew how she relished her morning sleep. She expected a solitary breakfast, but Carter surprised her by awaiting her in the morning room. He drank a second cup of coffee while she ate her toast.
They conversed pleasantly, discussing their plans for the day, and Dorothea agreed to another afternoon ride. When she was finished with her meal, he signaled one of the footmen, and the servant soon returned with a large basket. Placing it on the table, Carter slid it slowly in front of her.
“For you.”
Feeling petty because her first reaction was suspicion, Dorothea carefully lifted the wicker lid. Two soulful brown eyes set into a ball of fluffy golden fur stared up at her. At her smile, the little creature began wagging his tail madly, along with the majority of his hindquarters.
“Oh, my!” Dorothea exclaimed, picking up the squirming puppy and tucking him beneath her chin. “He’s adorable. Is he really meant for me?”
Carter smiled. “We have a great many dogs about the estate, but I thought you would enjoy having a companion that was exclusively your own.”
“Oh, Carter, he is a delight. Thank you.”
Carter reached over to stroke behind the dog’s ears. “He should grow to a respectable size, as any worthwhile dog should. One thing I can’t abide is a woman carrying a dog about and treating it like an infant.”
“You mean like the Dowager Countess Hastings?” Dorothea held the puppy between her two outstretched hands, then brought him close enough so their noses were touching. The animal went into near spasms of joy as he began licking her face.
Carter released a sigh of annoyance. “I swear, the dowager stuffs her pet with treats until the poor creature is so fat he can barely stand.”
“I suppose that is why her footman carries him about on a pillow.”
“A red velvet pillow,” Carter corrected with a snort of disgust. “I was at a picnic one afternoon and the dowager nearly swallowed her tongue in apoplexy when her servant brought the pug to her on a plain, ordinary white pillow.”
“I vow I shall never do anything so ridiculous. Anyway, it looks as though my darling puppy will not fit on a pillow for more than a month or two at most.”
“Especially if you keep feeding him.”
Ignoring his words, Dorothea continued to offer the puppy the remaining scraps of egg from Carter’s plate as she cuddled him. When the meal was finished, the animal licked her hand in gratitude. He next gave a huge yawn, curled himself in a tight ball against her chest, and promptly fell asleep. Smiling, Dorothea settled him back inside his cozy basket.
“I know what you are tying to do,” she said to Carter as she nestled the blanket around the dog. “And in all fairness, I should tell you that it will not work.”
“I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.”
A faint smiled played on her lips. “You know perfectly well what I mean. My new puppy is a bribe. Creative and heartfelt, I’ll grant you that, but a bribe nevertheless.”
“A bribe for what? Your affection? Strange, I thought I already had your regard. Or was I mistaken?”
“Of course not. You know that I care for you. I would not have married you if it were otherwise.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“He is a bribe to bring me into your bed.”
Carter tossed a puzzled glance down at the basket. “Why would that be necessary? You are my wife, my property. You have already told me, in no uncertain terms, that you will do your wifely duty. Hence I have no need to waste my money on a sure thing.”
His voice turned husky. “I can command you now to lie on your back and spread your legs. Or turn you onto your hands and knees so I may take you from behind, thrusting deep inside as your inner muscles cling to me, sheathe me in their warmth and wetness.”
Dorothea stiffened at the image. She looked into his eyes, heavy-lidded and burning, and lost her ability to speak.
His voice deepened to a low, seductive tone. “Remember how it felt to have my hands on you? My mouth, my tongue? Your hips arching to meet m
y touch, your body trembling with release?”
Dorothea could feel the muscles in her throat contract, but she didn’t speak, didn’t utter a sound. The torrid images conjured in her mind by Carter’s passionate words left her speechless. She feigned an indignant expression, yet doubted her husband was fooled.
“Lady Atwood, I was wondering—oh, I do beg your pardon.” Mrs. Simpson’s steady voice, tinged with embarrassment, came from the doorway. “I’ll return later.”
“There’s no need, Mrs. Simpson,” Dorothea said in a rush. “Lord Atwood was just leaving.”
Carter’s eyes flared a deep molten blue. Half expecting him to shout at Mrs. Simpson to disappear, Dorothea waited, unsure what she preferred—for him to respect her wishes and depart, or to get her alone and give in to the smoldering desire he was stirring between them.
“Yes, do come in,” Carter finally intoned. “I want Lady Atwood to complete all her household duties this morning so she may devote her undivided attention to me for the remainder of the day.”
Then with an irresistible smile tugging at his lips, he favored Dorothea with an elegant bow and quit the room.
Chapter Thirteen
Carter knew he was making progress. Not as far nor as fast as he would have preferred, but progress nonetheless. He was starting to know his wife, beginning to learn her likes and dislikes, to understand how her mind worked. Well, as much as any man could understand the intricacies of a female mind.
Dorothea hadn’t cringed at his intimate words yesterday morning. True, she had tightened her jaw and been resolute in her bearing, but she had stood and listened to every word. Stood and shivered and been intrigued by the erotic pictures he had painted in her mind. With time, with patience, with the right approach to seduction, Carter firmly believed he could turn Dorothea into a sensual, exciting woman, who would crave rather than cringe from his touch.
Sooner would be better than later, he acknowledged with a wry grin. The sexual ache that was curled so tightly inside his body was a constant companion, and not a welcome one. But it was necessary to undergo this torture to achieve the ultimate prize, and he was committed to making the sacrifice.
How To Seduce A Sinner Page 20
