“And so it will.”
“Not with you standing there glowering at me,” she grumbled.
He said nothing in response, merely sat back on his haunches and waited. She sat so motionless there was not a single ripple in the water. Then suddenly she moved, with vigor and purpose, as if she had firmly decided she would not allow him to ruin her bath.
Carter smiled at her tenacity. What made her different from other women? The newness of their relationship, the fact he had to work so hard to win her trust, to get his way? And she was his wife! The one female above all others he had a right to claim.
But Carter had discovered he did not want a woman who would merely perform her marital duty. He wanted an eager, willing, and passionate woman in his bed, and he knew Dorothea could be that woman.
A section of her golden hair had fallen from the pile atop her head. It waved around the side of her face, giving her a sexy, disheveled look. He longed to trail his fingers through it, but dared not be too forward lest she throw him out of the room.
In her agitation, she had forgotten to keep the washcloth plastered protectively across her breast. It bobbed and floated merrily in the center of the tub. Carter watched it for a moment before Dorothea swooped it up and wrung it out. There were now no coverings in her bath. The clear water gave him a delectable view of the honey-colored curls between her firm, long legs. He shifted against the tightening in his breeches. Perhaps this had not been such an inspired idea.
“May I beg a kiss?” he asked.
“A kiss?”
Still kneeling, he leaned forward and gently sucked the warm, moist skin on her neck. She lifted her head instinctively and he moved his lips up her throat to her earlobe. Her breathing quickened and then a low whimper escaped. He nearly climaxed at the sensual sound.
“Just one kiss, my sweet,” he intoned hoarsely. “One small kiss.”
She moaned and turned her lips toward his. He cradled her head in his hands as his lips playfully nipped over hers and then Carter dipped his tongue into Dorothea’s mouth.
She moaned again, wrapping her fingers around his wrists, holding him close. Carter held her tightly, fighting for control, fighting to keep to his original plan of a slow seduction. A plan that seemed completely idiotic at the moment.
With great reluctance, Carter broke the kiss and stared down at his wife. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in a quick cadence. He could see the telltale flush of her arousal and then suddenly her eyes opened wide. She met his gaze and for a long moment considering him in silence, a silence that spoke to him, that let him know she was not yet ready.
Carter reached out and trailed a fingertip slowly along the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you at dinner. Enjoy the remainder of your bath.”
Shutting down his mind, ignoring the screaming demands of his overheated body, Carter swiftly left the room. The pace of his steps increased as he reached the end of the hallway and began trotting down the stairs, taking the treads two at a time. He hit the foyer and was nearly sprinting toward the front door when the butler called out.
“My lord, where are you going? Shall I call for your horse or a carriage?”
“It’s not necessary, Cortland. I can reach the lake under my own power.”
“The lake, my lord?”
“Yes. I wish to go swimming.”
“But my lord, ’tis freezing this time of year.”
“That’s the point,” Carter answered, his mouth twisting into a grim line.
A thick covering of clouds was fast approaching from the east. Dorothea’s nose wrinkled with regret as she glanced up at the gray sky. She had planned what she thought was the perfect mid-morning outing, but it appeared the weather had other ideas. Drat!
“I fear my little surprise will be ruined, Cortland,” she said as the butler stood beside her. “The rain seems imminent.”
“So it does, my lady. But might I suggest an alternative?”
“Please do.”
An hour later, Carter was summoned to the solarium. He stood taking in her surprise, his arms folded. She watched closely for his reaction, but could tell little of his feelings.
“Is it silly?” she asked.
“No, ’tis charming. An indoor picnic.”
He moved closer and her pulses fluttered. The open space the servants had created among the tall trees and flowering pots suddenly seemed very small.
“You’ve done so many kind things for me, I wanted to do something to please you,” she said. “Mrs. Simpson mentioned how much you enjoyed picnics when you were a lad.”
“I did.” He paused and looked around. “Though I remember none quite like this one.”
“The rain decreed a change in my plans.”
“I had no idea you were so clever.”
“I’m not. It was really Cortland’s idea. He arranged for everything.” She turned her head at the sudden noise by the potted ornamental palms. “I’ve invited someone else along. I hope you don’t mind.”
At the sound of her voice, the third member of their picnic scampered forward, a chubby, round bundle of fur. The puppy paused, nearly flipping himself over as he began eagerly sniffing the large basket covered with a linen cloth set in the center of their picnic blanket.
“I thought we agreed he was going to be an outside dog,” Carter remarked wryly.
“He will be,” Dorothea said confidently. “But he is far too young and small to be relegated to the kennels.”
She scooped the puppy up in her arms and held him tightly to her breast. He squirmed in ecstasy, his entire body shaking with joy, his pink tongue darting out eagerly to lick her face.
“Have you chosen his name?” Carter asked.
They strolled over to the picnic blanket and sat down. Dorothea released the puppy, which instantly returned its attention to the wicker basket. “I’ve decided to call him Lancelot, after the legendary knight.”
“A noble name.”
“I have great hopes he will grow into it,” Dorothea proclaimed.
She removed the cloth from the basket, pleased to hear Carter voice his delight as the contents were revealed. She piled his china plate high with cold roast beef, roasted chicken, crisp bread, sharp cheese, and fruit, then made a smaller serving of the same items for herself.
They ate heartily, with Dorothea tossing an occasional tidbit to the continually begging puppy. Finally realizing he would get no more treats, Lancelot began exploring his surroundings and was soon climbing over Carter’s legs.
“Your dog is attempting to chew the leather tassels on my boots.”
“Oh, gracious, isn’t he a clever boy.” Dorothea reached for the puppy, which instantly rolled onto its back. Unable to resist, she vigorously rubbed his plump, round tummy. Lancelot’s pink tongue lolled to the side, and his breath exhaled in short, eager pants.
“You’re spoiling him,” Carter said mildly, as he took a sip of his wine.
“I’m just being affectionate. All animals deserve attention and love.”
“As do all men?”
She observed her husband beneath lowered lashes, then favored him with a saucy wink. “Some more than others, I believe.”
“He reminds me a great deal of a dog I had when I was younger. A faithful companion and a good friend.”
“Were you a solitary boy?”
“Not especially. I had no siblings to play with, but there were many children on the estate, the son of our gamekeeper, the children of our stable master. My father was usually attending to business and social matters and was therefore unaware of my boyhood associations.”
“Would he have disapproved?”
“Heartily.” His expression unreadable, Carter took a bite of fruit. “I intend to be far more progressive with my own children.”
A flood of warmth invaded Dorothea’s stomach at the mention of children. Their children. Good God in heaven. There would be no little ones running about until she was ready and willing to accept him into her bed.
He reached for her, covering his hand over hers. “Children will come in due time.”
She shut her eyes. Oh, dear Lord. It was not the children, but the creating of them, as they both very well knew, that had thrown her into such a panic. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she whispered.
“Look at me.”
Startled, Dorothea opened her eyes. He rubbed his fingers up and down her arm gently as he lowered his voice. “I can wait. Moments like last night, when you were in the bath and we were both so aroused, so feverish, give me hope.”
Her heart melted. He was a good man, a kind man. A devilishly attractive man. What was wrong with her? She should be counting her blessings and trying to figure out how to entice him into her bed, not deny him—and herself—the pleasure.
Nervously lifting her wineglass, she took another sip, only to find it empty. She hastily refilled it. They spoke of their visit with Mrs. Snidely the previous day, an event they both agreed was thoroughly annoying. Despite an underlying thread of sexual awareness, Dorothea was struck by their easy conversation and companionship.
“I must apologize again for my decision to take tea with Mrs. Snidely,” Carter said before popping a strawberry into his mouth. “I honestly did not know she was so overbearing. I fear the social coup of being the first to host us went straight to her head and thus strengthened her sense of self-importance.”
“An area in which no further encouragement was necessary,” Dorothea agreed. “Though it wasn’t entirely your fault. I was remiss in my social duties. I should have hosted a tea for all the local ladies, thus eliminating the problem.”
“This is my estate. I’m the one who is supposed to know the inhabitants.”
“Men are dismal failures in these sorts of matters. I should have sought Mrs. Simpson’s guidance. She is loyal and levelheaded and would have guided me on the correct path. A lesson learned. For both of us, my lord.”
Dorothea reached for the wine bottle, surprised to discover the bottle was empty. With a puzzled shrug she reached for the second one that Cortland had prepared. Such a marvelous, clever butler. Dorothea chuckled to herself with appreciation.
The cork had been partially inserted back in the bottle to re-seal the wine, making it easy to remove. Well, relatively easy, for it did take her three tries to pull it out. She sipped her wine and asked Carter when he was going to take her fishing again. He smiled, that smile that always made her knees weaken, and teased her about her squeamish attitude.
They once again fell into an easy conversation, like two dear friends delighted to be in each other’s company. Another hour passed. Lancelot woke up, ate a pile of chicken pieces Dorothea had carefully separated from the bone for him, made a game of tugging on the edge of the blanket for a time, then fell back to sleep. Reclining, Carter propped his back against the pillows and stretched his long, muscular legs beside hers.
Dorothea’s breath caught in her chest. There was something so intimate, so relaxed about his pose. They were so close she could see the tiny lines at the corner of his eyes as he gazed lazily at her. A flutter of desire rose inside her. Pushing aside her misgivings, Dorothea answered the passion that was rising inside her, lifted her head, and kissed him full on the lips.
To have her initiate a kiss was heaven itself. Every inch of Carter’s already aroused body tightened as their lips clung together. He had succeeded! She was relaxed and compliant, ready, nay eager, to make love.
His hands slid to the nape of her neck. He could feel her pulse beneath his fingers beating in a quick, rapid rhythm. She kissed him again, this time thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He could taste the wine on her breath, not an unpleasant sensation, but prevalent nonetheless.
Carter pulled back. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, misty with passion. Or something else? She cocked her head and smiled at him, then suddenly put one hand on the blanket as if she needed help keeping her balance. Carter groaned. If not for rotten luck, it seemed he would have no luck at all.
She was tipsy. No—foxed, and if he didn’t miss his guess, close to passing out. He saw the nearly empty second bottle of wine and realized he had only drunk a few glasses from both bottles. His darling wife had consumed the rest. “Are you all right, Dorothea?”
“I feel rather giddy.” She pressed the back of her hand over her eyes. “Which I have come to understand is normal when I am around you.”
She started laughing, a tiny giggle that soon escalated into peals of laughter. Despite his massive disappointment, Carter managed to smile also. Then her laughter abruptly ceased and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him feverishly on the cheek, neck, and throat.
Carter fell backward. His arms rose instinctively and he pulled her with him. She landed square on top of him, her legs between his. His cock rose stiffly in eager anticipation, but his mind knew the truth. Dorothea nuzzled her head against his shoulder, placing wet kisses along his neck. In a few minutes the kisses slowed, then stopped completely. Finally, there was only the sound of a soft, feminine snore.
He wanted to shout and scream in frustration, but that would accomplish nothing except bring the servants running. Hell, the noise wouldn’t even rouse his inebriated wife. Deciding this must be retribution for some of his prior sins, Carter shifted his back so he rested more comfortably against the cushions and gently stroked his sleeping wife’s silken hair.
He waited in vain for a full hour, then finally admitted she was not going to awaken. Lifting her in his arms, Carter carried Dorothea up to her bedchamber. He jostled her deliberately as he set her on the bed, but she never even blinked.
After covering her with the soft blanket, he left to take another swim in the frigid lake.
Chapter Fourteen
Dorothea awoke in her bed, lying flat on her back, clad only in a light shift, her head pounding, her mouth parched. For a full minute she stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to recall how she got to her bedchamber and into her bed, but there were no memories of the event.
Wincing, she lifted her head from the pillow and stared out the window, trying to judge the time. Late afternoon? Early evening? There were only glimmers of dull gray light shining through the closed draperies, and she lacked the energy, and the strength, to walk across the room to open them.
Pressing the heel of her hand to her aching head, Dorothea struggled to recall the earlier events of the day. She had planned a picnic, but the rain had made it impossible. Carter had been pleased with her alternate plan of staying inside. They had enjoyed the food and the wine and the antics of her puppy, Lancelot, along with some congenial conversation.
They had laughed and flirted with each other. Carter had kissed her. Or did she kiss him? Either way, the velvety softness of his lips upon her skin had been a sensual delight. Dorothea vividly remembered responding to those kisses with her own passion and then…and then…?
Had they made love? Drat, she couldn’t remember. She moved her legs restlessly beneath the sheets, waiting to feel any physical evidence, but there was none. Sighing with relief, she rolled to her side. It would have been beyond awful to have made love with Carter for only the second time in their marriage and not remember a single detail.
There was a knock and then the bedchamber door opened. Dorothea sank beneath the sheets in total embarrassment. Yet through a wave of nausea she saw it was her maid, Sarah, who had entered the room. Not, thank the good Lord, Carter.
“Did you have a nice rest, my lady?” Sarah asked as she threw the draperies open wide.
Dorothea instantly shut her eyes as the light caused a dull pain to burn inside her head. “Is there any water?” she managed to croak.
It took but a moment for a large glass to be poured and brought to her. Grateful for Sarah’s naturally quiet demeanor, Dorothea soaked in the silence and gulped down her water. The cool liquid calmed her rolling stomach and helped to keep the room from spinning. She accepted a second glass, finished that, and then tried
to prepare herself to leave the bed.
Standing upright was challenging, but possible. Taking several deep breaths to steady herself, Dorothea managed to swing her legs toward the floor and then stand on them. Clutching the bedpost, she staggered a few steps, then swallowed again deeply.
Sarah, bless her heart, said not a word, acting as if seeing her mistress in such a pitiful state was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Is Lord Atwood about?” Dorothea asked.
“No, my lady. He’s gone off with Mr. Higgins. He left right after you came upstairs to nap.”
“I see.” Dorothea tried to smile, but she was breathing too hard. Her efforts to stay upright and clearheaded were a great strain and a battle she feared she might be losing. She was fairly certain Mr. Higgins was the estate’s steward, but her cloudy mind was unsure. Still, the effort to inquire seemed far too exhausting, so Dorothea kept silent.
“Shall I have a hot bath prepared?” Sarah suggested.
A bath! What a perfectly marvelous notion. Dorothea shook her head eagerly, then winced as the pain shot down to her teeth. My goodness, even her hair hurt. “A bath sounds like heaven.”
With a knowing look, but a silent tongue, Sarah made the arrangements. Dorothea gratefully soaked in the hot water until it began to cool, then with the maid’s assistance gingerly stepped from the tub. Feeling infinitely more human, she instructed Sarah to plait her hair. Dorothea paired her simple silk evening gown of bright blue with a filigree gold necklace and matching earbobs that had belonged to her mother, and at last felt ready to go down to dinner.
She arrived in the drawing room in a mild state of panic, concerned with how Carter would react. Would he pretend her drunken behavior earlier in the day had never occurred? Would he chastise her? Or be overtly disapproving?
Husbands unfairly had the right to dictate their wife’s behavior and today’s incident had the potential to bring on a lively discord. Dorothea was unsure if her nerves and recently sore head could tolerate a long lecture.
She asked the footman hovering outside the drawing room door to please refrain from announcing her and instead slipped quietly into the room. Carter was already there, dressed in formal black evening clothes, looking wildly handsome. Her heart did its customary jump.
How To Seduce A Sinner Page 22
