by Ava Stone
“Emerald,” Robert growled.
“Oh, well—” Luke threw his arms up in the air sardonically— “that makes all the difference, doesn’t it? Since I go around lifting all the emerald pendants I can get my hands on.”
Finally, Robert sank into a sage and cream chintz chair and shook his head. “So, then tell me this. Why would Lady Ridgemont accuse you, Luke?”
Luke shrugged, looking like a boy instead of a grown man. “Louisa is put out that I’ve broken things off with her.” Then he fell back on the settee and rested his elbows on his knees. “She’s got some Bow Street blighter dogging my every step and now she’s got you beckoning me all the way to Dorset.”
“I did not beckon you to Dorset.”
With a sheepish grin, Luke stared across the room at his brother. “Perhaps not, but do you mind if I stay for a while? I’m trying to keep as far away from Louisa as possible at the moment. She’d never think to look for me here.”
Luke at Gosling Park was just about the last thing Robert needed at the moment. He glared at his brother. “You know, none of this would be necessary if you could just keep that prick of yours where it belongs.”
Luke threw back his head and laughed. “Leave it to you, Robert, to cut to the chase. But what do you say, old man? I need a place to stay for a while.”
“You’re not a young blade anymore, Luke. It’s way past time you settled down. Go back to London, end things with Lady Ridgemont, and grow the devil up.”
“Spoken like the older brother I know and love. But please, Rob, just a few days.”
“Why don’t you hide out at Staveley’s?”
With a roguish grin, Luke shrugged. “Actually, Caroline’s not very happy with me at the moment.”
God only knew what the blackguard had done now, and Robert didn’t want to know. He sighed heavily. This was not a good idea at all. He should turn his back on Luke and have his brother thrown out of Gosling Park. Yes, he should do that. But something in the pit of his stomach just wouldn’t let him. It was that same part of him that was forever pulling his brother out of various scrapes—fraternal bonds. “Fine. But just a few days. And I want you to stay far away from Lydia.”
“I wouldn’t dream of bothering her.”
“See that you don’t or you’ll answer to me. And in the meantime, I expect you to send a note to Mr. Cooper, the Bow Street blighter you mentioned earlier. I won’t harbor a fugitive.”
“You’re the best, Robert. I always say so.”
With a shake of his head, Robert doubted the sincerity of his brother’s accolade, particularly since he knew what his brother usually said about him. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and set off to find his wife so he could try to explain the situation they now found themselves in.
Robert pushed open the door to his and Lydia’s bedchamber. He found his wife, knitting furiously in their attached sitting room, with her feet tucked under her dress. She either didn’t hear him enter or was too angry to acknowledge his presence. Robert cleared his throat.
She didn’t look up. Well, that answered that question, didn’t it? He’d already had two encounters with those damned knitting needles, and he wasn’t ready for a third. “Is it safe to enter?” He gestured toward her weapons of choice.
Lydia sighed. “Well, that depends, Robert. Did you really send for your brother to come here?” Finally, she looked up and met his eyes.
Cautiously, Robert crossed the threshold and took a seat opposite his wife. She went immediately back to work, with her yarn flying between her fingers and over her needles. Robert leaned forward and placed a staying hand on those damned socks. “Darling, I honestly didn’t know Luke was coming here.”
“So, have you asked him to leave, then?”
Robert took a deep breath. How could he explain this to her? “No, he’s got some trouble in London. He may stay for a few days.”
“A few days!” Lydia dropped her knitting to her lap. “Robert, the children are supposed to arrive tomorrow, and our dinner party is the night after. You can’t actually expect me to live in the same house as that man and act as if everything is just fine.”
“Lydia love, it will be fine. Gosling is so vast, you won’t even have to see Luke if you don’t want to. And I’ve asked him to stay away from you while he’s here.”
She narrowed her eyes and shook off his hands. “I can’t believe that you would ask this of me!”
“Try to understand, dear. For better or worse, he is my brother. As much as I’d like to sometimes, I can’t turn my back on him when he’s asked for help. Wouldn’t you do the same for your brother, despite your differences?”
He had her there, and he knew it, but she wasn’t happy about it. Still, she closed her eyes, as if she was in pain. “It’s hardly the same thing, Robert.”
“It’s exactly the same thing. You and your brother aren’t even on speaking terms, and yet every time I turn around you’re knitting the good lieutenant another damned pair of socks—or are they the same pair? I don’t even know. Never mind. My point, darling, is that you cherish family as much as I do.”
***
Lydia dropped her yarn and needles to a basket at her feet and sighed, resigned to her fate. But if Luke was going to stay there—and God how that left her nauseated—there were things they needed to discuss. “I spoke with him earlier today.”
“I guessed as much since you’re hiding away in here.”
“Damn you, Robert, I’m not hiding!”
Properly chastised, Robert kissed the top of Lydia’s head. “I’m sorry, my love. Poor choice of words.”
Lydia rubbed her brow, but continued. “Our visit was not a pleasant one. You should know that I don’t think your brother likes me very much.”
With a mischievous grin, Robert tapped her chin. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. He had his shot at you. Now you’re mine.”
“Robert!” She leaned back in her chair in exasperation. “That’s not what I meant at all. He seemed angry with me and said something about knowing my secrets.”
“Secrets?” Robert frowned. “What the devil is that about?”
“I have no idea. But he made me quite uncomfortable.”
Robert dropped to his knees before Lydia and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll talk to him again, sweetheart. You’re my wife and I love you. I won’t let him upset you.”
I love you.
Lydia stared at Robert in complete shock. Did the man actually just tell her that he loved her? If so, it was worth having Lucas Beckford here, just to hear those words from her husband. She wanted to hear them again. Over and over again. “Did you just say that you love me?”
“Lydia.” Robert looked at once uncomfortable and tried to pull away from her, but she held firmly to him.
She stared deeply into those golden brown eyes of his and willed him to say those words again. “Tell me, please, Robert. Do you really? Love me, that is?”
A rare blush crept up his face, making him look boyish. “Lydia Masten, my darling wife, I can’t help but love you.”
Joy swept over Lydia, and she sat dumbfounded while she stared at him. Then she threw her arms around his neck and held him closely. How she had hoped to hear him speak those words! How she’d dreamed they were true! Tears pooled in her eyes as she clung to him. His warm hands lovingly caressed her back.
He whispered against her ear, “You don’t have to say the words, Lydia.”
Immediately she pulled back from him, and smoothed away a tear from her cheek. He didn’t think she reciprocated? She tried to smother a choked laugh. “Oh, heavens, Robert! I love you. Surely, you know that.”
With a devilish twinkle in his eyes, Robert stood, scooped Lydia up into his arms, and started for their bed. He dropped his forehead to hers and smiled. “Show me.”
So she did.
Lydia untied Robert’s neck cloth, dropped it on the floor behind them, and then she nuzzled into the light golden brown hair at the base of
his neck. He smelled of sandalwood, hay, and hard work. He smelled like Robert.
Before Lydia knew it, he had unfastened the back of her dress with the expertise of a lady’s maid and laid her down on their bed. Grinning rakishly, a look he had sported often over the last few weeks, Robert quickly relieved her of her drawers and threw them over his shoulder with the flick of his wrist. Lydia giggled at his showmanship and sat up to slip her dress and chemise over her head.
Lying naked before her husband, Lydia felt a tiny bit shy. But his reassuring smile put her at ease. She started to move to the center of the mattress, but Robert caught her by the ankle and pulled her to the edge of the bed. “My God you’re beautiful, Lydia.”
She gasped as he dropped to his knees, held her legs apart, and gazed eagerly at her there. Lydia knew he thought of her as his little wanton, but this was a bit much. She tried to close her legs, but he held her firmly. “Robert, what are you doing?”
“Worshiping you.” Slowly, methodically, his warm hands caressed her thighs and moved closer to her core.
Before she could protest, he parted her springy hair with his fingers and covered her with his mouth. The intrusion of his tongue was shocking and sinful, and delightful in every way. Lydia couldn’t control her reaction to him and she strained to move closer to his lips and tongue.
Robert chuckled, and he lifted his head to see her. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take you away.”
“Robert?”
But he was back to his ministrations—licking, nipping, sucking until she thought she would lose her mind from the pleasure he brought her. Lydia breathed heavily and her pulse raced. Then he touched her little nub with his tongue and she groaned in pleasure. That was all the encouragement he needed. Robert thrust his tongue deeply into her and took the care to caress her most sensitive nub with his thumb. Lydia gasped and wrapped her fingers in his hair, holding him against her as she shattered into a million pieces and screamed out his name.
Satisfied with his work, Robert opened his breeches and his erection sprung proudly to attention. He bent forward, dropped kisses across Lydia’s flat belly, and then cupped his wife’s face with his hands. “I can’t wait anymore. I must have you.”
Then he entered her on one quick, deep thrust. She nearly swooned from the feel of him, every delicious inch. “Oh, Robert.”
He wanted to go slowly but as usual, Lydia drove him so wild he could barely see straight. He took one nipple into his mouth and then pressed into her with deep thrusts until she convulsed around him, calling his name. The pressure of her release shattered his control and he emptied into her with a final powerful thrust. Sliding his hands under her bottom, he held her to him as he used the last of his strength to roll her on top of him. He didn’t want to slide out of her. Not yet.
Lydia curled in to him, her soft breath warm against his neck. He breathed in her scent. Gardenias. For the rest of his life he’d get hard with just the barest hint of that wonderful flower.
“Robert,” Lydia whispered.
He nuzzled into the hair that had fallen around her neck. “Mmm?”
“Do you remember what you said to me at The Knight’s Arms?”
Robert stroked Lydia’s arm and moved his lips across her neck. “I said a number of things at The Knight’s Arms, my love.”
Lydia turned in his arms to face him. “You told me that you’d make love to me morning, noon, and night at Gosling Park.”
“Do you think I’ve been neglecting you, my lusty little wife?” Robert nipped at the corner of her mouth.
Lydia smiled sheepishly. “It’s just that I wake up every morning and you’re already gone. I rarely see you until the evenings.”
Tenderly, Robert ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I didn’t want you to get tired of me.”
“Robert, I want to wake up like this tomorrow morning.”
~ 14 ~
Luke had come to Gosling Park, looking for something—someone. But she wasn’t here, and he’d been blindsided to find Lydia instead. He was still reeling from that unhappy discovery when he made his way to the dining hall that night. More disturbing than stumbling upon Lydia was Robert’s reaction to his wife. If Luke wasn’t mistaken, his rigid and humorless brother was actually besotted with the little tart.
That was very interesting, indeed.
Luke had known Robert all his life. He had watched his older brother perform his duties without complaint and live up to the standards society expected of him. And over the years, Luke had come to believe certain things about Robert. One was that his upstanding brother always did the right thing. Another was that watching a patch of grass grow was more exciting than boring, old Robert. From the earliest of ages, Luke had decided against following in his older brother’s high moral footsteps—life was to be enjoyed, not endured.
That night as Luke sat in the dining hall at Gosling Park, he discovered something else about his brother, something he’d never realized before: Robert was a giant fool. How was it that he’d known his brother for more than thirty years and he was just now seeing that Robert was such a dim-witted dolt?
It was nauseating to see his brother continually cast mooncalf gazes across the table to his wife. And it was equally disturbing to watch the earl and countess laugh together like a pair of featherbrained love birds.
What the devil was going on here?
He cringed when Lydia giggled at some ridiculous thing Robert said, blushing to the roots of her reddish blond hair. Luke narrowed his eyes on his sister-in-law. Somehow this deceitful, little witch had cast some sort of spell on Robert. That was the only explanation that made any sense, because the man sitting at the head of this table was a complete stranger to Luke. Though he looked like Robert, there was no way that man was his brother.
He vaguely heard something about a dinner party that he would be expected to attend a few nights away, but nothing much registered as he contemplated the situation at hand. He was too stunned by the unfathomable change that had come over his brother to focus on much conversation. A week ago if someone had told him that it was possible for Robert—Robert of all people—to fall helplessly in love with his scandalous wife, Luke would have laughed until he passed out.
What game was Lydia playing with his brother? How had she ensnared him? He’d come to Dorset for a different purpose, but Luke was determined not to leave until his questions were answered.
***
When Lydia awoke, she was still wrapped in Robert’s arms. She sighed joyfully and kissed his sculpted chest. How had life turned out so well for her? Robert tightened his embrace and Lydia giggled as she tried to squirm from his grasp. “Let me go, you beast. You’re crushing me.”
“Am I?” he whispered in her ear. “And here I thought you wanted to wake up in my arms. In fact, I’m still lying here—hours after I would normally be gone, mind you—to honor your wishes, my dear wife.”
Lydia rose up and brushed her lips against her husband’s. “I don’t deserve you, Robert.”
“Oh, my love, you deserve all this and more. Now, I believe there was the little matter of ravishing you in the morning, wasn’t there?”
***
Where the devil is Robert?
Luke frowned down at the cooling baked eggs on the plate in front of him. He’d wanted to talk to his brother ever since dinner the night before. At first he thought he could grab Robert’s ear during after-dinner port, but his brother had done away with that formality, saying something inane about not wanting Lydia to be left alone.
Robert always has after-dinner port.
True, Luke hadn’t dined with his brother in well over a year, but some things never changed. Some people always stood on ceremony. Robert was one of those people. He was staid and as dependable as the sun rising every morning or the rain coming every English spring.
And another thing, Robert is always up at the crack of dawn.
Luke looked down again at his pocket watch. It was well past noon already, nearly one o�
��clock. Where the devil was the always dependable Earl of Masten? It was certainly not like his brother to keep Town hours in Dorset, or to keep Town hours in Town for that matter.
Just then, the doors opened and a giddy Lydia and a very satisfied looking Robert strolled into the breakfast room.
Damn!
Luke frowned. Would he ever get his brother alone? Did Lydia know he was on to her? Was she purposely keeping Robert from him? Judging from the well-pleased look on his brother’s face, she was doing an excellent job of keeping him occupied.
“Oh, morning, Luke.” Robert tipped his head toward his brother and then began to fill his plate from the sideboard.
“Morning? A little late for that, brother.”
Robert smirked good-naturedly. Good naturedly! Robert is never good natured. Never! Luke scowled in response.
Robert took a seat across from his brother and started to slice up his sausages. “I’m headed to the stables today, Luke. Would you care to join me?”
“Of course,” he responded casually and breathed a sigh of relief. This was the opportunity to talk with Robert that he’d been looking for. “By the way, are you still interested in Haywood’s stud?”
That immediately got Robert’s attention, and he pushed his plate away. “You mean Devil’s Inferno?”
Luke nodded. “The old boy’s run into a bit of financial trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could actually get him to part with the animal. Haywood doesn’t care about horse flesh the same way his father did.”
With a sly grin, Robert nodded appreciatively. “Good to know. Thank you.”
Lydia slid into a seat next to Robert but refused to meet Luke’s gaze. She added some sugar and milk to her coffee and then sipped it tentatively. If one didn’t know better, they would think the Countess of Masten was a picture of grace and propriety. But they would be wrong.
