‘I pushed her away from me, and she overturned the candles. I pulled her clear of the fire, but the flames spread quickly. Fortunately, the walls on this side of the house are old and stone. The damage was limited to this room, and the rooms above and below. And smoke damage to my bedroom, of course. Divine justice.’
‘Was anyone hurt?’
Adam seemed to flinch at the thought. ‘Will has a burn on the back of his arm, gained from fighting the fire. A beam fell upon him.’
She looked up at the roof, and the badly patched holes, and piles of new lumber on the floor below. ‘And this is why you needed the money?’
‘Not a thing has gone right since the night of the fire. It was as if I was cursed. I invested. Badly, as it turns out. In tobacco. The ship sank, and my hopes with it. The profits should have been enough to repair the house and account for the failure of this year’s crop.’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘And then I met you. Before that, I had no idea how to go on.’
She looked at him, and at the wreckage before them. ‘And you swear, this is over.’
He smiled sadly. ‘Nothing brings you to the knowledge that you are behaving like a fool quite so fast as burning your house half to the ground, and seeing your brother nursing injuries that were a result of your stupidity in chasing after another man’s wife. And I saw the look on Tim’s face that night. Yet he insists on forgiving me, which is the worst punishment of all.’
She tugged at his sleeve. ‘Close the doors on this mess, then. Let us go downstairs and find supper.’
Chapter Eighteen
He took her to the formal dining room, which was set for two. And she watched as the servants went through their paces, attempting to impress their new mistress with speed of service and excellence of presentation.
She wondered what Jem thought of it all, and if they had managed to force some work out of him, or had he found a warm corner somewhere to sleep. Perhaps she could find a post for him, something that involved short hours and long naps.
And while her husband might think of them as being totally alone in Wales, she found the room crowded with servants. There were footmen behind each chair and a regular influx of courses arriving and departing. She watched Adam, who was staring at the contents of his plate, but doing very little with it. He must think himself alone, for he seemed to have forgotten her entirely. Instead, he cast furtive glances in the direction of the damaged wing, as though he could sense it through the walls.
By the look in his eyes, he had been wrong. He might think that things were over, and managed to keep them at bay when he was in London and could keep busy enough to ignore them. But his good spirits had begun to evaporate the moment he had opened the door to the ballroom. She wondered how many rooms of the house held bad memories for him. She imagined Clarissa, as Tim had described her, attempting to trap Adam in an indiscretion. The music gallery had been an excellent choice, if she wished discovery.
But had it been the first attempt? Or had she taken every opportunity she could to embarrass her husband and create talk? Penny might be forced to see her own husband starting at ghosts of memory in every room of their home.
Why must the woman have been so beautiful and so audacious? So without shame as to be unforgettable? How was she expected to compete? When they were together, in the inn, Penny had felt like the only woman in the world to him. And in scant hours, he had forgotten her.
The idea angered her, and she prepared to count, when it occurred to her that, in fighting this battle, a measured and thoughtful response would not win the day. If she thought at all, she would never have the nerve to act.
She looked back at Adam, who was staring into his dessert in confusion, as though wondering where the earlier courses had got to. She slid her chair closer to his, so that they might not be overheard. ‘Adam. Darling. I was wondering if you had given thought as to where we would sleep?’
He started, and looked up at her. ‘I am sorry. I had forgotten. You must be tired after such a long journey. You will take the mistress’s suite, of course. I will find somewhere.’ He shrugged. ‘One of the guest rooms. I doubt I will sleep well this first night.’ He gave her a tight, pained smile. ‘I had hoped to be in better spirits. There are uneasy memories. But do not let me disturb you.’
She pulled her chair closer still, until their knees were touching under the table. ‘You are disturbing me very much, husband. For I was rather under the impression that you would be disturbing me tonight. And I find the prospect of a lack of disturbance…most disturbing.’
He started again, as if waking from a bad dream. ‘You still wish…’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘To reclaim my garter. If you still have it, of course. The way you are acting, I am beginning to suspect that you have forgotten where it is.’
He looked at her, with the long slow smile he used to charm her into so many things, and said, ‘I have it on my person, at this moment.’
She took a large sip of wine, to steady her nerves. ‘Really? I do not believe you. Show it to me.’
The roguish light was back in his eyes again. ‘You must find it for yourself, if you are so curious to see it.’
She toyed with her glass and gauged the locations of the servants, and how much they were likely to see. It was some small consolation that, should any word reach the outside about the indiscretions of the Duke of Bellston, from now on they would involve the duchess as well.
Then she took another drink, casually dropped her hand below the table as though to adjust her napkin, and ran her fingers up her husband’s leg.
He choked on his water and gripped the edge of the table. When he had regained his breath, he whispered, ‘What the devil are you doing?’
‘What you suggested I do,’ she whispered back. ‘Where else would you wear a garter? You know where it was when you removed it.’ Her hand travelled farther up his thigh and his face went white as the blood left it.
‘But I do not feel anything.’ She gathered all her nerve and thought about last night at the inn. And then she sent her hand higher up his thigh, under his napkin, and undid two of the buttons on his trousers, slipping her hand into the gap. After a few seconds she said, ‘And while this is very interesting, I do not think it is a garter, either.’
‘Out!’
She sought to remove her hand, but he pressed down on it through the napkin, trapping it where it was.
He turned his head to the footmen at the door, ‘Go. All of you. We do not need you. Thank the cook. Wonderful meal. But no more. Do not bother to clear away, just go. And lock the door behind you.’
When he heard the click of the latch, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. Then he closed his eyes and said in a hoarse voice, ‘You may continue looking.’
She undid some more buttons, moved the napkin, and peeked beneath the table. When he caught her looking, she said, ‘Last night, it was very dark. And I was not wearing my glasses.’
‘Oh.’
His response to what she had said sounded quite like a moan, and she smiled in triumph. She looked again, as she felt him shuddering under her hand as she stroked him. ‘Shall we play hot and cold?’
‘Very hot,’ he murmured, and tore at the knot on his cravat.
‘I am still looking for the garter, silly. I do not think you have it hidden here at all.’
With one hand, he yanked at the buttons on his waistcoat, and the other cupped the back of her head, dragging her mouth to his for a desperate kiss. When his chest was bare, he pulled her empty hand to his heart, and she stroked the hair on his chest, and the nipples hidden in it. He broke the kiss and guided her mouth down to them, letting her bite and suck as he had done for her, while he fumbled at the closures on her gown, swearing as he fought to dispense with her clothes.
Had she unbalanced him to that degree? A feeling of power rushed through her, along with desire, and she could feel her body readying itself for what was to come. Her breasts ached to be touched, and as she stroked hi
m she could feel the heat building inside her, where he would soon be.
She stopped what she was doing and enjoyed the moment, and then looked at her husband. She’d thought him a master of seduction. But tonight the tables were turned, and he could not undo the simple knot that held her stays in place. ‘Really, Adam. If you cannot manage, perhaps I shall go to my room and send for the maid.’
‘You will do no such thing.’ He grabbed her hands and placed them firmly on his knees, bending her over the arm of his chair. ‘Do not move.’ And then he seized a knife from the table in front of them, and slit the lacings of her corset from bottom to top.
She sat up and took a deep breath, which he stole with another kiss and then pulled the thing free of her, and threw it on to the floor. She stood up and let the gown follow it, and then he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her to sit on the table, kissing her face, her throat and her breasts. Between the kisses he undid the last button on his trousers. Pushing them out of the way, he panted, ‘Sorry, darling. Most undignified. And not as gentle as I should be. I cannot help myself.’
He could not help himself. And he was talking to her. She took a breath to calm her nerves, and then pulled up her chemise and spread her legs, leaning back to tip her hips up. ‘Stop talking and take me.’
‘Say that you love me,’ he whispered. ‘I want to hear you say the words.’
And it was surprisingly easy to tell him the truth. ‘I love you,’ she whispered back.
This time, he was the one to groan, ‘Soon.’ And he kissed her again, rough and insistent. So she reached out and put her hand to him again, and mimicked the strength of his kiss. She could feel herself losing the boundary between what she was feeling, and what he must be feeling as he found her with his fingers and thrust.
She rocked her hips against his hand, and let him fill her, as the feelings grew inside of her, and his sex grew slippery in her palm.
‘Very soon,’ he whispered. His hips thrust toward hers until the head of his sex rested against her, and she writhed against it, stroking so that it rubbed her body where it felt most right. She was trembling with excitement, balancing on the edge of something wonderful. He removed his fingers from her, clutching her hip with his hand to steady her, and bring her closer to him.
The emptiness frustrated her, and she stroked harder, feeling him tremble, and rubbed herself with him until his sex slipped against the opening to her body, making her gasp.
And he said, ‘Now,’ and drove into her.
There was a shock of pain, and he kissed her until it hardly mattered, and the tension grew in her again. He pushed her back to brace her hands on the table so that her hips stayed steady, put his hands on her breasts and thrust, over and over again, staring into her eyes.
She leaned back and wrapped her legs around him so that the friction of their bodies changed, driving her wild with touches that were never long enough. But they brought her close again, so very close. And when he shuddered against her and stopped, she moaned in protest until he stroked her with his thumb and took her over the edge.
When she came back to herself, they had moved very little. She held him inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he was leaning over her on the table, staring down into her face.
He dropped a kiss on her lips, and glanced around the shambles they had made of dinner. What clothing they had managed to remove was scattered around them, chairs were tipped, and goblets were knocked over on the table. He reached beside her, and fed her a candied apricot from the dessert tray, watching her mouth with interest as she ate. ‘In case you are wondering,’ he said, ‘I had intended something a bit more sedate for our first evening together.’
‘Oh, really?’ she touched her tongue to her lips, and waited as he offered her a bit of cake.
He furrowed his brow. ‘I believe my original plan was to seduce you at my leisure, and render you docile and agreeable through lust.’
‘And my garter?’
‘Is tied around my shirt sleeve, for I thought, perhaps, you would summon the nerve to help me off with my jacket.’
‘And what do you think of your plan now?’ She shifted her legs to grip him tighter.
He sighed and smiled. ‘It is an utter failure. You control me body and soul. Command me.’ And he looked supremely happy to have lost.
She released him, and offered her hand to him, so that he could help her down from the table. ‘Take me to our bedroom.’
His smile broadened and he scooped up her dress and tossed it over her head. Laughing and whispering, they collected the rest of the discarded clothing and a plate of cakes. Then he opened the door, checked the hall to make sure it was empty and they ran from the room together, not stopping until they were safely behind the closed bedroom door.
Chapter Nineteen
Adam came down to the breakfast room and took his usual seat. His coffee was already poured, the mail was stacked beside the plate, and his wife was seated at his side. Life was as close to perfect as any man had a right to expect.
Penny was as happy in Wales as he had known she would be, even more so now that they had each other. For a month, they had awoken every morning, tangled in the sheets and each other, breakfasted together, and then he went to his study, and she to the library. He could read his paper, ride out to inspect the property, or argue with the workmen who had begun renovations on the ballroom, knowing that when he came back, his steadfast Penelope would be waiting for him.
They had not yet made love in the library, perhaps because he had spent so little time there, before Penny had come to the house. She had learned the measure of him, on that first night. And now, if she felt he was growing morose, or attempting to dwell in the past, she had but to lock the door and show him a flash of garter, and he was lost to the world.
But any suggestions made in the library would be of his own doing. He looked up into her face, startled by the thought, and smiled as he caught her looking at him.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What?’
‘Was there something…?’
They spoke in unison, to cover their mutual confusion, and fell silent at the same time.
‘The eggs,’ he lied. ‘I bit down on a piece of shell.’
‘I will speak to Cook.’
‘Do not worry, it is nothing.’
She nodded and looked down into her plate.
‘They are very good eggs today,’ he supplied. ‘The best I have ever tasted, I think.’
‘You say that every morning.’ She went back to her breakfast. But she was blushing.
At some point, he would have to return to London, or share her with the world. But not just yet. For now, they were the only two people on earth, and it was enough. He opened the first letter on the stack, and a folded sheet dropped on to his plate.
…torment me no longer. For I cannot live without the perfection of your body, the taste of your kiss, the sound of your voice as you call my name…
He recognised his own hand, and remembered the letter well. It had been drunken folly to have written it. He should have thrown it on the fire rather than sent it. And it was hardly the most damning thing he put to paper in the months before the fire.
It was accompanied by another sheet, with a single line.
Come to me at Colton, or I shall go to her.
Clare
She had followed them to Wales.
‘Something interesting in the mail?’ Penny did not look up from her tea.
‘Nothing important.’ Perhaps he had grown better at concealing his feelings from her, for she did not seem to notice that the room had gone cold, or that his mouth had filled with smoke and ashes.
‘Then I will leave you to it, and return to work.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Ithaca calls.’
‘With its rosy fingers of dawn?’
‘There must be a better way to say that,’ she said, and wandered down the hall, lost in thought.
He stared back at the letter in front of
him, and then threw it into the fireplace, watching the edges curl and the words disappear. He poked at the bits of ash until there could be nothing left of them to read.
Then he went to the stables to saddle a horse.
The Colton property abutted his, and as he rode toward it, he could feel the tightening in his chest. He should have spoken the truth to Penny, and got it over with. Soon she would be seeing Clarissa again, and that it would be impossible to avoid contact, if the Coltons had returned to Wales.
But it was very unlike them to be here in the summer. Clare much preferred Bath. He had not been prepared for the letter, and he had no response at hand. Perhaps the situation was not as bad as it seemed. He could assess, and return to Penny by lunch, with an explanation.
Tim’s house seemed as it always did, preternaturally quiet. There was nothing to indicate that the family was in residence, although what he expected to find, he was not sure. Tim must be out riding in the hills. Probably trying to avoid his wife.
The servant allowed him entrance and took him to the sitting room without introduction.
Clare was waiting for him, lounging on a divan in dishabille, her dressing gown artfully arranged to display a length of bare leg, the globe of a breast, and the barest hint of nipple, peeking from the ruffles of lace. ‘Adam. At last.’
Her voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck, just as it always did, and he wondered how he could have mistaken the feeling for passion. ‘Clarissa. Why have you come here?’
‘Because it is my home.’
‘It is Tim’s home. And you loathe it. You have told us often enough.’
‘Then I will be honest. I came because I missed you.’ She pulled a pretty pout, which made her look more like a spoiled child than a seductress. ‘It has been so long.’
‘Barely a month.’
‘Why did you leave London?’
‘You should know that. I sought to be where my wife would be happiest.’ And to be where you were not.
Miss Winthorpe's Elopement Page 19
