Secrets of the Marriage Bed

by Ann Lethbridge

  Alistair, on the other hand, looked disgruntled at his brother’s teasing. Clearly, he was not particularly fond of his sibling. She assumed Luke was his only sibling. Did he have others lurking in unopened cupboards? That question she would save for later.

  ‘A fort, Papa?’ Jeffrey said, clearly having taken in only that part of the conversation. He sounded intrigued and hopeful all at once.

  His father glanced at him, his gaze slightly guilty. ‘I doubt there is much left of it after all this time.’

  The boy’s face fell as he realised he was not going to be invited to see it.

  ‘What are you doing in these parts, Luke?’ Alistair asked. ‘I understood you were in Yorkshire.’

  Lord Luke hesitated, then squared his shoulders. ‘My employer died. The new owner of the estate did not need my services. Beauworth took me on.’

  Alistair’s expression darkened. ‘Did he now?’

  His brother glared back. ‘Alistair, it is none of your business where—’

  ‘You are right, it is none of my business,’ Alistair said with indifference, yet he was not looking at his brother, he had once more turned his hungry gaze on his nephew. ‘Since you are in the district, perhaps you would like to bring Jeffrey to visit the stables. I’ve a couple of steady beasts looking for a home.’

  His half-brother shot him a look of impatience when his son once again pinned him with a look full of small boy hope.

  Feeling uncomfortable, Julia cast around for a way to ease the tension.

  Perhaps this, at last, was something she could do for her husband. Heal the breach in the family. Or at least establish some sort of cordial relationship, so Alistair wouldn’t be quite so isolated. ‘We would be delighted if you and your wife would come for tea one afternoon. You could bring the boys and visit the stables?’

  Jeffrey’s face blanched. His gaze flew to his father’s face, which had turned to stone. ‘I am a widower, Your Grace.’

  And Alistair hadn’t seen fit to warn her. She wanted to shout at him. Or gallop over the nearest rise. ‘I beg your pardon. I did not know.’ She straightened her spine. ‘The offer of tea remains.’

  A wry smile twisted Lord Luke’s lips as he looked at his brother.

  Alistair bowed. ‘Please let my secretary know when your duties at Beauworth will permit it and he will check our engagements.’

  Julia wanted to lash out at him for his stiff unwelcoming formality. All she could do was smile.

  Lord Luke moved his horse closer to his brother and lowered his voice, clearly wishing to speak privately.

  Julia smiled at Jeffrey and moved out of earshot. ‘You picked a good morning to go riding with your papa.’

  The boy patted his pony’s neck. ‘The lads needed an outing and Papa needed to look at one of the drainage ditches.’ He sounded as if a tree fort might have been a much more enjoyable prospect. Yet Julia admired the father for taking his boy with him. Boys needed their father’s guidance.

  Her own brother had certainly received none.

  ‘I appreciate the forewarning,’ Alistair said when his brother finished muttering. It was a rudeness she decided to ignore. A glance of understanding passed between the brothers, yet it held little warmth. Julia understood perfectly. She and her brothers had been out of charity with each other for years.

  Lord Luke touched his whip to his hat. ‘Good day, Your Graces. Duty calls. Come along, Jeffrey.’ He clapped heels to his horse’s sides and took off at a steady trot.

  The boy bowed and trotted after him.

  Alistair watched them go, then turned Thor towards Sackfield.

  Julia waited until they had turned into a lane that ran at right angles before speaking. ‘Is he your only sibling?’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘You do not like him?’

  ‘My brother has every cause to dislike me.’

  The bleakness in his expression forbade further questions. What was it that his brother had imparted that made Alistair look more like a threatening storm than usual?

  It was not her place to pry, despite the better understanding they seemed to have reached over these past two days and the kiss they had shared. Instead she tipped her face to look up at the sky. ‘I think this is one of those times when Jaimie will be proved wrong about the weather.’

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him shoot her a piercing glance, but some of his tension seemed to evaporate. ‘It appears so.’

  Chapter Seven

  After dinner, Alistair indicated he would join his wife for tea in the drawing room. Hedged about with servants since returning from their ride, he’d had no further opportunity for private conversation with her about the matter his half-brother had raised. A matter he had decided, after considerable thought, could not be ignored.

  While she went through the ritual of pouring tea, he sipped at his port. To his surprise, he enjoyed the simple pleasure of watching his wife’s graceful movements.

  After their time in the orchard, he was beginning to wonder how long he could deny himself pleasure with his wife. And whether it was really necessary. As a punishment for past sins, he could tell himself it was fitting, though nothing would make up for those. But his abstinence was also punishing her, if the shadows in her eyes were anything to go by. A subtle punishment, that was true, nothing to cause her to flinch, but unkind. Ungentlemanly.

  His intention had in no way been meant to make her unhappy.

  Nor to ruin her health with worry. Though he could not be sure that was the cause of her recent bout of illness, she certainly seemed happier when he was not keeping her at a distance. She looked healthy enough now. Ravishing, in fact.

  As long as he restrained his ardour, and he had no doubt he could...

  Once she had her teacup in hand and was gazing at him over the rim, he raised his glass. ‘To my lovely and extraordinarily forbearing wife.’

  She blinked uncertainly.

  No doubt because she wasn’t certain of him. An indication of his bad behaviour.

  ‘You are no doubt wondering what warning Luke imparted.’

  She smiled faintly. ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ She sniffed at her tea, then took a delicate sip.

  Was that the sort of thing her first husband had said to her? ‘I apologise for not telling you sooner.’

  ‘My greater concern was that I had stepped where even angels should not tread.’

  A gentle criticism indeed, when he deserved a thorough dragging over the coals for not warning her. He let guilt rake its claws across his conscience. ‘I am sorry for that, too. Luke’s wife died years ago, after the birth of their second child. It did not occur to me to mention it.’

  In truth, he hated recalling Elise, and how she had lured him into her bed, let alone speaking her name. How horrified he had been on his return from Italy to learn she’d borne his son after marrying his brother. No wonder Luke hated him. Their father had done neither of them any favours by spiriting Alistair out of the country and leaving Elise with no choice but to accept his brother’s hand.

  ‘I do hope he will bring his boys for tea one afternoon.’ Another delicately phrased admonishment.

  ‘When the honeymoon is over, perhaps.’ Luke had categorically refused to have anything to do with Alistair after his miraculous return from the Continent’s shores. No doubt Alistair’s reappearance had blighted all his hopes of inheriting the dukedom. Harsh words had been spoken when Alistair had discovered the terrible state of the duchy’s coffers. Now his brother was no doubt also resenting Julia’s appearance on the scene at least as much as, if not more than, Isobel, given that an heir would cut out both him and Jeffrey.

  Alistair had no intention of relieving his brother’s mind on that score. Why should he? He would do his damnedest to outlive his half-brother and ensure the
title went to the true heir. None of which he could tell Julia.

  ‘His mother has arrived in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘That is what you were whispering about?’

  He took a long pull at his drink. ‘While Luke knows I would sooner never set eyes on her again, he advises that we get the introductions over and done.’

  A frown creased her brow. ‘You think she won’t approve of me?’

  Alistair stilled at the anxiety in her eyes. ‘I care nothing for what she thinks, but that is not the source of her unhappiness. She hates being merely the Dowager Duchess. It does not suit her pride.’ Nor did the potential displacement of her son as Alistair’s heir.

  ‘Should we invite her for tea along with your brother and his children?’

  He grimaced. ‘I prefer to contend with them separately, if I must contend with them at all. Dealing with dear Stepmama is wearing enough without adding her darling son and grandchildren to the mix.’ Although Alistair admitted he would like to see more of Jeffrey. Get to know the boy. Hear about his hopes and dreams. Luke had refused to bring the boy anywhere near him, out of petty revenge no doubt, since he knew Alistair could never acknowledge the boy as his own without causing a scandal.

  He didn’t care for himself, but Jeffrey did not deserve to carry such a burden.

  A pause ensued, while Julia sipped her tea thoughtfully. She put down her cup. ‘I enjoyed our ride today. I am looking forward to more such expeditions.’

  It was a change of topic, when he had thought she might take him to task for his lack of familial feeling. A rush of warmth filled him, for her kindness and for her support in his decision.

  ‘You have not noticed any ill effects from our outing?’

  ‘None at all. In fact, I feel very much better, if a little tired. I think I will retire.’

  He rose to his feet, took her hand and helped her to rise. ‘I will escort you. If you will allow?’

  She must have heard something in his voice for her eyes widened and her breath caught. ‘I would be delighted.’

  He brought her fingers to her lips, grateful for her honesty. The night they had met, she had been flirtatious, but also honest. He’d forgotten it was one of the things about her he had found so attractive.

  When they reached her chamber, he dismissed her dresser, who for a moment looked as if she might dispute his right of entry, until he glowered. The woman sniffed and disappeared.

  Julia stifled a giggle and he frowned at her.

  She laughed outright. ‘She will never forgive you, you know.’

  He raised a brow. ‘I am supposed to care?’

  She turned her back and glanced over her shoulder with a smile. ‘In her absence, perhaps you might help with my fastenings.’

  ‘The pleasure will be all mine.’

  Her little gasp sent great deal of pleasurable anticipation heading south.

  As seduction went, the smile on his wife’s face was surprisingly innocent. Yet undeniably welcoming. A look of such courage, it captivated a man used to the jaded ladies of the demi-monde.

  Her brief glance touched every inch of his skin. Resided in every beat of his blood and had done so since their earlier kiss in the apple tree. Heat trickled along his veins.

  Turning away, she dipped her chin, presenting her vulnerable nape. A delicate spot he ached to taste with his lips and tongue. A whisper brush of the pad of his thumb and tiny hairs rose along her hairline. A shiver, she scarcely repressed. She was so responsive, his wife.

  Resisting the temptation to touch his mouth to the place where his thumb had grazed, he gently, carefully, unfastened the buttons of her gown, exulting in the occasional brush of his knuckles against the creamy skin of her back and the resultant hitch of her breath.

  What man wouldn’t want to unwrap such a delicious parcel? Desire, perhaps even need, roared through his veins. Hot. Demanding.

  For years, lust had been little more than a physical nuisance. A function of being male, requiring an outlet from time to time. Or not. It had always been his own decision. Until Julia. From the first, he’d found control elusive.

  Everything about her aroused his base urges: her voice, her smile, even her scent. He inhaled deeply. Jasmine and a deeper note he had never quite isolated. Clove? Delicious. Enticing. Uniquely her.

  He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck above her collarbone.

  She curved her spine, like a cat seeking more stroking. He half expected her to purr. A tiny vulnerability that hit him like a blow to the heart. A strange longing deep inside him battered his carefully constructed walls. Seeking the light. Her light.

  He could never let her see how much this husbandly act meant to him. Never know how she pulled at his deepest desires. While he did not deserve such bounty, perhaps they could enjoy each other on the physical plane.

  The gown slid down her hips to the floor. Lips parted, eyes slumberous, she laid it on the end of the bed.

  He swallowed a growl of frustration at the sight of her stays. The dresser had threaded them in some complex arrangement that caused a man anxious to see his wife to wish for a pocket knife. He started at the bow at the bottom.

  She inhaled a deep breath when he’d worked halfway up her back. ‘That feels better.’

  He frowned at the relief in her voice. ‘Why lace so tightly if it is uncomfortable?’

  ‘To improve the drape of the jacket.’

  ‘Are you some sort of mannequin that you must conform to the shape of your clothes?’

  She threw a glance over her shoulder. A teasing smile curved her lips. ‘That, Your Grace, is fashion. It is a hard little god who must be obeyed or one suffers the consequences.’

  Teasing he could handle. He welcomed the distraction of conversation. He tackled the last few holes. ‘Consequences such as letters to the editor of The Times, perhaps?’

  The Times would no doubt prefer the story of a duke come back from the dead. The true story—a sorry tale of hiding behind a woman’s skirts while the gendarmes searched from house to house and her final betrayal when he ran out of money—rather than the one he had concocted for the sake of his pride. He swallowed his shame.

  ‘If other ladies think one has not made the proper effort to conform to accepted standards they can be quite unpleasant, I am given to understand.’

  ‘Given to understand by whom?’ he asked.

  ‘By Mrs Robins, naturally. She is the arbiter of all things regarding ladies’ fashion.’

  ‘She’s certainly a bit of a battleaxe when it comes to your wardrobe,’ he muttered, his voice a bit more gravelly than he intended. ‘Had Lewis in a fine old fuss when she thought someone had put the hatboxes beneath your trunk.’ He tossed the stays on top of her skirt and turned her about by the shoulders.

  Breathing faster than normal, she gazed up at him with the light of desire in her lovely amber eyes. Little puffs of air caressed his jaw.

  Unable to resist, he bent and kissed her lips, brushing his mouth gently back and forth across hers, loving the velvety feel of plush lips against his own. He deepened the kiss. Tasting the sweetness of her mouth, feeling her body arch against his.

  Over two weeks they’d been wed and he suddenly realised he wanted her so badly his eyes were crossed.

  * * *

  Julia met her husband’s heavy-lidded, seductive gaze with breathless anticipation. A drugging glance to a woman who thirsted for that particular look and seen little to nothing of it since the day of her wedding.

  Her heart drummed in her chest, not a warning, but the rhythm of a deliciously sensual melody. Julia had never felt so alive as she did at that moment. Her blood was singing in her veins. Her pulse setting the rhythm for a dance she wasn’t sure she knew the steps to.

  But if she stopped now, he might turn away. She r
emembered how bold she’d been during their first encounter and reached for the courage to be so again.

  Her fingers untied the knot at his throat, without her consciously thinking about it. She tossed it aside and started on the buttons of his waistcoat, his shirt.

  ‘You would play the valet,’ he said, his voice husky in her ear as he nuzzled at her throat.

  ‘If you would allow?’

  Buttons undone, he eased out of his coats. He pulled his shirt free of his waistband and pulled it off over his head.

  A breath caught in her throat at the sheer male beauty of the man. She’d forgotten how muscular he was beneath his clothing. How defined his arms and shoulders and how the smatter of springy golden hair across his chest gleamed in candlelight. Her husband. Hers. And she was his wife. Finally, they were free to indulge their every desire.

  And yet a blush rose in her cheeks. A sudden feeling of shyness. She hesitated, gazing up into his face. The heat of passion in his eyes, the softening of those lips gave her courage.

  She lifted up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. His mouth was warm, tenderly wooing. Seductively soft, yet demanding. She leaned into him, sliding a hand around his neck to curve against his nape, pulling him closer while her other hand explored the magnificent width of his shoulders.

  Strong arms encircled her. He exuded strength and restraint, for he did not seem in any sort of hurry. The press of his chest against her breasts caused her nipples to tighten. His tongue licked along the seam of her mouth. A dart of dark pleasure low in her abdomen made her gasp.

  She’d forgotten the sharpness of desire.

  A heartbeat later he dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting, exploring the delicious slide of tongue against tongue, sending cascades of thrills down her back. Her insides fluttered wildly.

  Until now, she had not realised how hot her desire for him had burned. The glowing embers of passion sparked to wicked flame with the feel of his body flush with hers.

  She raked her fingers through his silky hair. It felt so good to hold this man, this husband, whom she had feared did not want her. The evidence of his desire was a hard ridge against the swell of her stomach.