Undressed (Undone by Love)

by Kristina Cook

  He forced his restless feet to still and paused before the door, staring at the panel while his resolve swung wildly to and fro. He reached for the handle, then reconsidered. Shaking his head, he retreated. He clasped his hands behind his back and resumed his anxious pacing. A moment later he stopped again, eyeing the door suspiciously.

  Did she fear sharing his bed? She seemed a passionate woman, yet he could not forget she was a virgin. She would likely be frightened, and the expression on her face when he’d left her there in her room confirmed as much. The day had been long and tiring, besides. As much as he longed to make love to her, he didn’t want to rush her, to force her. More than anything, he wanted her to come willingly and eagerly to his bed.

  He could wait. It might kill him, but he could wait. A day or two, at most, until she felt more comfortable. He took a step forward, intending to go and set her mind at ease, then stepped back in surprise as the door swung open.

  “Och, I didn’t mean to startle ye.” Brenna’s head appeared in the doorway, her cheeks crimson.

  He stepped aside, watching in fascination as she glided into the room, her hands clutching together the neckline of her wrapper. Her hair shone like amber in the candlelight, cascading across her shoulders in rippling waves, and her skin was flushed a delicate pink. From a warm bath, he surmised, noticing the scent of lavender that emanated from her person, stirring his blood as it always did. Her cream-colored dressing gown appeared to be made from the finest silk, enticingly skimming her subtle curves, and Colin could only wonder what lay beneath the fabric.

  Her carriage and countenance formed a vision of virginal reticence, of fear mixed with curiosity. But she had come to him, after all. His heart began to pound furiously in anticipation.

  “I...I’m sorry for taking so verra long. Celeste seemed overly enthusiastic in her ministrations tonight. I hope...” Her voice trailed off, and the silence was deafening.

  “Don’t make yourself uncomfortable, Brenna. You look lovely.”

  She ignored the compliment. “I didna realize it had grown so late. I think perhaps I might have dozed off while Celeste attended my hair.”

  “It has been a long day, hasn’t it?” Truth be told, he was exhausted himself.

  “I confess I am a wee bit nervous.”

  As was he. He’d never felt so emasculated in his life—actually nervous to bed a woman, something he’d done many a time with much pleasure and usually without much thought. Why did tonight seem so different? Blast it. He was surely over-thinking the matter.

  He cleared his throat and tried to affect a mask of ennui. “A touch of nerves is to be expected, I’m sure. Has Lady Danville not—”

  “Aye, of course she has, and I was well aware of the...of my marital duties before then.”

  His brows rose in surprise. An informed virgin. That certainly made things a bit less complicated.

  With trembling hands, she reached down and untied her dressing gown. It slipped to the floor with a swish, and his curiosity was instantly satisfied. His bride stood before him in a silk gown the same creamy color as the wrapper. The fabric was delicate, near transparent, and trimmed in rich lace. A single tie held the gown together between her breasts, breasts that were fuller than he’d remembered. Rose-colored peaks crowned their fullness and strained against the fragile fabric. Just above each gently curved hip, a tie held together the wisps of front and back panels. Even in the candlelight he could clearly see the tantalizing dark shadow at the point where her thighs joined. He felt the pull of his breeches across his groin and drew in a sharp breath.

  In one quick movement, he swept her off her feet, into his arms. He heard her gasp at the contact, her body trembling against his as he carried her to the bed and deposited her gently on the pillows.

  She lay there provocatively, the hem of her gown tucked up to her thighs and her breasts splayed out as he turned from her, removing his boots and stockings. Hastily, he pulled his shirt over his head.

  His gift. His thoughts were drawn at once to the long velvet box lying on his dressing table, holding the piece of jewelry he’d commissioned for his wife—a delicate rope of oval aquamarines, separated by diamonds and held together by a gold filigree clasp. It was truly a magnificent piece, a perfect match to the betrothal ring he’d given her. He’d had to put himself deeper into debt to pay for it, but it would be worth every last pence to see it on her neck, lying in the hollow above her collarbones, just below her fluttering pulse. The image of her wearing the necklace and nothing else sent flames of desire lapping at his groin, and he nearly groaned aloud. He had to present it to her, now.

  “I’ve something for you,” he said, turning toward her.

  The color in her cheeks rose, and she tugged down the hem of her nightdress in an attempt to cover her bare limbs.

  Colin swallowed hard, wanting nothing more but to ravish her. Immediately. “Wait there,” he managed to say. “I’ll only be but a moment.” He picked up the silver candelabra beside the bed and hurried through the doorway to his dressing room, intent on finding the gift and hastening back to his bride as expeditiously as possible. Holding the candelabra aloft, his gaze scanned the top of his oak dressing table, seeing nothing but a pair of silver cuff links and a watch.

  Blast it, where was it? He could have sworn he left it sitting right there. Had he put it away? He opened the top drawer, pushing aside monogrammed handkerchiefs and cravats as he rummaged through the drawer’s contents, all to no avail.

  It took him a full quarter hour to locate the box, lying on the mantel beside the ebony clock, whose pendulum rhythmically marked the minutes he’d been away from her. He frowned, having no recollection of having put the box there. Perhaps the chambermaid had moved it? He flipped open the case, smiling at the jewels that lay there against the folds of velvet, sparkling in the candlelight. Perfect. Snapping shut the case, he retrieved the candelabra and hurried back to his bedchamber, as eager as a schoolboy. He would fasten the jewels about her neck, then remove her nightdress, lowering it inch by tantalizing inch till she was entirely bare save the gems at the base of her throat.

  His erection pressing fervently against the flap of his trousers, he stepped into the bedchamber and stopped short, his gaze drawn immediately to her small form, lying in his bed where he had left her.

  One of her slender hands lay across her breasts, the other arm above her head, her fingers splayed out against the pillow. Her head was turned to one side, her lashes resting against her flushed cheek where a few auburn tendrils lay damply against her skin. Her rose-tinted lips were parted, her chest rising and falling regularly.

  Colin looked heavenward, emitting a sharp groan of frustration as he cursed his ill-begotten fate.

  She was fast asleep. On their wedding night, no less.

  ***

  “Oh, look. Here he is now. Colin, dear, wait till you see the drawing room furnishings we’ve chosen. Delightful, just delightful. Your wife has impeccable tastes,” his mother said, beaming at Brenna.

  His wife. The words still startled him, a full twenty-four hours after they’d pledged their troth before God and family. He peeled off his gloves as he strode into the salon, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. What a happy sight—his wife perched on the curved arm of the settee, obviously engaged in a lively conversation with Jane and Lucy, wrapped parcels and squares of fabric strewn about the room. No doubt enough furnishings and fabrics had been ordered to outfit a palace. The expense made him shudder. He supposed they thought her dowry was paying for such things. Instead they would quickly bleed him dry.

  Out of habit, Colin made his way toward the sideboard on the far wall, reaching for an empty glass that sat beside a decanter of his father’s favorite claret. He turned the glass over in his hand, holding it up to the sunlight as if to admire the cut. Mercifully, he remembered himself just in time. Setting the glass back down with a thump, he returned his attention to the women.

  “Impeccable tastes, you say?” h
e drawled. “Doesn’t surprise me in the least. You mustn’t forget she married me.”

  “Well,” Jane interjected, “everyone is entitled to a lapse in judgment now and then. Perhaps one day she’ll realize her folly.”

  “As always, Jane, you wound me. Truly. Isn’t there some gentleman out there for you to toy with instead? A heart to break? Who’s your next victim, now that you’ve chased poor Nickerson off?”

  “Now, Colin,” Lucy said, “you know she had every right to refuse him. Though I still can’t fathom why she would,” she added under her breath.

  Lady Rosemoor clapped her hands together. “Squabbling like children, all of you. Enough, I say. Goodness, what will poor Brenna think of her new family? Come now, Colin. You must look at the fabric samples we have here. Lovely, just lovely.”

  “Speaking of lovely,” Mandeville said, stepping into the room beside him, “there is my wife. I thought I might find you here, Lucy.”

  Colin sighed in relief, appreciating Mandeville’s impeccable timing. God knows, he hadn’t relished admiring fabric as a form of entertainment. As always, Lucy’s emerald eyes became luminous as she gazed adoringly at the marquess from across the room.

  “Has Parliament closed for the day?” Jane asked.

  “Indeed, and quite fortuitous timing, too. It’s a beautiful day,” he said, moving to Lucy’s side and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Perhaps we should all adjourn to the park for a stroll. Are you up to it, Lucy?”

  “Of course I am. I’m not an invalid, you know. My father said exercise was perfectly appropriate in my condition.” She turned toward Brenna. “My father is a physician, you see, and...Wait, I nearly forgot. You don’t know, do you?”

  Brenna shook her head.

  “I’m with child,” Lucy answered, near beaming. One hand moved to her abdomen. “Soon my confinement will begin, much as I dread it. I’d hoped to stay in London till the end of the Season, but my stubborn husband will not hear of it.”

  “I’d feel better with you tucked safely away in the countryside.” Mandeville planted a kiss on the top of Lucy’s head. “Certainly not too much to ask.”

  “How exciting for ye both,” Brenna said. “My heartiest felicitations.”

  Though Brenna smiled as she congratulated them, Colin couldn’t help but notice that she looked from Lucy to him with carefully guarded suspicion. Surely she didn’t still believe that he and Lucy... He couldn’t even bear to think the words. Wasn’t it obvious just how much in love the Mandevilles were? It wasn’t as if they made any effort at all to hide it, a fact that alternately warmed and annoyed him, depending on his mood.

  “Really, Lucy, isn’t it vulgar to speak of such things?” he said, brushing an invisible speck of lint from his lapel. “I’m sure you’re breaking some iron rule of etiquette here.”

  “Don’t be so priggish, Colin.” Lucy frowned at him. “Honestly, you’re a married man now. You’d best get used to such talk.”

  Not at the rate my wife and I are proceeding, Colin thought irritably.

  Brenna dropped her gaze to her slippers, her cheeks reddening. Clearly she, too, was remembering their wedding night. The fact that they had not consummated their vows hung heavily between them, a topic they’d both avoided since awakening in his bed together that morning.

  She’d stirred beside him at dawn, her eyes widening in surprise when she’d seen him lying there awake, watching her. “Did we...that is to say...” she stuttered, clutching the bedsheets about her. “Have we—”

  “I assure you that, had we done so, you would remember it,” he’d answered dryly.

  With a satisfied nod, she slid from his bed. Retrieving her wrapper from the floor, she hurried to her own bedchamber, leaving him there alone in the suddenly cold bed, his body aching for her. They’d not spoken of the matter since.

  “I say, what of that stroll Mandeville suggested?” Colin asked, changing the subject to something far more comfortable than marriage and childbearing.

  “A fine idea,” his mother said.

  “Indeed.” Jane flashed Brenna a bright smile, linking her arm through hers. “Come, Brenna. Let’s join your dashing husband for a stroll.”

  The sky was a dazzling blue, an almost surreal color, the air unusually cool and refreshing for late summer. Lucy and Mandeville took the lead, leaning into each other intimately. Lady Rosemoor and Jane followed a discreet distance behind the pair, while Colin and Brenna brought up the rear.

  The party ambled down Upper Brook Street and made their way across Tiburn Lane. The park was bursting with activity, welcoming and bright. Smiling broadly, he guided his wife onto the walking path, headed toward the Serpentine.

  He glanced down at Brenna, her face upturned toward the warming sun, its rays casting a golden glow upon her fair skin. He was relieved to see her looking more relaxed than he’d seen her in quite a while, yet he was disappointed that the delightful smattering of freckles that had previously dusted her nose were now beginning to fade. The constraints of Town, no doubt—never allowed outdoors without the protection of a bonnet.

  The nagging thought that she’d been right, that she did not belong in London, or even in oh-so-civilized Kent, disturbed him. She’d been removed from her element, and he was forcing her to remain there indefinitely. She would be far happier at her beloved Glenbroch, riding through fields of heather, freckles on her sun-browned skin.

  He shrugged away the unpleasant thoughts, forcing himself to consider their future there in London instead. “It sounds as if your shopping expedition was a success.”

  “Oh, ‘twas a grand success. Your mother was indeed an enormous help. She is verra kind, and her guidance is most welcome.”

  “She is kind, indeed. A very fine woman, my mother. Just don’t let her tire you. She can prove to be relentless when it comes to shopping.”

  “Is that so? Hmm, I didna notice.” Her eyes sparkled like gems beneath the arch of her brows.

  “Point taken. Did I hear Jane mention that Lady Alderson’s annual ladies’ luncheon is taking place tomorrow?”

  “’Twould seem so.”

  “And I suppose you’ve spent the better part of the day deciding just which frock will suit the affair?”

  “Nay, of course not.” She shook her head, her bonnet trimmings dancing in the breeze.

  “I’m surprised. I thought all females—”

  “But I wasna included in the invitation.”

  “Whatever do you mean? Didn’t I hear Jane say that both she and my mother had been invited?”

  “Perhaps.”

  His heart began to thump against his breastbone. “And Lucy—”

  “Truly, ‘tis not so important, is it, Colin? I was often excluded from such things, even while I resided with Lord and Lady Danville. I dinna expect it now.”

  His pulse quickened as his anger rose a pitch. How could Lady Alderson—a long-time friend of his mother’s—snub Brenna in such a fashion?

  “But...” he sputtered, his lungs burning, “but I thought that...that...”

  “That what?” She turned to face him, her eyes full of understanding. “That once we married, everything would be set to rights? Even I know it doesna work that way. Ye are my husband, and your status, your station, becomes mine.”

  “I suppose,” he muttered, his throat constricting most uncomfortably. “But it isn’t at all fair to you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Neither have ye, Colin. Ye must remember that, even if they willna see it.”

  “Even if I had, even if I were the worst sort of cheat, it doesn’t give the ton any excuse to treat you as if you are not worthy of their notice.”

  “Besides, they have all declined the invitation. Your mother and Jane; Lucy as well. ‘Twas not necessary, but I do appreciate their show of support.”

  “Bloody right they should decline the invitation. In fact, I’d like to take the blasted card and shove—”

  “Shh, Colin. Ye should lower your voice. Isna tha
t Lord Barclay up ahead with Lord Mandeville?”

  “I don’t give a damn if it’s Prinny himself,” he barked, and then quieted as the pressure on his arm increased.

  Up ahead, Lord Barclay moved away from the Mandevilles, tipping his hat toward Colin’s mother and Jane. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he headed their way. Colin looked over at Brenna, saw her fix a forced smile on her face, and then he looked up again, just as Barclay drew abreast of them. Colin reached for his hat. “Good day, Lord Barclay,” he called out cheerily in greeting.

  Barclay’s eyes met his, then narrowed perceptibly before moving away, his gaze fixed upon the horizon. The silence was deafening.

  As the arrogant man moved past them, Colin went blind with rage. How dare he? How dare he cut them so directly, particularly Brenna? He stood, rooted to the spot, his heart hammering and the rush of blood deafening his ears.

  “How dare you, sir?” he roared.

  Beside him, Brenna started in surprise. “Nay, Colin,” she whispered. “Don’t. He’ll hear ye.”

  “I hope he does hear me, the bloody bastard.”

  His mother and Jane hurried over, wringing their hands.

  “Do you hear me, Barclay?” Colin clenched his fists by his sides, his gaze fixed on the man’s retreating form. “I’m calling you a bastard!”

  “Truly, Colin, ‘twill only make matters worse,” Brenna said, her voice level.

  Mandeville appeared at Colin’s side, Lucy following close behind. “What the devil are you shouting about?”

  “The bloody bastard gave us the cut direct, that’s what. Didn’t have the decency to acknowledge a lady’s presence. Why, I ought to—”

  “That’s enough, Colin,” Lucy said, reaching for his arm. “Though you’re absolutely right. He’s no longer welcome in our home.” She looked up entreatingly to her husband, who nodded his agreement.

  “Damn implacable Tory, anyway,” Mandeville muttered.