Her Foreign Affair (36 page)

“Dad.” Drew caught up with him just outside the library door. “I found the missing item.”

Court glanced back into the library, but no one seemed to have heard the announcement. “Good. Where did you find it?”

Drew followed as Court headed for the front door.

“Under Grandmother’s pillow.”

“The sneaky old bat.” Court shook his head and grasped the knob at the same time a knock sounded from the outside. “Hang on to it for now. I’ll get it from you at dinner.” Yanking the door open, he caught Larry’s fist as it fell for a second knock. “Come on in. You’ve been labeled a poser, you git.”

“What?” Garment bag slung over one shoulder, a wrapped package under his arm, and a look of bewilderment on his face, Larry looked as silly as Randi thought. “Who would call me that?”

“My temporary assistant.” The thick oak door closed heavily, shutting out the chilled night. “Expect to dress here, do you?”

“Oh, I’m much too curious to pass up an overnight. Do I get my usual room, or do I have to double up with Drew? Or, heaven forbid, you?”

“You’re just lucky you don’t get the barn.” Court chuckled, thinking of Randi’s threat. “You double with Drew. I already have my roommate assignment.”

“Randi’s really here?” Larry handed the wrapped parcel to Drew, hung his bag on the coat tree, and shrugged out of his jacket.

“Martin will move your car later,” Court told him. “I don’t think the valets are here just yet.”

“Such hospitality. I came to meet your assistant. And if the fair Randi is here, might I presume the mystery daughter is as well?”

“She is. You’ll get to meet her at dinner. People are about to go up to dress as we speak. Myself included.” Court waved at Drew behind his back. “Why don’t you wait in the drawing room with a snifter of brandy for a bit before doing the same? I’ll send Albert along in a few minutes. I need to get Randi settled and give her a bit to rest and refresh. The poor thing hasn’t had a nod of sleep in days.”

“I thought she’d just arrived?” Attenborough let himself be guided into the drawing room where a girl newly hired from their usual caterers in Littlehampton had just finished lighting the fire. A bit nervous with this, her first job, she’d been growing more comfortable with the family, but Larry was enough to throw her off her stride for a minute. She smiled shyly and flushed when Larry smiled back. “Thank you, sweetheart. I feel it warming my cockles already.”

“Care for a pot of tea?” she asked, anxiously wiping her hands on the apron she wore over a black skirt and white blouse.

“I’ll be fine with the port and brandy, my dear.”

“Yes, sir.”

Court gave her nod, and she escaped, quietly closing the door behind her.

“You’ll be all right here?” he asked his friend. “It’s just for a few minutes.”

“Don’t leave me too long, or I’ll go searching for the maid. Or to find this mysterious daughter of yours. At least give us a clue as to her true age. What I don’t understand is why all the intrigue.”

Court laughed. “I like torturing you. You’ll find out soon enough. Relax, put your feet up. Albert will be along shortly.”

“Go on. I can amuse myself drinking your fine liquor.”

On an exhale of relief, Court shut the door behind himself. Why didn’t he escort Larry into the library? He was certainly close enough to be considered family. Randi had the right idea after all, teasing Larry really was too much fun.

Once more he entered the library and stopped. Randi, delicate and pale, exhausted and glorious, talked with Liza and Albert while Birdie perched on the arm of her grandfather’s chair. As if old RJ needed her protection from the dowager who was currently trying to grill him between little frowns shot at Randi. Bryon and Jamie were too engrossed in their handheld games to take much notice of any of the adults.

“Martin.”

His man straightened up and turned his way. “Sir?”

“Attenborough’s car is out front, his bag in the hall.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Randi’s luggage is in my room?”

“And Sally has it unpacked, but sir…”

Martin’s hesitant manner drew Court’s attention from Randi. “What is it?”

“Sally didn’t find any suitable clothing for dinner. In fact, she said…” Martin tried to school his face into perfect blandness, but his flush ruined it.

“Spit it out, man.”

“Ahem. Well, sir, it seems Ms. Ferguson packed a couple of wrapped packages and mostly lingerie. A pair of jeans and a sweater. Lightweight sandals. Nothing at all appropriate for dinner, much less an English winter.”

Biting his lip only worked for a second. “I see.” Only lingerie? The prospect nearly made him dizzy before reality set in. “I doubt Liza has anything that will fit Randi. I hate to ask, but are there any pieces of Beatrice’s clothes stuck in a closet somewhere?”

“No sir. As you requested, every scrap was donated to charity. However, I did take the liberty of calling to the boutique in the village. Ms. Sanders is running a few outfits over. I was able to get Ms. Ferguson’s sizes from what she did pack. I told the shop to send you the bill and tack on ten percent for the extra service.”

Just like Martin to be cheeky. As long as Randi had clothes, Court didn’t care about the cost. “Excellent. The moment they arrive, send them up to my dressing room.”

“Yes sir. Once this holiday is over, we need to have a quiet word.”

“I know I’m running you through the wringer. Can’t be helped.” Court clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll get through this, and then I owe you a long, exotic vacation.”

“Mustique?” His man rapidly blinked his eyes in surprise. “All expenses paid?”

“Absolutely. Right after the New Year. How does that sound?”

“After the wedding? Can’t possibly leave before then.”

“Ahead of me as usual.” Court squeezed Martin’s shoulder, then released him. “How could we manage such an event without you?” Indeed, Martin would be mortally offended to not direct the entire affair. “However, we have the here and now. Once the clothes are sorted, check on Attenborough would you? I’m sending Albert and Liza his direction. Five minutes, Martin, and send a maid up with the pot of tea, as we discussed.”

“On my way.” The butler’s mood deflated slightly, and he sighed but headed for the door. Martin’s sigh reminded Court of Eeyore, but Court also knew the man did it mostly for show and would come through. He couldn’t stand anything less than perfection.

Convincing Randi to retire took little effort. Getting his sister and her husband to let her go was the greater issue. Finally, he led her up the stairs. “I promise there’s a fresh pot of tea waiting. Guaranteed to refresh you long enough to make it through Christmas dinner.”

“I certainly hope so. Sure there isn’t time for a cat nap?”

“There’s just enough for a bit of tea, a somewhat unhurried shower, and time to dress.” He threw open the door and swept her up into his arms.

“Court!” she exclaimed, and linked her arms around his neck before gathering her wits enough to ask, “Dress?”

Once inside, he shut the door with his shoulder while she looked around.

“This is your room?” She stiffened.

“Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I had your things brought here. We’re a bit full. Hard to imagine with as many bedrooms as we have.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I’m not sure I approve. Rather presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

Sensing a rising temper, Court bent his head to kiss her. He didn’t start bold and brash in a way she’d certainly reject, but soft. Tender. Slow. Taking her little by little, doing his best to clear her mind of anything but loving him.

The main problem with his plan was he fell victim to the kiss as much as she did. Wanting to take her right there, he forced himself to ease away and head across the room. Randi’s head dropped back as she too fought for air.

“What was I thinking of before? There was something…” she gasped.

“Dressing.” Thankfully, she melted against him again. “If you’re worried about clothes, Martin was able to dig up one or two items which might work. I hope you’ll forgive us, but the maid who unpacked your luggage said you didn’t have much besides lingerie. While I certainly wouldn’t mind if you ate dinner in a silky negligee, I’d hardly let you do it with my family. I’d rather save that for dinner alone. Just the two of us.”

“Oh.” She stared up at him, green eyes wide and void of guile, so dreamy he could almost see starlight in them. Even her small frown was adorable. “Clothes? You mean, I didn’t pack one dress?”

She really was in a fog. How could a woman not know what she’d packed? “Apparently not. I haven’t seen the contents of your suitcase yet. Or were you going for the Madonna look again?”

“Your employees are discussing my wardrobe?” Her jaw dropped open as if the very idea was horrendous.

“It’s all right, darling. They’re paid to be discreet. Servants who publicly air family secrets find themselves unemployed.” Although they would talk amongst themselves. “Eventually, you’ll get used to being taken care of, by both me and the staff. Just remember we have your comfort and best interests at heart. Lord knows they’ve saved me from more than a few
faux pas
that could have embarrassed the family greatly.”

He set her down beside the fireplace. Tea waited on a table next to a reading chair, but he didn’t let her sit just yet, because he had the urge to kiss her again. He told himself he did it to get her mind off insignificant details. Since that worked so well, and she didn’t seem motivated to undress herself, he started doing it for her.

In just a few moments, he had her layered tops off, leaving only her bra. A festive confection of red lace and green satin. If the rest of her lingerie was along these lines, the servants would be talking for years to come. She didn’t protest when he unsnapped her jeans and pushed them far too easily over her hips, though he did close his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks. The panties matched the bra. Jeans at half mast, he gently pushed her into the chair and knelt to tug off her low-heeled leather ankle boots. It only took a moment to pull off pants and socks, which he tossed aside. That finished, he drew up an ottoman and inserted his knees between hers. Something about the action woke her up, and he had to act fast to keep her off balance for just a little longer. A point to remember, jet lag aided in making her compliant.

“Come here, darling.” Gently tugging on her legs, he pulled her close enough she all but straddled his lap. Only the strongest of will power kept him from slipping his fingers beneath the thin panel covering her. With one deep inhale, he drew in her scent overlaid with the warming aroma of her arousal.

“Court, what are you doing?” She braced her hands on his chest.

Willpower, he reminded himself.

“There’s something I want to share with you while we have a moment of quiet. It has the side benefit of helping you wake up just a little bit.”

“You won’t let up until you get your way, will you?” Randi leaned forward so her head rested on his shoulder, turned so she could watch him pour. “Not that I could ever resist you for long.” Her sigh and all that lovely skin of hers made it hard to concentrate on the job before him.

“Not a chance, so you might as well go along.”

“Pretty pot. Yixing Sky Dragon.”

“Very good. I knew you were an expert at tea ware. Now pay attention. This tea is very special. Ever hear of Tieguanyin?” He lifted the small pot and poured enough to fill one tiny cup half way.

“Arguably the most expensive tea in the world. Named for the Buddhist deity Guan Yin also known as the Iron Goddess of Mercy. The package I left for you in New York. Reportedly the same blend used by the Chinese White House.”

“Can’t sneak anything past you. So you know how special this tea is. Mostly because you bought it for me, but also for its rarity. This is the first time I’ve brewed this particular blend of it.”

“I’ve only had a taste. Merely a sample in New York.” Randi sat up, leaving only enough room between them for the cup he now held.

“Our own little tea ceremony.” Catching her gaze, he drew in a deep breath. The moment was now. She had to know this was special. Real. Forever. “Randi Jean Dailey Ferguson, I welcome you to my home. What’s mine is yours. Everything. My resources, my strength, me, all of which pale in comparison to the love for you in my heart.”

That tender organ pounding so hard for a moment he feared it’d jump from his chest and land in her lap, he held the small cup to her lips. A hint of moisture made her eyes look like deep mossy pools. Or was the moisture in his? Eyes staring into eyes, green into blue, the catch in her breath, the fluttering beat at the base of her throat matched his, and her trembling as she placed her hands lightly over his and carefully sipped from the cup echoed in his soul.

“Courtland Bailey Robinson, I accept your hospitality, even forgive you for assuming I’d share your bed, and offer my desire to share all that is mine with you.” She gave him a tiny, wavering smile. “Most of all, I offer to you me, my heart, all my love, and every single one of my remaining days and nights.”

An indescribable warmth filled him, rendering words unnecessary, nay, impossible for several heartbeats. They stared into each other’s eyes, their hands connected where they wrapped around the tiny tea cup between them.

It was perfect. As perfect as each time they made love.

After a long, deep inhale, he too sipped, never once breaking eye contact. Rough though it was, he found his voice. “All that I am, body, heart, and soul, I give to you.”

Randi’s breath hitched again, her mouth parted, then closed. He’d rendered her speechless, and he smiled, feeling extremely satisfied. Holding onto the minimal excuse of a ceremony, he offered her another taste of the cup. She sipped and guided the cup back to his lips. As he drained it, the tip of her tongue slipped out just enough to capture a lone drop on her lip.

To hell with the ceremony. He thrust the clay vessel toward the table with one hand and hoped it landed right, because his other hand pulled her the last few inches right up onto his lap. Like the brilliant woman she was, she read his mind, or had the exact same thought, because her hands cupped his face, and she wrapped her legs around his body as their mouths met already open and hungering.