How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back (22 page)

Emily chuckled. “You don’t look all that bad, you know, and as far as bawling like a baby is concerned, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Well, I applaud your tact, wife. However, you still look like a sex-starved wanton.” He grinned teasingly as she gasped in horror, clearly embarrassed that her wants were so plain for him to see. “Don’t ever hide your needs from me, Emily, whatever they may be,” he told her thickly. “It’s one of the things that I love about you. Now, hurry upstairs so that I may soon join you.”

She needed no further urging to send her on her way, her skirts rustling about her ankles as she jumped to her feet and hurried out the door. Sparing a quick backward glance at her husband, she noted that her eyes were not the only ones that blazed with desire.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
HREE

G
eorgina helped Emily disrobe, handing her a silk dressing gown that was intended for prospective guests. It was a soft, cream-colored garment that fell supplely over her shoulders and felt delightfully smooth against her skin. A dusty pink garland of roses skimmed its edges in a pretty pattern that imparted a sense of femininity to Emily as she now sat before a mirror. With long, even strokes, Georgina brushed out her hair, the black tresses falling lightly about her shoulders. “I hope the room is to your liking, ma’am,” the maid said as she picked up another loose strand and ran the brush over it.

It was the only bedroom that Emily had seen so far at Dunhurst Park, and she was, indeed, quite impressed with the luxury of it. The ivory silk upholstery of the chairs, the gold brocade of the bedspread, and the heavy toffee-colored velvet drapes went together so harmoniously and tastefully that Emily could not think of a more appropriate color scheme. It also had a distinct feel of comfort to it—mostly due to the plush accent rugs and throw cushions that begged those present to relax and unwind.

“Yes, thank you, Georgina. It’s a splendid room—meant for guests, I take it?”

“Indeed it is, ma’am. I’m sure you’ll be comfortable in it while your permanent rooms are being readied.”

“I will not stay here, then?”

“I’m sure his lordship will want you to take over the rooms that once belonged to Lady Elisabeth—they adjoin his own.”

“I see,” Emily said thoughtfully, wondering how Francis would feel about someone else living amongst Elisabeth’s things, even if it did happen to be his wife who was doing so. She would have to discuss this with him at a later date. “Georgina, let us not make any hasty decisions. . . . Sometimes change can be rather shocking. I would greatly appreciate it if you would tell Mrs. Reynolds not to open up Lady Elisabeth’s rooms just yet. Let me have a word with his lordship first, if I may, and I’ll let you know what we decide. Besides, I rather like this room, though it may be smaller.”

She saw the maid smile at her in the mirror. “I’m certain we’re quite blessed to have you as our mistress,” she said. “For someone of your rank, you’re unusually sensitive toward the sensibilities of others. Most ladies I’ve met would have jumped at the opportunity to increase their living space.”

“Well,” Emily said, smiling back at the reflection. “I’m not most ladies.”

“You most certainly aren’t,” Georgina happily agreed.

S
team wrapped itself around Emily when she entered the bathroom, where a large white ceramic tub stood waiting on clawed feet. A rush of warmth filled her lungs as she inhaled the vapor, dampening her mood to one of deep relaxation. “Would you please see that my garments are cleaned and ready to wear by noon tomorrow, Georgina?” she asked in a quiet tone.

“I’ll attend to it myself,” Georgina promised as she stooped to pour some lavender oil into the water. The potent scent wafted toward Emily, swathing her in its sweetness as it soothed her senses even further.

“There’s a pile of white linen towels right here, close at hand,” Georgina told her as she pointed toward a table standing next to the tub. “The soap is on the tray next to them. Will that be all, then?”

“Yes, thank you kindly, Georgina. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Very well, ma’am. I wish you a pleasant evening.”

The door closed and Emily allowed the silk dressing gown to slide off her shoulders—it drifted to the floor. Warmth hugged her naked form as she stepped forward to stroke the still water with the tips of her fingers, scattering ripples across the surface. The water was hot against her skin, almost unbearably so, as she dipped the toes of her right foot, then let them sink in as wet heat swirled about her calf. Bringing her other leg inside, she gradually submerged herself fully, easing her way into the water while her body adjusted itself to the temperature.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled the balmy air, and then let out a long, deliberated breath as she felt the tension ease from her shoulders and her muscles relax. What an unexpected end to a day that had been far from ordinary, she thought. A wry smile curved her lips as it turned to laughter. When she’d met her sisters for breakfast that morning, she certainly wouldn’t have thought that she’d find herself married by nightfall.

How odd—sometimes life managed to unfold in the most unlikely way. Just little more than a month ago, she’d still believed that she would marry Adrian. She harrumphed at the notion. Considering what she felt for Francis, she could scarcely believe that she’d ever entertained such a ridiculous idea—not that Adrian wasn’t pleasant enough or handsome enough, for he definitely was both of those things. But he would never be able to affect her the way Francis did. Francis turned her legs to jelly with a single touch. He made her heart flutter like the wings of a butterfly while molten fire flooded her from head to toe, igniting her senses.

Reaching for the soap, she cursed herself for having been so hard on him all of these years. There had been good reason for his dark mood. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen when Elisabeth Riley killed herself—to think that he had been the one to find her in such a state. . . . No child should be subjected to such horror.

She wondered what had changed. Perhaps time had healed a part of his anger and grief, or perhaps it was just circumstance that had brought them together again. It was odd, really, to suddenly know what she’d been missing all these years without it ever having occurred to her that her life had been lacking in any way. She let out a sigh. There was no point in sentimentalizing over the past—what mattered was that they’d overcome their resentment for one another, allowed their friendship to grow, and fallen in love. Ah, if only all people could experience such bliss—she pitied those who did not.

Lifting her leg, she ran the soap over it to form a trail of suds along its length. She put the soap aside on its tray, then worked her fingers against her skin, enjoying the slippery feel of the lather beneath them.

A faint sound stilled her as she cocked her head to listen. It came again, a small careful creaking of wood. Turning her head, she bit down on her lip as she watched the door ease open, firm fingers gripped around its frame. Her eyes rose along a sturdy form clad in a gray velvet robe until they settled upon a familiar face. “May I come in?” Francis asked with a small degree of uncertainty that warmed her heart.

She nodded in response. The amount of relief that showed upon his face eased the tightening in her belly. He was just as nervous as she, it seemed, though her nod had apparently renewed his confidence. He had closed the door firmly behind him, leaned against it now, and allowed his eyes to linger upon her for a long, unending moment.

She shifted uneasily beneath his gaze, suddenly intensely aware of her nudity. The water offered some comfort, though he could easily make out the shape of her breasts beneath it. “Will you let me attend to you?” His voice was soft with a hint of raw desperation. Again she nodded, this time dismayed by the flicker of light that filled his eyes.

Her bare alabaster shoulders were like a glowing beacon of light at the end of a dark tunnel. They tempted him with their perfection, forcing him to move forward until he stood as close as he could without entering the bath himself.

Such beauty was the stuff of only legends. Yet here she lay, bare before his eyes, his very own nymph.

One of her feet protruded from the water. His eyes flew to it in reflex as she wriggled her toes. Quick heat rose in the pit of his stomach as his gaze followed the arch of it down into the water. His belly contracted at the sight of the pink, shimmering flesh that could only be that of her thighs. Dear God, she’s stunning, he thought as the heat curled into a fiery ball that, as it burst, sent blazing heat down into his groin. There it stiffened before becoming an undulant pulse filled with ravenous hunger.

Soon she would be his, but not just yet. He meant to move slowly tonight, savoring every touch and each response, intent on prolonging her pleasure to the verge of torment. Quieting his own needs, he settled down beside her to the sound of short breaths that quivered upon her lips.

He dipped his fingertips in the water, then dragged them down the side of her neck in a moist line to the rise of her collarbone.

She tensed with anticipation below his touch, her skin prickling as new waves of heat darted across it. “Relax, and close your eyes,” she heard him say in a muted voice that sent frissons scattering down her back. His breath was warm against the curve of her jaw, his lips momentarily brushing against the lobe of her ear—so close that her heart started hammering forcefully against her chest.

Doing his bidding, she closed her eyes against the candles that flickered around her, then leaned back against the tub, letting out a deep sigh of gratitude. For a moment she remained thus, caught in a world of dark comfort that lapped against her from every angle, her mind easing into a lull as she settled into deep relaxation.

Her breath caught when she felt the gentle touch of his fingertips slide across her chest, followed by the soft feel of his cheek as he leaned his head against hers. Supple hands skimmed the top of her breasts as they surfaced and dove, bobbing just below the surface. He wrapped one arm around the other side of her, locking her in his embrace, silky hairs tickling her skin, and she realized that he must have shrugged out of his robe.

Knowing that he was in all likelihood just as naked as she stirred a tingling within her that rolled and swam through her body, dipping and diving, until it finally settled between her thighs.

She inadvertently whimpered as his fingers circled her nipples, her back arched to the deep throaty hum of his voice as he teased them until they perked. Casting back her head, eyes still closed, her back flexed like a bow to meet his caresses, so that her breasts climbed out of the water, shedding water as they rose.

His hand drifted down the length of her breastbone, then further still, to her belly. There was a splash of water as one of her legs lifted, her heel coming to rest against the edge of the tub. She knew what she wanted, he saw—with great satisfaction—as he watched her body succumb to her more carnal instincts. “That’s it,” he whispered, his breath a gentle breeze against her burning flesh.

Waves of heat coursed through her veins, exploding in tremulous bursts beneath his fingertips as he explored her further. A quickening pulse beat like a drum within her womb, spreading waves of pleasure to her groin. Why was he tormenting her so? She was more than ready to feel his touch between her legs, was on the verge of begging for it, when she finally felt his fingers stroke against her. “Oh God,” she murmured as her body ignited in a blaze of flames.

His touch deepened, her sounds of passion spurring him on as he felt his own manhood tighten and stretch at the thrill of the pleasure that he stirred in her. “That’s the way,” he muttered against her cheek as one of his fingers slid inside her. “Let me show you.” And he pushed yet another finger inside as she gasped and shuddered in response.

The fire within her built, higher and higher, consuming her so fiercely that she thought she was sure to combust. It mattered not, however. Nothing mattered at that very moment—nothing save the exquisite bliss that washed over her. Tension expanded in every sinew, taking her to such staggering heights that she knew release must come soon. She hoped and prayed for it, for if it did not, then she felt she would surely die. And then it came, in waves of shudders as she cried out, expelling the pressure that now had turned to thrilling bursts of light exploding behind her eyes.

“Come, let me dry you off,” he told her a while later as she sagged against the back of the tub, lulling in the wake of the storm. “There’s much more that I intend to show you.”

She never would have guessed that passion could be rekindled so quickly—she’d thought herself spent, but the hunger in his voice flooded her senses with renewed vigor. Rising, she stood before him, allowing his eyes to feast upon her every curve. Sparks of light flashed behind his eyes, the corners of his mouth drawn up into a greedy smile.

With great care, he dried her arms, her chest, and her legs until her skin glowed with the freshness that followed a hot bath. Tilting her head toward him, his mouth closed over hers in a soft and tender kiss. “I love you, Emily,” he whispered as he hugged her against him. “I love you so very much.”

Her heart expanded with boundless joy at those words. “Oh, Francis, I love you, too.” He drew back, his eyes searching hers, imparting everything he felt for her in that single gaze. Then his lips were on her again, more urgent than before, parting so his tongue could brush against hers. She yielded instantly, swaying against him as their tongues became one in a hot, wet mixture of erotic passion that knew no bounds. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her into the bedroom and settled her carefully on the bed.

Candles flickered all around, casting dancing shadows across the walls in a blend of yellow hues that mingled with the darkness. Emily cast a look at Francis. Her breath caught as her eyes fell upon broad shoulders and tightly coiled muscles rippling down his arms. His chest was firm, his belly lean, and . . . God almighty . . . she sucked in her breath as her eyes took in his manhood, thick and erect—a clear indication of his need. He was magnificent—a fine specimen of masculinity, indeed.