More Than Charming (12 page)

*     *     *

James sat at the table in the breakfast room, awaiting Catherine’s arrival. He thought to wait for his wife to choose his meal from the sideboard, content to sip his tea until she came downstairs. After their lovemaking this morning, he needed time to gather his wits. The way Catherine made him feel . . . He couldn’t put a name to it, or, rather, was reluctant to. Their lovemaking was incredible, that was certain. But he wondered what Catherine felt for him.

James looked up as she stopped in the doorway, lowering her lashes in obvious shyness. He took in her appearance. She wore a lovely day dress of white, dotted with tiny blue flowers. Her hair shone, graceful curls framing her face. He flashed her a smile, which she returned, her dimple making its appearance.

“Good morning, James.”

She walked to the sideboard and he stood to join her. “Good morning, love,” he said, placing a kiss on her cheek.

They helped themselves to some eggs and ham and sat at the table.

James spread his napkin on his lap, eyeing her appreciatively. “You look lovely this morning, Catherine.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you enjoy your bath?”

“Very much so.” She sipped her tea. “It was delightful.”

James finished his meal and waited for her to do the same. “What would you like to do this day?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you wish.”

“Perhaps a stroll about the grounds?” he suggested. “You haven’t seen the gardens for quite some time, I daresay.”

She set her cup down. “I would like that very much. Your gardens were always so beautiful.”

“Our gardens,” he corrected her with a smile.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Our gardens,” she repeated, her eyes sparkling. “I wonder if the roses are still in bloom?”

“I believe they’ve gone to sleep, wife.”

“No matter.” She shrugged. “I’ll enjoy our walk nevertheless.”

They finished their tea and Catherine went upstairs to dress for their stroll. When she rejoined him, she wore a dark blue spencer, the little velvet jacket coming just to her waist. She pulled on kid gloves of soft gray leather and placed her hand on his arm. James led her out the back of the house and into the glorious fall sunshine.

The garden was formally arranged, with graceful statues placed about the area. While no flowers were in bloom this late in the season, the hedgerows were still a vibrant green, thick and squat, dividing the garden into geometric shapes. Marble benches were placed strategically about to allow for the rest and reflection of the visitors. In the center of the garden there was a large reflecting pool, the surface barely rippled in the still morning.

“Oh.” Catherine sighed with pleasure. “It’s as I remembered.”

“What’s that?” he asked, intrigued.

She crossed to the pool to gaze into her reflection. “Elizabeth and I used to sneak out here when visiting,” she confided. “I used to gaze into this pool and let my mind drift.”

He watched her sweet smile as she faced the water, lost in her memories, and smiled in response.

“And where did your mind go then, Catherine?” he couldn’t help asking.

“You’ll think me silly,” she said softly.

He stood beside her and turned her to face him. “Catherine, I would never find you silly.”

She smiled at that. “I used to dream of my future,” she admitted. “Of my husband.”

He smiled widely. “You dreamed of me, did you?” he teased.

She arched a brow at him. “I didn’t know whom I was to marry then, James.”

Did she think of that bloody fool Waltham? He shook his head at his quick flare of anger. What the devil ailed him this morning?

“Well, you’re quite stuck with me, I’m afraid,” he said in more of a serious tone than he’d intended. He led her over to one of the marble benches and sat, pulling her down onto his lap. “Are you happy, Catherine?”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. “Yes, I’m very happy.”

He knew her mind was filled with the intimacies they so recently shared when she lowered her lashes and blushed.

He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Is something troubling you?”

“James, when we . . . ?” she began. “Never mind.”

“Catherine,” he said gently. “Last night was incredible.” He smiled wickedly. “And this morning—”

Her gasp stopped him in mid-sentence. He kissed her open mouth. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Their tongues mated, making him want more. He pulled back, surprised at the passion she could arouse so quickly.

“Catherine.” He breathed. “Let’s go inside.”

She shook her head. “It’s too beautiful out here, James.”

He ran his gaze over her, his eyes settling on her mouth. He lightly nipped her lower lip. “Mmm,” he murmured, rubbing her lips with his. “I could kiss you all day.”

She wriggled in his lap as he devoured her mouth, the motion driving him mad. He placed his hands on her hips to still her.

“Catherine,” he said hoarsely. “If you keep moving like that, I’ll lay you down across this bench and take you right here.”

Her pupils dilated and he hardened.

“Oh, James.” She sighed into his mouth.

“God,” he groaned as she pressed herself to him. He stood quickly, cradling her in his arms. “I don’t care how beautiful it is out here. We’re going inside.”

Catherine nodded, her eyes dark. They spent the remainder of the morning tucked cozily in the big bed in their chamber.

Later on, they took their dinner downstairs in the dining room. They dined on simple fare, sliced roast beef and fresh bread and salads. Catherine eyed James’s plate, piled high with the tender meat.

He caught her eye and shrugged his shoulders. “I need to keep up my strength,” he teased.

She blushed and returned her eyes to the tabletop. He chuckled over her shyness, finding it interesting considering her total lack of that trait in their bed. He said nothing of it to her, however. He took a big bite of bread, content to watch her as she ate daintily from her own plate.

*     *     *

When they finished their meal, James escorted her to the parlor. It was as she remembered, a beautiful room decorated in yellow and ivory. He looked at her with obvious regret and she swallowed her disappointment.

“I have some estate business to attend to, Catherine,” he informed her. “I expect to be back by tea time.”

The kiss he gave her before he left was sweet. Catherine crossed to the window seat, pleased to find a few books resting there. She chose one and settled herself on the yellow-striped cushion. Looking out the window, she spied James leading his horse from the stable. She watched him, admiring the graceful way he moved. He mounted his horse and rode off toward the cottages that dotted the estate, no doubt to see to his father’s tenants.

Catherine sighed and opened the book, trying to lose herself in the simple story. She couldn’t. Thoughts of her husband intruded quite naturally, since she’d given herself to him less than two hours earlier. When he made love to her, she felt incredible, cherished and loved. James never told her he loved her, not even as he held her afterward. She knew that he cared for her. He’d told her as much. And there hadn’t been a repeat of his strange behavior of the morning after their visit to the gardens.

A dark thought flitted through her mind. She remembered hearing of James’s feelings toward Lady Kanewood a few years ago. Had he loved her? Did he love her still? She’d seen them together many times, and nothing was evident to suggest he’d renewed his attentions. She knew Lord Kanewood counted James as a friend. Would that be so if James still had feelings for the man’s wife?

James was friendly toward Becca, but he was so to everyone. He was the most charming man Catherine had ever known. No. She didn’t think he harbored any deep affection for Becca.

But did James love her? He was so attentive to her, so tender. Perhaps that was simply the way it was between a man and a woman who shared intimacies. She squared her shoulders and focused once more on the book in her lap.

*     *     *

James rode the estate, making mental note of such matters as what lengths of fencing needed repair, what trails needed grooming. He paid his respects to his father’s tenants, informing them of his marriage. Without exception, they expressed delight over his news. Apparently, the Earl of Bradford had often shared his wishes to see his son settled down. James accepted their kind words and made note of any repairs that needed to be done to the various cottages.

He left the last cottage and turned his mount toward the main house, eager to see Catherine. On the ride back, the strange feelings that had assailed him that morning surfaced anew. He didn’t much favor such vulnerability. Not one bit. Surely he could charm his way through such feelings. He wouldn’t puzzle through them now. Catherine had made no declaration of love to him, and asked for none from him. Did she love him?

“She damn well better,” he grumbled. He shook his head at that. What place did that prickly emotion have in their marriage? He and Catherine were well-suited to each other. God, how she fit him . . . “Very well-suited.” He chuckled.

And if she came to feel love for him? He’d accept it. As long as she didn’t expect it from him. He’d be damned if he behaved foolishly over a woman again. He almost lost a lifelong friendship the last time he “fell in love”. No, that messy emotion had no place in his life. After the disaster with Geoffrey’s wife, Becca, he’d decided he would keep a tight rein on those sorts of feelings and not allow himself to lose all reason.

He dismounted in front of the stables, handed the reins to the groom and strode purposefully toward the house.

*     *     *

Stepping out of their dressing room that evening before dinner, his muddled thoughts of the morning fled as he spied the stunning beauty before him. Catherine stood in front of the cheval mirror, a lovely gown of deep green wrapping her slender form. Her hair was upswept, teasing curls framing her face. She smiled widely at him, that adorable dimple showing in her cheek.

“Good evening, James,” she said, crossing to him.

“Hello, love.” He held out his arm to her. “Shall we go down to dinner?”

She nodded and placed her hand on his arm.

After dinner, James and Catherine adjourned to the parlor for some cards. They decided to play a game of Commerce, a kind of poker game. Three cards were dealt face down on the table, which the players could discard if they wished. The object was to make pairs, flushes, threes of a kind, and so on.

James dealt the first hand and settled back in his chair. “Do you wish to discard, Catherine?”

Catherine smiled cheekily at him. “Oh, no, James.”

He arched a brow at her. He discarded and took new cards. They turned their cards over and he let out a low whistle. Her hand showed three tens.

“You’ve luck on your side, wife,” he teased.

She grinned and shrugged her shoulders. Play continued.

Catherine won almost every hand, much to his chagrin. After nearly an hour of play, she stilled. James held his cards, puzzling over them as he felt Catherine’s regard like a caress. He looked up as her gaze fell on his mouth. Heat filled him.

“Catherine,” James said in a low voice.

She lifted her gaze a fraction to meet his gaze. “Yes, James?”

“If you continue to look at me in that manner, I’ll have to kiss you,” he told her. “And if I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.”

Her breath caught and she licked those luscious lips. “But I don’t want you to stop. Ever.”

He placed his cards deliberately on the table. Standing, he took her hand in his and pulled her to her feet. “Upstairs.”

She nodded and preceded him out of the parlor and up the grand staircase. When they reached the chamber, James pulled her close, his eyes settling on her rosy lips. He bent his head and gently captured her lips in a kiss.

He pulled back to smile down at her. “Why don’t we get ready for bed, love?”

She nodded and crossed to the dressing room. He removed his jacket and waistcoat, laying both across one of the overstuffed chairs. He sat down and pulled off his boots, his eyes continually settling on the closed door of the dressing room. God, how he wanted her! With barely a kiss, she could set his pulse to pounding. He stood and tugged his shirt out of his waistband and froze, stunned as two slender arms hugged him from behind. “Catherine, you gave me quite a start.”

She moved her hands slowly up inside his shirt, trailing her fingers over his stomach, his chest. James sucked in a breath and turned to face her.

“Hello, husband,” she said softly, smiling up at him.

He stared down at her. She wore only her thin nightgown, her hair a wild tumble of curls. But the invitation in her gorgeous violet eyes? “Your boldness pleases me, love.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Hmm.”

“Just what are you about, wife?” he asked, the delicious possibilities running through his mind.

She shrugged her slight shoulders. “I thought I’d help you undress,” she said, a trace of shyness in her voice.

He grinned and dropped his hands to his sides. She untied his cravat, slowly pulling the neck cloth free. She placed the length of silk around her own neck and he laughed softly. She worked the buttons of his shirt free, caressing his chest with her palms flat, her fingers splayed. James couldn’t be still any longer. He unbuttoned and opened her nightgown, feasting his eyes on her exquisite form. Such full breasts, pert rosy nipples. His mouth went dry.

His shirt fell to the floor only moments before her nightgown. Catherine began to unbutton his breeches, her fingers a bit clumsy. Many women had undressed him, but never before had he felt such desire as when his sweet wife ran her fingers over him, gently stroking him through his breeches. She reached inside to grasp him.

“My God, Catherine,” he moaned, stilling her hand with his own.

She looked up at him, confusion clear on her face.

“If you continue, love,” he told her, bringing her fingers to his lips, “I fear I won’t make it to the bed.”