More Than Charming (22 page)

“James.” She sighed as he moved to nuzzle her neck.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we didn’t attend the ball?” he asked, rubbing his hands over her bare shoulders.

“I do believe we’d be missed,” she answered him, a bit out of breath.

“That,” he drawled, bringing his lips to hers, “is a shame.”

Catherine closed her eyes and leaned into him as James deepened the kiss, pressing her close to him. Their tongues touched, first lightly, then tangling wildly. James groaned softly. With obvious reluctance, he released her and stepped back.

“If we continue, love,” he told her with a crooked grin, “we’ll never make it downstairs.”

She caught her breath and nodded. He gave her one more quick kiss and, taking her elbow, led her from the room.

They met Paul and Michelle where they stood welcoming their guests as they arrived at the grand entrance. Paul wore his formal black, as well, while his wife wore a dazzling gown of topaz.

Michelle smiled widely at them as they descended the staircase. “Good evening, Catherine. Roberts.”

James bowed low to her, turning to nod in Paul’s direction. Catherine’s brother gave him a hearty slap on his back.

“We were worried, brother,” he teased. “Michelle was afraid you’d miss the ball.”

“I’m afraid we were, um, delayed,” James answered, hiding his grin.

Paul nodded, a glint in his blue eyes. “I daresay we nearly missed our own party, didn’t we?” he said to his wife. “Ah, when I saw Michelle in this sinful gown, I simply couldn’t resist—”

“Paul!” Michelle cut in, reddening.

James shot Catherine a knowing look and she was certain she turned nearly as red as her sister-in-law.

James turned to Paul. “And what do you think of your sister’s perfect ears, Leed?”

“What lovely earrings, Catherine,” Michelle said.

Paul shrugged. “I suppose they’ll serve to divert attention from her bosom, which even now is in full view of all of our male guests.”

“Oh, Paul.” Catherine laughed.

“Now, as for my wife’s wicked gown,” Paul went on, “I fear I’ll have to keep very close to her this evening.”

The women’s eyes met, knowing full well that neither gentleman was apt to leave their respective wives throughout the ball. As if to confirm Catherine’s assumptions, James simply nodded and grasped her elbow once more. He led her into the ballroom and to the festive time awaiting them.

The evening proved quite wonderful, full of much merry-making and laughter. Elizabeth seemed her usual cheerful self, much to Catherine’s great relief. Even though they’d settled matters the previous evening, Catherine had harbored the disturbing thought that her younger sister would behave oddly again. Instead, Elizabeth spent the evening dancing with several gentlemen in attendance and driving Catherine quite mad with her incessant chatter.

After taking a late supper, James escorted Catherine to the chairs set up around the enormous ballroom. Elizabeth joined them, fairly trembling as she took a chair beside her sister.

“Oh, isn’t the ball just lovely, Catherine?” she gushed.

Catherine nodded, smiling at her.

“I’m quite surprised Diane isn’t here, however.” Elizabeth pouted.

James arched a brow at the girl’s innocent statement. “Diane Plymouth isn’t in attendance?” he asked, looking at Catherine in puzzlement.

Catherine turned to her sister. “Perhaps the weather kept her away, Elizabeth. It’s quite cold outside.”

“Yes.” The younger girl sighed. “I suppose Lord Henry would worry about such matters. He’s positively ancient.”

“I daresay he isn’t much older than your father, Elizabeth,” James said.

“Oh, but Father isn’t old,” she insisted, looking at her brother-in-law as if he was quite mad. “Tell him, Catherine.”

Catherine hid her smile. “No, Elizabeth, he isn’t,” she agreed. “And neither is Lord Henry, if memory serves.”

“I suppose not,” Elizabeth allowed. “But I’m miffed at Diane Plymouth, I tell you. I fully expected her to be in attendance.”

Catherine opened her mouth to offer some sort of response, but Elizabeth’s happy squeal put an end to that.

“Oh, there’s Constance!” she exclaimed, Diane’s absence obviously forgotten. “I must tell her how much I adore her splendid gown.”

With that, she took off toward the other side of the room. Catherine watched her retreating form. James placed his hand on hers and she turned to face him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Was I ever that utterly disconcerting?” she asked him.

James blinked for a moment. Suddenly, a big grin spread across his features. “That and more.”

Catherine tried to look indignant. She failed miserably, laughing lightly at her husband’s statement. He stood and tugged on her hands, pulling her to her feet.

“James, what are you about?”

“Dance with me,” he said, bringing his lips to her ear. “Puzzle me. Confound me. In short, captivate me, wife.”

She felt that familiar warmth course through her. She followed his lead out onto the dance floor, reveling in the fine music and the wonderful way they fit each other.

As he held her a bit closer than was proper, he brought his lips to her ear once more. “Ah, Catherine,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. “You truly captivate me. And I must say I love the way you feel in my arms.”

Love. He’d said the word and hadn’t perished, though it wasn’t quite the declaration she so anticipated. She looked at him then and his eyes glittered in response.

He opened his mouth to say what, she could only imagine, but the musical number ended just then.

“You’re an excellent dancer, James,” she said, unable to step out of his arms.

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips, taking her by surprise. Glancing toward an alcove, he spied the doors leading out to the courtyard beyond. He looked back at her, his eyes offering an invitation.

“The courtyard, love,” he whispered, sweeping her off the dance floor.

“But,” she whispered back, “it’s bitterly cold outside.”

They reached the doors and he paused. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Her eyes widened as she looked about the room. She was relieved to note that no one appeared to notice their departure as James quickly opened one of the doors and slipped outside. Several torches were lit and placed about the courtyard.

“You see, darling?” James nodded in apparent satisfaction and turned to her. “I knew your brother would have such ancient devices. He absolutely relishes all things Gothic.”

She smiled and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow as he led her toward the far corner of the space. The air was brisk despite the torches and she shivered.

He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Here, sweetheart.”

She pulled the jacket close around herself, breathing in deeply. The garment smelled faintly of spice and brandy. And of James. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“Catherine,” he said, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling her close.

She gazed up at him and read the desire in his eyes. “James,” she whispered, reaching up to place her hands behind his neck. She placed her lips on his and rubbed gently. James sharply drew in a breath and crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue swept inside her mouth, stroking and demanding. He pressed her against the wall and ran his hands over her.

“Ah Catherine, this is what I wanted that night.” He breathed, kissing her cheek, her ear. “The night I asked you to marry me.”

She nodded and pressed herself to him. “I wanted it, too,” she whispered. “Only I didn’t know precisely what it was that I wanted.”

He smiled and ran his lips over her neck. “And now?” he rasped. “What is it you want now, love?”

He ran the tip of his tongue over the skin above the low-cut bodice. Catherine shivered, hot and cold at the same time. “I want . . . I want . . .”

Grinning, he tugged on her gown. She gasped as a blast of chilled air hit her flesh. Her nipples hardened before James even touched them.

He trailed one finger over her breast. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

He closed his mouth over one tip and she nearly burst into flames. The cold of the air, the wet heat of his mouth, affected her as never before.

“Oh, James,” she said in a trembling voice.

He moved to the other breast, gently teething the nipple as he reached under her skirts. Grasping her bottom, he pulled her close. She could feel his arousal through her skirts and rubbed herself wantonly against him. He pulled her hand from his neck and pulled off her glove. He kissed her palm.

“Touch me, darling,” he ground out, placing her hand on himself. “Please.”

Catherine caressed him through his breeches. Her fingers deftly worked the buttons loose. She reached inside and grasped him gently. His flesh was hot against her cool fingers as he grew even harder.

He moved against her hand, moaning softly. “Ah, what you do to me . . .”

He removed her drawers and thrust his fingers deep inside of her and she cried out.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he gently commanded as he slowly drove her mad. “Tell me.”

“You, James,” she softly sobbed. “I want you. Inside me.”

He grinned wickedly. “Never let it be said I don’t bow to my wife’s wishes.”

He placed her arms around his neck once more. He flipped up her skirts and lifted her. Catherine wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her, hard and deep.

“Oh!” She gasped, the feeling intense.

James pressed her against the wall, his hands wrapping around her to cushion her as he thrust into her again and again.

Catherine sobbed as she neared her release, clinging tightly to him.

“Tell me, Catherine,” he rasped. “Tell me you love me.”

“Yes, James!” she cried out. “I love you!”

Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her as James drove deeper still. He joined her in fulfillment, shouting out his own intense pleasure.

“My God, love,” he said in a hoarse voice. “That was better than I imagined it would be.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, closing her eyes in bliss.

As their bodies cooled, the chill of the night intruded once more. They quickly rearranged their clothing. As James shrugged into his jacket, Catherine noticed the scratches on his hands.

“James, your hands,” she said, holding them to the light of the torch.

James regarded the scratches on his knuckles and shrugged.

“Better my hands than your gown. Or your lovely skin.” He grinned. “I am, after all, a gentleman.”

“Yes.” She tenderly kissed the backs of his hands. “My darling gentleman.”

“Come, wife,” he said gently, his eyes glittering with an unspoken emotion. “Before we catch our death in this cold.”

Catherine nodded as she smoothed her hands over her gown once more. She tugged on her glove and patted her hands over her hair. “How do I look?”

His gaze touched her lips, which were swollen and bee-stung from his passionate kisses.

“You look well-loved,” he said with a grin.

He took her hand and led her back toward the manor.

She stopped suddenly and turned to face him emboldened by the incredible passion they just shared. “Am I well-loved, James?”

He stiffened, then seemed to take her question at face value. “You’re extremely well-loved, Catherine.” He drew her into his arms. “And I plan to keep you that way.”

Her shoulders slumped a bit as she realized precisely what he meant. She shook herself and managed to smile brightly at him. They reentered the manor, joining their friends and family once more.

Passion, then. But how long would it be before he tired of a union that offered nothing else save love on her side?

If anyone had noticed James or Catherine’s absence, no mention was made of it. The party was winding down, and most of the older guests had already retired to their guestrooms. James and Catherine strolled over to where Paul and Michelle stood.

Paul regarded them closely. “Brother,” he said to James, “what have you been about?”

James saw that Catherine couldn’t meet their eyes. He gave her arm a quick squeeze and smiled at her brother. “My wife asked me in a most pleasant tone of voice if I would join her for a stroll in the courtyard.”

“But it’s quite cold out, Catherine,” Michelle said.

“I . . . That is . . .” Catherine stammered.

James took her hand in his, rubbing gently. “I kept her warm,” he said. “Besides, Leed, those immense torches warm the space adequately.”

“The torches,” Michelle scoffed. “I would so prefer lanterns installed, but my husband favors those smoky torches.”

“They’re quite medieval, love.” Paul grinned. “Most fitting when I feel like a good brood.”

James laughed at that. Michelle clicked her tongue and asked Catherine if she’d like some refreshment. Catherine nodded and followed her across the room to the refreshments and joined some of the other young ladies present. James watched her go. Lord, she was lovely. And passionate. His friends’ voices broke through his musings and he saw that Chester and Geoffrey had joined them.

“Lovely bash, Leed,” Geoffrey offered.

Paul nodded and asked a servant to bring some brandy for them. It arrived and Paul offered James a glass.

“This will warm you, brother,” he said.

James nodded and took it.

“Roberts, what happened to your hands?” Chester asked.

James glanced at his abraded knuckles. “I, um . . . I suppose I scraped them when I was out in the courtyard.”

Paul looked at him strangely, then suddenly threw his head back and laughed. The other two gentlemen exchanged a puzzled look. James bristled nervously as their gazes settled on him.

“You suppose so, brother?” Paul laughed. “Oh, come now. I can’t help wondering, however, if you scraped them on the bench or on the wall.”

“Never mind.” James turned to Chester, his mind returning to the puzzle of Diane Plymouth and her apparent interest in Waltham. “Chester, did Constance mention anything about Diane Plymouth regarding her absence?”

Chester took a sip of his brandy as he nodded his answer. “Yes,” he allowed. “Constance was quite surprised to find the lady absent.”