Rogues and Ripped Bodices (38 page)

Alex swallowed as they stood outside her bedroom. This was
it. She did mean for him to unwrap her, did she not? Or else he’d look a damned
fool and be mightily disappointed when she led him into her room and handed him
a present.

Relief still ran through him
that she had liked his gift. He had picked it up in Paris and had the portraits
put in it in London. At the time he had thought it might do good to remind her
of to whom she was married, but he had tucked it away realising he had bitter
motives behind the gift. However, after earlier, he knew he wanted to give it
to her for the right reasons. A symbol of their... love? Perhaps. He half
suspected if they had not been brought together by their families’ and
societies’ expectations he might have fallen in love with her that first night.
She had been radiantly beautiful but he had ignored that fact, being too laden
down with expectations and duty.

Emma offered him a secretive
smile and opened her bedroom door. With only the fire lit, the room was mostly
cast in shadow. He regretted he wouldn’t see her properly but it added a
romantic feel to it and if he had learned anything from the men of the Alpine
Club, it was that women loved romance. Besides, he could always draw open the
curtains in the morning and make love to her then.

He pressed the door shut with
his foot and paused to take in the sight of her. He had been remembering her in
her under-things all day, particularly during dinner. Alex had suffered for
much of that meal but found himself enjoying her company very much. It seemed
they had conquered everything with the exception of the bedroom. They were able
to enjoy each other’s company and even talk quite openly. The marriage bed
would be their true test.

His heart hammered and sweat
pricked on the back of his neck. He fought the need to swipe a hand across his
brow. Emma’s throat worked and he noted the flicker of apprehension in her
gaze. Her bold move must have daunted her too, but she had shown great courage.
Courage, he could well admire.

Inwardly he chided himself.
Show him a mountain and he would climb it. Give him a beautiful, willing woman
and he turned into a nervous whelp of a man.

“Come here,” he said huskily.

Emma stepped forwards and he
took her into his arms. Her fingers looped about his neck and her lips
immediately found his. Her eagerness made him smile and dampened some of the
nerves. He took his time kissing her, learning the taste and feel of her mouth.
Running his hands up and down her back, he couldn’t resist rocking into her,
though her skirts gave him little relief. He needed to be pressed against that
soft body.

She began to tug at his necktie
and he released her body to help. The room was remarkably hot and he wanted to
feel her fingers on him. Once he had flung that aside, he slipped off his
jacket, all the while kissing her with clumsy, desperate kisses. Next came his
waistcoat and then she started to work on his shirt. If he had any doubts about
her lack of experience with men, they were now erased. Her fingers were awkward
and she struggled to undo the small buttons. There was no chance she was
practiced at this.

Spreading apart his shirt, she
laid her hands on his chest and he hissed. Her eyes widened and she went to
draw them away but he captured her hands with his own. “Don’t,” he begged. He
needed her touch so badly.

She used her hands to smooth
across his chest and down his stomach, tracing him with fascination. Desire and
gratitude mingled in his gut. She had no lover. She only had him. He would be
her lover. Properly, truly. Nothing could hold them back now.

Except that she was frittering
away his money. But he would deal with that later. A few misspent pennies were
hardly on par with having a secret lover.

He drew out his shirt from his
trousers and undid his cufflinks before she helped him remove his shirt. Her
parted lips and shining eyes were almost the undoing of him. Emma looked at him
as though he was the only man in the world. It humbled him.

Wrapping her in his arms, he
drew her close and her lips tickled a trail across his chest. Her floral
fragrance surrounded him and he drew it in. How had he gone so long without
her?

 “You taste salty,” she
murmured. “I like it.”

He groaned. Did she have any
idea what she was doing to him? In that gown, probably not. He needed to get it
off her as fast as possible so she could know.

Thrusting her back, he turned
her, making her squeal. Before, he might have worried he’d frightened her or he
had done something wrong, but the molten lust in his veins dampened any doubts
and when he pressed his mouth to the back of her neck and felt an almost
imperceptible shudder and heard her gasps, he knew nothing could be wrong
between them.

Alex set to work on her complex
gown, his mouth pressing against the top of her neck. He let his lips linger
there while he finished undoing her dress. Leaving it on her hips, he began to
unlace her corset, feeling more confident now he had dealt with this
contraption several times.

With that loose, he pushed down
her undergarments to reveal one soft shoulder. Her skin was cast in golden
perfection with the light of the fire dancing over it. He kissed a path along
it to her neck, revelling in the way she tilted her head to give him better
access.

Emma began to wriggle
impatiently, and he realised she was trying to free herself from her gown. Apparently,
he was not the only impatient one. He helped her remove it and heard her
relieved, “Oh yes,” that made him smile.

Her bottom pressed against her
drawers, the firm outline visible against the cotton. He smoothed both palms
down them and cupped her rear, drawing a startled gasp from her. He could
become quite obsessed with that beautiful rear, he decided, taking the time to
squeeze lightly. Then he shifted his hands around to her hips to press her
against him.

She moaned. His quiet, innocent
wife moaned at the feeling of his cock pressed against her bottom. Lord
almighty, what had he been thinking running away when he could have been
enjoying this?

He ran his hands up her body to
cup her breasts and chuckled when he found her hands tugging at her corset. He
took pity on her and helped her draw it off. Now only a thin layer of cotton
sat between him and his prize.

That warm, supple body pressed
into him as he explored every part of her with his fingers. He found she liked
her nipples gently plucked and teased, and when he dipped his hands lower and
slipped them under her drawers, she rocked into his erection.

Alex found her hot and wet for
him. He didn’t remember her being like this at all on their first night
together or even the nights after. She had been stiff and quiet. Now she was
moaning and gasping and rolling her hips. He let his finger skim between her
folds several times, finding a spot that made her shudder and loll her head
back against him.

Then he tried rubbing in
circles while kissing her neck and she jerked against him and ground into his
finger. “Oh, Alexander, that feels so good...”

Well, at least he knew he was
doing it right. He continued, savouring each breathy cry, changing the motion
with each of her reactions until it seemed everything he did created pleasure.
She brought her hands up to clutch his upper arms and dug her nails into him
but she would have to tear him to pieces before he stopped. He was determined.
She was the mountain and he would conquer her.

It happened suddenly. Her whole
body went stiff against his and then gave way. A great cracking sound thundered
through the room while she trembled and released a long breath. Before Alex had
a chance to register what the noise was, a great deluge of snow and plaster
swamped the bedroom. Emma screamed as he dragged her back and twisted to cover
her body. They slammed to the floor and he turned his head to view the damage.
Dust and snow swirled in the air and a cold breeze blew through the room.

Emma lifted her head, looking
dazed. “What...?”

Alex pressed away from her and
drew her to her feet. “Bloody hell, the roof just collapsed.”

She peered around him, clutched
his arm and surveyed the mess. It had missed her bed and hadn’t even reached
near where they had been standing but it was a good amount of roof that had
come down. He stepped forwards, forcing Emma to release his arm, and peered at
the whole in the ceiling.

“There must have been snow in
the attic. There’s a hole in the roof, I suspect. The weight was too much.”

“Alexander, be careful.”

Snow and fragments of ceiling
caked her dressing table and the carpet. He shoved the larger pieces aside to
have another look. The hole itself was not huge but would take a bit of work to
fix.

“Damnation.” He turned and eyed
her barely clothed state. Picking up her robe and shaking it off, he chucked it
to her. The servants would no doubt be along after hearing that racket and he
would not have them seeing her half-dressed.

Frustration burned through him.
Would he ever get to bed his wife? It was beginning to look very unlikely.

“You really should have
budgeted for the roof,” he said gruffly as he stepped out of the room and drew
her away, aware they could do nothing until the morning.

She clutched her robe about her
and scowled at him. “I tried my best. I didn’t know there was a hole in the
roof.”

“Which is why you send someone
up there to maintain it. This never would have happened if you had not been
wasting money. I can’t fathom what you could possibly be spending so much money
on but if it is fine gowns and... and bonnets or something, I shall tell you
now, I won’t allow it any longer.”

Her mouth dropped open. She
took a few steps back from him. That dash of fear that so often haunted her
expression was back and if he had been less frustrated, he might have managed
to school his emotions, but he couldn’t. Damn it, all he wanted was a night
with his wife of nearly one year. Was that so much to ask?

“It has not been easy with you
gone. You don’t know what I have had to deal with, what obligations—”

“You are obligated to ensure my
estate is run well. As a duchess, no less is expected from you. Instead, I
return to find half my money frittered away, my castle crumbling and most of my
staff gone.” He pushed a hand through his hair.

Her bottom lip trembled and he
waited for her to retreat, but instead she straightened her shoulders. “Had you
not left and had you helped me understand the running of your estate better, I
might have been better able to fulfil my role. But I had other obligations too.”

“A lover perhaps?” he sneered.
Even as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The idea of a lover had
been born of his own inadequacy. Since yesterday, he hadn’t for one moment
truly believed that. But still, he needed the reassurance.

“No, how dare you? I don’t know
what
you
have been doing this past year, but I would never dream of such
a thing.” Her breasts heaved against her robe and he saw two dark spots of
colour on her cheeks. Emma glanced at the remnants of her room as a sudden gust
sent a whirl of wind and snow around them both. “I will not stand here and be
insulted. I shall sleep in the blue room. Good night, Your Grace.”

Alex cursed under his breath
but didn’t beg her to return. He watched her stalk off to the guest bedroom and
forced himself to uncurl his fists. What a fine mess he’d made of everything.
Had he ruined any chance of happiness between them or was there still a
possibility he could make up for his foolish words? He waited at the top of the
stairs for the servants to ascend when he heard a flurry of activity down
below. No doubt the sound had awoken them.

He would have to do something
for her, he realised. Something to prove how much he cared for her. Maybe even
loved her. He had been selfish in his actions, while she had been utterly
selfless, remaining here and running things for him. Why, she could have gone
to London or stayed with her mother, but instead she chose to stay in the wilds
of Scotland and try to learn how to manage an estate. Was it her fault her
husband was so childish he would not even brave being honest with her?

It was not. And so he had quite
the task ahead of him to prove to her he wasn’t that selfish man anymore. He
only hoped he was not too late.

It took Emma at least an hour of lying in the dark in the
blue room to control her breathing and rid herself of the angry fire burning in
her belly. When it had left her, it also left her cold. The fire hadn’t been
lit in the guest room—another money-saving scheme. She braved slipping out of the
cold covers to retrieve a blanket from the coffer at the end of the four-poster
bed and draped it over herself. Still, she shuddered.

Why had she lost her temper
with him? Why had she not tried to explain? She had intended to before they
slipped into bed, but it never quite seemed the right moment. Alexander stole
all reasonable thought from her with his touches and kisses. Would he
understand or would he be angry with her still? She was a fool but what was she
to do? Abandon Geoffrey to the world? He had nothing and no one. Should
children suffer for the sins of their parents?

She did not believe so for one
moment, but how was she to continue supporting him? Now she was under
Alexander’s watch, she could not, and she refused to lie to him any longer. But
what would Geoffrey do? Well-paid work was not easily come by for a man with no
education, though she knew her brother had tried hard to better himself. She
wished her father had not been so selfish and such a coward. He should have
claimed Geoffrey and helped him. It seemed so unfair Geoffrey should be
struggling while she lived in relative luxury.

In the morning, she would tell
Alexander all. Let him be angry with her, if he would. Emma tossed onto her
side and fought the cold dread in her stomach while bunching the blankets up
around her neck. Perhaps he would decide to leave her again and take out his
annoyance on the mountains once more. After all, a man like Alexander was not
designed to sit around and play lord. He had trusted her to look after his responsibilities
and she had failed. That failure sat like a bitter lump of coal in her stomach.

She’d failed him and she’d
failed to create a good marriage. Would she ever get anything right? Tears
burned her eyes and she swiped them away before burying her head under the
blankets and letting the stuffy warmth envelop her. Perhaps she wouldn’t. It
looked as though her lack of courage had even destroyed any chance at a good
marriage. Oh, how she loathed herself.

***

Emma forced herself out of bed at her usual early hour.
Regardless of what had happened the previous night, it was still Christmas Day
and she would not let all the cook’s preparations go to waste. Not to mention
they needed to at least tidy her bedroom and try to cover the hole in the roof.
The hope that she might be returning to Alexander’s room soon had burned
bright—she never did enjoy sleeping alone—but that looked to be ruined now, so
she needed to move some of her belongings into the guest room.

She rang for a maid and was
grateful to be brought a cup of tea. She sipped the warm liquid and felt it
flow through her and revive her. Tea was indeed the cure for much, she thought.
Why men insisted on turning to strong spirits when a cup of tea did a much
better job, she would never understand.

The maid chattered away,
talking about the large meal Hannah had prepared for the servants and how she
was looking forward to it. Once she and Alexander’s meal had been served,
several of the staff intended to trek through the snow to visit relatives in the
village. The maid’s excitement made Emma smile in spite of herself. How lucky
the girl was to have a family who was desperate to see her. Emma’s own mother
was more interested in social pursuits and Alexander’s family had intended to
come more out of obligation than a desire to see their son and daughter-in-law.

She had meant to ask the maid
about the state of her bedroom, but by the time the maid had finished curling
Emma’s hair and placed some festive green and red ribbons in it, she had
forgotten that intention, such was her inability to get a word in edgeways.

Dressed in an elegant pale
green gown, Emma admired her reflection in the mirror. She smoothed out the
ruffles that enhanced the low neckline and skimmed her shoulders. It was a
rather grand gown for the daytime but it was Christmas after all, and she
wanted to look her best for Alexander. Perhaps if she looked beautiful, he
wouldn’t be so angry with her for giving away his money, though would he accuse
her of frittering away his money again?

Emma had never been one to use
her looks—she hardly knew how—but Alexander seemed to be very attracted to her.
If he wanted her anything like she wanted him, maybe there would be a chance
she could persuade him she was worth staying for. She chewed her bottom lip and
prayed for courage while her heart hammered against her bodice.

Once the maid had left, she
retrieved the shawl the maid had brought with her and draped it about her
shoulders in an attempt to ward off the chill. Emma didn’t slow her pace as she
walked past the closed doors of their bedrooms. She hoped he was up. To sit
around and wait to apologise was more than she could bear. Tension already
coiled tight in her belly.

When she entered the dining
room, her heart sank. Only one place remained set, meaning Alexander had
already taken his breakfast.

“Mr Hampton,” she called when
she had settled at the table and saw the butler slip past the room.

He paused and stood in the
doorway. “Your Grace?”

“Have you seen His Grace this
morning?”

“No, Your Grace.”

Emma scowled. Where was he? Had
he gone out? Perhaps he had decided to take a walk. Perhaps he was still angry
with her. She glanced at the window and saw the snow was still as thick as ever
but at least there was no fresh snowfall. When she looked to the doorway, the
butler had gone, leaving her alone save from the footman standing stoically in
the corner.

She tried to eat but her
appetite was gone. He was going to leave her again, was he not? With a sigh,
she took her cup of tea into the drawing room. She had spent far too many days
eating breakfast alone and she would do so no longer. How much more pleasant
would it be to sit by a warm fire at least.

Snowy jumped off what had
become her chair and scrabbled up her legs. Emma gave her a half-hearted pat and
allowed the dog to clamber onto her lap. A heavy weight sat in Emma’s chest
when she spied the poorly wrapped presents under the tree. A sad smile curved
her lips and she sat to drink her tea while fingering the gold locket Alexander
had given her. 

Oh, his gift. It was still in
her room—likely buried under dust and snow. Still, she should see if she could
find it. It wasn’t much—some monogrammed handkerchiefs—but she had thought she
ought to get him something when he sent word of his intention to return. She
hardly knew him at the time so he had not been easy to buy for.

Did she really know him any
better now? Yes, she thought so. In spite of them only having spent a few days
together, they were building upon their brief courtship and their first difficult
month together. When they had courted, he had been kind and courteous, if a
little stiff. And their first month he had been awkward and a little foul
tempered. These were all facets to him. Individually, some of those traits had
intimidated her, but when combined with his sensual, romantic side, she found
she could quite tolerate them. After all, who could claim to be perfect? Not
her, for certain. Lying to him about her brother had been her biggest mistake.

Placing down the tea, she
coaxed Snowy off her lap and scowled when a thud came from upstairs. Where was
everyone? With the exception of the footman in the corner and Mr Hampton
striding by, the house was terribly quiet. Surely a small dinner for the two of
them didn’t take that much work.

There it was again. She froze
and tilted her head to listen. Another thud. What was going on up there? She
faced Mr Jacoby. “Have you seen His Grace this morning?”

“No, Your Grace,” the footman
replied stiffly as he stepped forwards to take her cup of tea and place it on a
tray.

“Will you go into the kitchen
and see if anyone has seen him please?”

He nodded, disconcertion coming
across his face. Did he know where Alexander was? She waited until the footman
had left and paused to listen to the scuffle. Perhaps the staff had decided to
start clearing up her room without her. She would offer some help and see if
she could not find the duke’s present.

By the time she had ascended
the stairs, she knew for certain that the thuds and scuffles were coming from
her room. Her heart warmed a little, taking away some of the ice that
Alexander’s disappearance had left in her chest. The staff at Balmead—at least
those who remained—were indeed a kindly bunch and she was extremely grateful
for them. She supposed at least when Alexander went travelling again she would
still have them. What a shame she had never achieved her goal of getting with
child.

Emma pressed open the door and
what she saw had her mouth dropping open. Gone was the snow and rubble and her
bedroom had been restored to its former neatness. The bedding had been stripped
and replaced with clean, pressed linens, and her few bottles of perfume and
creams had been righted and placed neatly on her dressing table.

And in the centre of it all was
Alexander, standing on a ladder, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his hair almost
white with plaster dust. The thud turned out to be him hammering a thin sheet
of wood across the ceiling.

“Alexander...”

He paused and lowered the
hammer to smile sheepishly at her. “I’ve boarded it over from the attic. It
shouldn’t collapse again and one of the stable hands helped me seal up the
roof. We’ll need to get someone up there when the snow thaws but there should
be no more accidents.”

“You must have been up for
hours.”

She stepped into the room and
swept a finger across the mantelpiece to find it clean and dust free. Tears
made her vision blurry. No one had ever done anything like this for her. No one
had tried to take care of her problems. The estate had been left for her to
deal with, she had been left in this crumbling castle to maintain it. Even in
her childhood she had been forced to make her own decisions. Her mother wanted
little to do with the silly little girl she had borne and her governesses were
not much better.

Alexander descended the ladder
and placed the hammer down. He closed the gap between them and rested his hands
on her arms. “I wanted to be sure you had a place to sleep should you wish...
that is, if you do not wish to return to our marriage bed.”

“You want me back in your bed?”

“I do.”

She gazed up at this handsome
man—her husband. A little dust fell from his too long hair as he tipped his
head forwards and she swiped a finger down his nose to remove it. His brown
gaze searched her face and she saw the uncertainty there. It seemed the duke
felt just as unsure of himself as she did at times. The idea made her heart
stretch. Perhaps they were more alike than she thought. After all, he favoured
active pursuits over anything else and though she might not climb mountains,
she was happiest when she was productive. Looking after the Balmead estate had
been no easy task but she’d relished it.

“When you left, I didn’t wish
to sleep in there. It felt cold and lonely,” she admitted.

“I don’t wish you to feel
lonely ever again.”

She glanced around the room
once more and fell against him, burrowing her head against the warm hollow of
his neck. “Even if you go off and climb mountains again, as long as you promise
me you shall return and join me in my bed, I shall never be lonely again.”

“I can certainly promise that,
and I have little intention of spending eleven months climbing mountains again.
Besides, Scotland has many for me to explore. I plan to spend as much time as
possible here.”

A smile burst across her face,
completely out of her control. But before she got carried away, she had to
confess her secret. She forced herself to maintain a serious expression and
took his hand to lead him to the bed.

“I must tell you something,
Alexander.”

His own smile dropped but he
let her lead him to sit down. He gripped her hand in his lap and stroked his
fingers over the back of her hand. “You can tell me anything.”

“The money... the estate... I
have not been mismanaging it or spending the money, or at least I’ve tried my
best not to. But, you see... I have a brother.” Emma saw his brows rise in
surprise. No one knew of her brother except for her and her late father. Not
even her mother knew her father had been unfaithful. “My father never claimed
him and his mother died when he was only eight. He found me quite by accident
shortly before we married. He was in the Navy, but under a vicious, horrible
captain.”

“When Geoffrey came to me, he’d
been beaten badly. I could not send him away so I promised him whatever aid I
could. When he left the Navy, I started sending him some of my allowance. And
then once we married, I had him send his bills to me so I could pay them, but
we’ve had some lean months and it’s been getting harder to support him.”

Alexander rubbed a hand across
the back of her neck and shook his head. “This brother, was he here after our
wedding?”