The Husband Trap (13 page)

By him. Only by him.

Yet when the moment arrived, when she sensed his need to join with her, she balked, stiffening despite her undeniable ardor.

He leaned over her, trembling and ready. Then he stopped, noticing her sudden reluctance. He cupped her cheek in his hand, gazed into her eyes.

“What? What is it?”

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew. She was afraid, remembering the pain of his entry. The first, the only time she had ever made love.

In sudden decision, he tumbled them over the sheets, flipping onto his back so she rose above him. He should not have forgotten, he reminded himself, tonight was for her.

“It won’t hurt this time,” he told her. He traced a single fingertip along her breastbone to her stomach. Then spread his palm flat on her skin, just above the juncture where her body wept for him.

“How you felt earlier when I touched you here?” He slid his fingers between her legs, stroked her slowly, intimately. “Having me inside you will feel even better, I promise.”

Her body quavered beneath his nimble hands, then he drew them away. “You take me tonight.”

“Take you? I don’t understand.”

“Yes you do. Here.” He caught hold of her hips, positioned her legs so she straddled him, his tip poised against her entrance. He caught hold of her hands, drew them forward to rest them on his chest. “Leverage.”

Leverage? She nearly laughed, stunned by the concept. Then she trembled, caught in an agony of longing and uncertainty.

“If it hurts,” he said reassuringly, “you can always stop.”

Buoyed by the idea, Violet hesitated only a second more before she sank downward, the full, powerful stretch of him filling her, almost too full, too big. But he was right, there was no pain. Only a deep, compelling ache of desire. She moved her hips, took more, as much of him as she could handle.

“Now what?” she panted.

“Now you move. Up and down, over and over again until the exhilaration sweeps you away.”

And doing as he instructed, she soon understood why he craved this. How their bodies were perfectly formed to feed each other’s mutual needs, to satisfy each other’s hunger. She sank onto him, catching a rhythm, riding the dark waves as they thundered through her. Her thinking mind ceased to function as her body took control. She heard her gasping cries but barely recognized them as her own. She heard his choked exclamations but found nothing shameful in them.

Then, lungs pumping for air, muscles quaking from the strain, the crisis hit her once again. She shook all over, stars and moons sailing through her head as ecstasy flooded her system.

Exhausted, replete, she collapsed over him.

Adrian rolled her onto her back and plunged deep, as deep as he could go. Clasping her hips in his hands, he raced to find his own release. It seized him in its grasp moments later, so strong he shouted against the force.

Floating in a haven of warm bliss, he buried his face in the damp curve of her neck and waited for the shock waves to subside. Only when his brain quit spinning did he realize she’d fallen asleep.

Violet surfaced slowly, curving her arms up over her head as she stretched in pure, lazy contentment against the fine linen sheets. She reached out a hand for Adrian, and found nothing but cool empty space on his side of the bed.

From the amount of light in the room, she realized it must be full morning. How long ago had he arisen? she wondered. She wished he were still here. She missed him already. His pillow even now bore a slight indentation from where his head had lain. She tugged it into her arms and snuggled her face into the crease. Breathing him in, she remembered the night past with a well-satisfied smile.

After their first delectable bout of lovemaking, she had fallen into a heavy, dreamless slumber. He had roused her twice more during the night to make love, as if he couldn’t get enough. He came into her the last time as dawn broke through the lightening sky in brilliant shades of pink and orange. By rights she should be exhausted. Yet she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so splendidly rested. She savored his scent on the pillow once again, then sat up.

The bedroom door opened a crack and Agnes peered inside. “Are you awake, your Grace?”

Violet quickly drew the sheet up to cover her naked breasts. “Yes, come in.”

Agnes bustled through the door, closed it at her back. In her hands, she carried a large copper urn, several fluffy towels draped over her arms. “Good morning, your Grace. I hope you slept well. I’ve brought hot water.” She set her burden down near the fireplace. “His Grace thought you might like a bath. Shall I ring for the tub?”

“Yes, a bath would be nice.”

Agnes gave the bellpull a tug, then crossed to yank back the drapes. A flood of rich, warm sunlight crowded into the room.

“What time is it?” Violet inquired.

“Just past noon, your Grace.”

“Noon! Oh, I never sleep so late.”

Agnes paused, surprise plain on her face.

Violet realized what she had said and moved quickly to correct her error. “I mean, I never sleep so late in the country. Only in Town.”

Agnes relaxed, nodded in understanding. She bustled toward a massive walnut wardrobe ranged against the far wall. Opening its heavy double doors, she withdrew a dressing gown, carried it over to Violet. “His Grace said you were tired from the journey and to let you sleep in.”

“How considerate of his Grace,” Violet murmured. Obediently, she climbed from the bed to slip into the robe. The garment was gorgeous, cut from a length of cream-colored sateen, heavily embroidered with gaily-hued lilies, tulips and irises.

She observed that Adrian had also been considerate in another matter—her nightgown and robe laying neatly draped over one of the straight-backed side chairs. The brandy glasses and playing cards gone from the table. Violet hugged a small, secret smile to herself, remembering anew.

“His Grace is a lovely man,” Agnes volunteered. “If you don’t mind me saying so, your Grace. All the servants have nothing but praise for his kindness and generosity.”

“You are right, Agnes. I am a very fortunate woman.” Agnes had no idea how very fortunate, Violet thought, since but for a stroke of fate she would not be standing here right now. Her sister would.

Agnes had just finished pinning up Violet’s hair when a knock sounded on the door.

“That must be the tub,” Agnes said.

Violet loitered near the window as two of the servants, Robert and Harry, carried in the large metal bathtub. The men deposited their burden, then departed, returning shortly bearing four large buckets of steaming water. They poured it into the tub, turned to leave.

“Oh, Robert,” Violet said. “Pray tell, how is my dog this morning?”

Robert turned, eyes lowered in deference to her relative state of undress. “Oh, he’s doing well except for his needing to add a few pounds. He passed a fine night in the stables, your Grace. Wolfed down a hearty breakfast this morning and licked the bowl clean for good measure.”

“Excellent.” She smiled. “If you would bring him round after I dress and eat my breakfast, I shall meet both of you outside.”

“Of course, your Grace. I’ll have him ready. He’ll be eager to see you, I’m sure.”

“Have you seen the duke today, by chance?”

“Oh, yes, your Grace. He spent some time walking the estate with Mr. Grimm this morning. Then I believe he took Mercury out for a gallop.”

“Well, thank you, both of you.” She nodded to include the other footman. “That will be all for now.”

The men bowed respectfully and left, shutting the door behind them.

“Robert is frightful brave, taking care of that great bounder of a dog.” Agnes’s eyes widened, realizing what she had said. “Oh, beg pardon, your Grace.”

“Are you afraid of Horatio?” Violet asked, astonished at the idea. “You needn’t be. He is quite large, I concede, but he is sweet underneath, with a good, true heart.”

From the maid’s expression, Violet could tell she was far from convinced.

“Actually,” Violet mused as she approached the bathtub, “he reminds me of the duke in that respect.”

“The duke?” Agnes gasped, then giggled. “Whatever can you mean, your Grace?”

“Well, they are both of them very large, fearsome creatures when threatened. Yet undeniably sweet on the inside. You said so yourself, the duke is a lovely man. A man with a pure, true heart, good as gold.”

A good, true heart that she was deceiving.

Violet pushed aside the rush of guilt that claimed her, slipped out of her morning gown and stepped into the warm bath. Leaning her head back against the side of the tub, she let the water lap around her in a soothing wave.

“See to my breakfast, will you?” she asked Agnes in a quiet voice. “For some reason, I’m utterly ravenous this morning.”

Chapter Eight

Afternoon sunlight streamed downward, so brilliant Violet had to raise a hand against it as she exited the house an hour and a half later. Her shoes crunched noisily on the crushed-shell drive as she walked, a steady breeze blowing in off the nearby coastline easing what would otherwise have been a hot day. And in the air, tangy and strong, hung the scent of the sea, perfume-rich roses sweetening the mix.

She closed her eyes and drank it in. Relishing the moment as the wind enfolded her in gentle arms, mischievous airy fingers plucking at her hair and long skirts.

Moments later another pair of arms, real arms, slipped around her from behind. They pressed her back against a tall, firm, masculine body. A body she recognized immediately, having spent the past night curled snugly against it.

“Adrian.” She sighed on a smile.

He bent his head, smoothed his lips over her neck and along the underside of her jaw. “Good afternoon, my sweet. Or perhaps it still seems like morning to you.”

She laid her hands over his. “If it does, you are entirely to blame. You are the one who told Agnes to let me sleep in.”

He tipped her head back, feathered kisses over her cheek and lips. “I thought it only fair, seeing how thoroughly I wore you out. You were sleeping as soundly as a child when I left.”

She turned in his arms. “You should not have left. I missed you when I woke.”

Heat flared in his eyes, his voice deep and intimate. “I feared if I stayed we might never leave the bed at all. I thought it best not to scandalize the servants.”

Violet stroked a hand over his chest, peeking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. She surprised herself a moment later when she said, “A little scandal would not have hurt them, I think.”

Adrian laughed, his white teeth flashing.

“You have been riding,” she remarked, needing to distract her thoughts. “You have the scent of horse about you.”

He drew back a few inches, stiffening slightly. “My apologies. I was just heading into the house when I saw you. Shall I go in and change?”

Jeannette would have insisted, she knew. Likely she would have followed him inside and changed her own clothing as well since they had been embracing. She supposed she ought to react exactly like her twin. Yet she abhorred the idea of putting any sort of distance between her and Adrian, especially over such a minor matter. Surely he wouldn’t notice the difference.

She pulled him close again. “No. You are fine exactly as you are. Change or not as you wish, your Grace.”

He paused, a pleased light entering his eyes before he bent to drop a tender kiss upon her mouth. He paused again, then returned for a second helping as if he couldn’t bear to deny himself. The kiss heated, deepened, bodies quickly overruling minds.

Before anything too torrid could ignite, a series of loud, boisterous barks interrupted their embrace. They drew apart with rueful reluctance, a large blur of black and white streaking their way.

Horatio ran full tilt toward her, paws pounding across the drive. He slowed seconds before he reached her, rear leg muscles gathering to jump, his large wet tongue already extended, ready to bathe her face in canine kisses.

“Horatio, heel,” Adrian said with forceful command.

Horatio broke stride, getting in only a single lick across Violet’s cheek before he whimpered and settled onto his haunches.

An instant later, Robert rounded the side of the house at a dead run, skidded to a breathless halt when he saw the tableau already formed. “Oh, pardon me, your Graces,” he panted, bending at the waist to draw breath. “I am sorry. He got away from me…slipped his leash.”

Having been denied the delight of thoroughly licking her face, Horatio snuck a couple of wet swipes at her hand. She watched him surreptitiously peek at Adrian to see if his defiance had been observed.

It had.

She stroked his furry head, his tail wagging like a metronome. “That is all right, Robert,” she said. “He is simply full of puppyish exuberance.”

Robert and the duke exchanged a speaking look.

“He requires a long walk to wear off the worst of his pent-up energy, that is all, I am sure,” she concluded, leaning over to thoroughly massage Horatio’s ears. The dog closed his eyes in ecstasy.

“What he needs,” Adrian said, “is lessons in deportment. He is an utter barbarian.”