Tonight or Never (28 page)

"Are we lost?" she asked plaintively.

"No."

"Are you sure? I think we went by this lake before and—"

"We are not lost."

"But John—"

"Chloe."

She exhaled nosily. She knew they were lost!

Why didn't he admit it?
Men
.
Something came into view up ahead.
A small roadside inn.

"Look, an inn! Why don't you go in and ask them the direction to—"

"We are not lost!"

"You've been saving that for hours. I don't understand why you just don't ask someone how to get there! We've been traveling in circles forever!"

John clenched his teeth. "Madam, I will find it."

Chloe's shoulders sagged. Men could be so cussedly stubborn!

Another hour went by and dawn was starting to break. The same inn came into view.

Chloe made a sound of disgust.

John was suspiciously silent.

"We might as well forget it; the man is probably in
Wales by now," she added flippantly.

"We'll try another night." He headed them back home. He hoped it
was
the way back home.

By the time they reached the front steps, cold and tired from the night's journey through damp woods and misty vales, Chloe refused to speak to him.

Of all people, Percy was there on the front steps to greet them.

"Been out for an early morning ride, what?" He smiled gaily at them.

"Didn't know you were the early morning type, Sexton; leave it to a lovely bride to change a man for the better!" He fluttered his lace-trimmed sleeve in the air. "
Nulla
dies sine
linea
—Not a day without something done!"

John inhaled deeply, staring stonily at the fop.
In Latin.
Percius
, I am
readius
to
strangleus
.

"Actually, John and I decided to view the entire countryside from Brighton to
Portsmouth. Several times," Chloe volunteered sarcastically, while jumping down from the horse. She did not wait for John to help her. "It seems Lord Sexton is an
expert
on the landscape."

With that, she trounced into the house, leaving the men standing there.

"Zounds!" Percy watched her enter the foyer. "Don't look good for you, my man. Perhaps I could give you a few pointers?" he added helpfully.

John looked at him incredulously. The night wasn't bad enough; now Percy was offering to instruct him on how to deal with a woman!

"Come back into reality, Lord Cecil-Basil," he murmured dryly before heading toward the door.

"Quite." Percy blinked, his
beringed
hand scratching the side of his powdered head.

He smiled ever so slightly.

Chapter Twelve

Of Dark Armoires and Dark Horses
…

Chloe stormed in the house and up the center stairway, right past
Deiter
and Schnapps, who were coming down for breakfast.

The dour German watched her march by him with a pensive look.

A few seconds later, John came in and, with a firm tread, started to follow the path his wife took up the stairs.

Deiter
stopped him as he came abreast of him.

"A word with you, John," he decreed in his usual clipped way.

"Can it wait,
Deiter
? I need to—"

"We will walk out to the pavilion. Schnapps needs some air." With that pronouncement, he marched down the stairs, thoroughly expecting Lord Sexton to be following.

Muttering under his breath, John trailed after him. He couldn't even guess what this was about.

Deiter
strutted across the lawn in short, choppy steps, heading to the edge of the wooded glen.

John was not in the mood for this; he was tired and wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a hot bed—the latter a compliment to his wife's superb ability to generate heat under the covers.
In all ways.

The truth was
,
he was getting rather spoiled by her warm, velvety presence curled up to him when they slept. The other night, when she had left the bed briefly, he had noticed that he couldn't sleep until she came back.

She was probably in bed right now.

The image of Chloe sleepy and warm in the middle of the bed, waiting for him, was enough to make John increasingly impatient. "
Deiter
, if you would please just tell me what—"

"
Sha
!"
He looked at him sternly. "Schnapps needs the silence."

"For what?"
John was annoyed and perplexed.

"To do his business."
Schnapps gave John a wounded look.
Deiter
placed the small dog gently on the ground.

John rolled his eyes.
"For God's sake!
I want to—"

"
Sha
!"

John's nostrils flared.
Silently.

Schnapps tiptoed across the edge of the lawn as if he were made of glass and much too delicate for such a mundane task.

John rubbed his eyes. The way Chloe had stomped off it was unlikely she was actually waiting in bed for him anyway.

Finally Schnapps
finished,
running back to the security of his master's arms.

The allusion to John's wanting to run into his wife's arms in bed was not lost on Lord Sexton.
Good God, I'm thinking like a dog!
An attitudinal dog, at that
.

Deiter
casually petted the small head of his pet. "Do you know how to please a woman?"

At first John wasn't sure whether
Deiter
was talking to him or the dog. When the Bavarian pierced him with his unwavering glare, John realized it must be him.

Did he know how to please a woman! Where had the man been for the past thirteen years?
Ah, yes, sleeping
.

"Somewhat," he answered sardonically. He didn't even want to speculate where this was leading.

"They are such delicate creatures. They must always be romanced."

"
Mmm
."
John was noncommittal. The vision of
Deiter
romancing was too much to take on an empty stomach.

"I have noticed that you wish your wife to pay more attention to you."

John tripped. "What?"

Deiter
ignored his incredulous face, plowing on. "You must cater to her whims,
ya
?"

Oh, this was rich.
Deiter
was giving him advice on women!
First Percy, now this.
Must be some kind of infamous holiday today
.

Deiter
frowned at the scoffing sound. "Once there was a man in my village…"

Not another village story
! John groaned.

"He pleased many women, but could not please
one
woman."

John squinted at him.

"We tied him to the barn for two years."

"Is that all,
Deiter
?"

"
Ya
.
Remember, John—woo her!"

Lord Sexton was already heading back to the house. Wooing was not what he had in mind.

John Sexton had never been referred to as "Lord of Wooing."

Chloe pulled together the sides of her dressing gown, peering into the wardrobe for something to wear.

The outfit she had worn during their ride was draped haphazardly over a chair. She wouldn't
be needing
it for several days.
Damn and blast
!

Since the Black Rose had left his latest "deposit" on their doorstep last evening, it was reasonable to assume the man would not be active again for a while.

She pursed her lips. If John hadn't been so stubborn and had asked someone how to get to
Randolph, they might have already confronted him!

The irritating thought angered her all over again.

She stepped inside the wardrobe and closed the door.

This called for some very unladylike venting.

John entered their rooms, surprised not to see Chloe.

At first.

Until he caught the faint sound of French steam coming from the wardrobe.

He recognized his name liberally laced within the rapid-fire invectives.

Hmm.
Maybe he should try the Sexton brand of wooing.

Chloe heard the wardrobe door open.

She stopped ranting long enough to notice a thin stream of light on the ceiling. Since she was burrowed back into the far corner of the enormous piece of furniture, she couldn't see anything beyond the clothes in front of her.

The light narrowed and disappeared; she heard the distinct sound of the door closing again, returning her to the pitch black solitude she wanted.

Must have been one of the maids, she reasoned, shrugging.

Remembering Lord John's obstinacy in all ways, Chloe picked up where she left off, calling him an impossible high-handed rogue—among other things—in French.

The wardrobe shook slightly. A rustle of muslin petticoats followed.

Something was headed her way. Chloe swallowed nervously. Someone was inside there with her!

A firm hand clasped her ankle. A sound came out of Chloe that resembled a high-pitched squeak. The mysterious hand tugged at her, pulling her toward it. She began to slide down from her sitting position against the back wall of the armoire.

All too soon she was lying flat on her back on the bottom of the wardrobe.

In the darkness the masculine hand came over her lightly to graze the silk robe that covered her breasts. The peaks immediately stood up in automatic response, despite her trepidation.

Then she felt the knot on the sash of her robe being undone. It fell open, exposing the length of her to the cool air.

The warm hand glided across her skin, the pads of its fingers a silken stroke. It caressed the sides of her breast, skimming the tender underside.

A single finger stroked down the center line of her chest to her belly, stopping to dip capriciously into her navel. There it circled the perimeter, the edge of the nail gently abrading in a most stimulating manner.

The satin fingertips dipped lower.

They tangled in the curls at her mound, raking in short, light passes. The erotic movements were highly sensitizing.

Chloe moaned softly.

Fingers moved deeper between her legs. They stroked down inside to trail the soft inner flesh of her thigh to her knee and back up to the hidden apex.

A second hand joined the first to skim around her hip, then to lie flat and hot against her derriere.

Chloe could hear her own breathing in the confines of the wardrobe.
Shallow, rapid puffs.

A hot mouth captured her nipple
. She cried out, an exclamation of pure pleasure.

The mouth drew on her. Damp, insistent, practiced.

Chloe sank her hands in silky hair, running her fingers through long strands as she freed them from the thin ribbon tied at the nape of his strong neck.

He came over her then.

Satin lips moved up her chest, laving as they went, to fasten on the curve of her throat and suckle. Chloe undulated beneath him as his full weight pinned her down.

The hand wedged between them manipulated the buttons on his breeches. The hand cradling her bottom drew her flush against him.

Taut up against his manhood.

He was burning hot velvet.
Long and thick and hard.

Chloe's breath caught.

The pulsating member skimmed along her moistened cleft, a short back-and-forth prelude before he suddenly slid full inside her.

In a rush of passion, she called out his name.

"How did you know it was me?" he drawled as he licked the swirl of her ear.

Chloe nipped his shoulder. "More to the point, Lord of Sex, how did you know it was
me
?" she teased him.