Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed (2 page)

Chapter 2

M
allory was in the process of deciding whether to read a book or take a nap when a knock came at her bedroom door. Charlemagne, who had long since abandoned her lap in favor of a sunny spot in another chair, cracked open his eyes and stared toward the door, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

“I don’t blame you a bit,” Mallory murmured to the cat in a low voice. The other feline, Elizabeth, stood up, stretched, then began grooming her fur, while Henry’s damp black nose twitched with patient curiosity.

Inwardly, Mallory suppressed a sigh. Very likely the caller was Claire or Mama, come to give her arm another twist over the issue of dinner. But she’d already said everything she had to say on the subject and saw no point in being compelled to repeat the exercise.

“Whoever it is, tell them to come back later,” she ordered her maid. “I wish to rest and not be disturbed.”

Penny, who’d been busy putting away handkerchiefs and tidying up various other sundries on Mallory’s dressing table, stared for a pronounced moment before dipping an obedient curtsey and walking to the door.

Without glancing around, Mallory listened to the discreet murmur of voices whose words she couldn’t quite make out. She recognized Penny’s high feminine tone, but the person who answered was clearly not another woman. The caller’s voice was low and throaty and laced with a seductive warmth that hinted at all manner of forbidden delights. In fact, she’d heard tell of more than one girl who’d swooned in his presence since even his most innocent statements seemed imbued with a frisson of sin as the words rolled from his tongue.

“Come now,” she heard Adam Gresham coax in a silvery tone that was loud enough to carry this time. “I am certain your mistress wasn’t talking about me when she said she didn’t wish to be disturbed. Why don’t you go ask her again? I’m sure she’ll change her mind, do you not think?”

From the corner of her eye, Mallory saw Penny sag, then straighten again, the servant giving a firm shake of her head as she made a valiant effort to resist his entreaty.

“Or mayhap I’ll just see for myself,” he said, pushing the door wider despite the maid’s presence. “Mallory, you’re not really sleeping, are you?” he called in a half whisper, as he peered around the frame.

“If I had been,” she replied on a mildly acerbic note, “I would not be any longer. You’re as inconsiderate as the twins.”

“Oh, surely I’m not as bad as that pair of scoundrels,” Adam remarked. “Though come to think, perhaps I am.” Stepping around her maid, he walked into the room. “Anyway, I knew I wasn’t disturbing you since I could see the tips of your shoes and realized you weren’t abed.”

“I might have been dozing in this chair,” she countered.

“You might, except for the fact that in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen or heard of you slumbering in a chair. You’ve remarked on more than one occasion that you hate to sleep sitting up.”

Halting in the center of the room, he made her an elegant bow before straightening to his full height of nearly six and a half feet. His mouth turned up as he flashed her a roguish smile, his teeth showing white against his swarthy complexion. He swept her with a fulsome look, his warm, chocolate brown eyes gleaming in obvious pleasure.

She noticed that he’d let his hair grow a little since last they’d met, the thick, dark sable strands now threatening to brush the top edge of his neatly tied cravat. But his casually styled locks only enhanced the undeniable beauty of his face, with its sculpted forehead, proud nose and an uncompromising jawline that no one would ever mistake as anything but pure stubborn male.

“Hello, Mal,” he said.

She returned his gaze, but not his smile, despite the undeniable swell of warmth that rose in her breast at seeing him. “Hello, Adam. You oughtn’t be in here, you know. It isn’t proper.”

“You’re entirely right. It’s not,” he agreed, crossing to drop with negligent ease into the chair opposite her. His long, athletic frame was clothed in a dark green coat and trousers with a cream waistcoat and gold watch fobs. Leaning back, he lounged with the insouciant grace of some fabled prince––strong, confident, and possessed of a dark sensuality that elicited interest wherever he traveled, and from whomever he met.

“Then again,” he continued, “I’ve never been any great hand at obeying the rules. Besides, what’s going to happen with your brothers no more than a quick shout away? And considering the open door and your maid’s presence in the room,” he added on a devilish turn, “chances are rather slim that I’ll sweep you off your feet and ravish you in your bed. Do you not agree, Penny?”

The servant’s eyes grew round as marbles before a giggle escaped her lips. “I should certainly hope not, my lord.”

He laughed and sent her a wink that turned the girl’s cheeks a bright crimson.

“Quit tormenting my maid, Lord Gresham,” Mallory said in a reproving tone that had no real heat behind the words. “Penny, you may go along now and leave us. I shall be completely safe with his lordship.”

Her maid glanced between them before nodding. “Yes, miss.”

“But leave the door open,” Mallory called at her retreating back. “Wide open.”

Adam grinned.

Henry, who’d been watching the tableau from his spot near the hearth, chose that moment to rise and amble toward Adam, the dog’s tail wagging a cheerful greeting that bespoke of long acquaintance and old, dear friends. Reaching out, Adam stroked the dog’s sleek head, earning Henry’s complete adoration.

Mallory watched, realizing that she was another of Adam’s old and dear friends. She’d known him more than half her life and in all the ways that counted, he was like one of her brothers. Well, not entirely like her brothers, she amended, since he was a man that even the most frigid of females would deem desirable.

In fact, years ago as a green girl of sixteen, she’d nursed a powerful, though short-lived infatuation for him. But when he’d been kindly dismissive of her naïve overtures, she’d quickly realized that her feelings were not returned and had worked to put out the nascent flame. Since then, she’d been satisfied, even happy, to be his friend, any notions of deeper intimacy between her and Adam Gresham gone forever.

And now he was here to act as her friend once more.

“Mama sent you along, I suppose,” she said. “Or was it Claire?”

He studied her for a moment. “Neither, at least not directly, although I have been charged with the goal of lifting your spirits.”

She grimaced. “Yes, that seems to be everyone’s duty these days. See to Mallory’s flagging spirits.”

“Which is why I shall make no such attempt,” he stated, steepling his fingers together on top of his lean stomach. “You have every right to feel miserable under the circumstances, and I shall do nothing to curb your despondency.”

“Oh,” she said, air flowing in a small puff from her lungs.

“What is the point in trying to jolly you when you clearly do not wish to be jollied?”

“That’s very…good of you, Adam,” she said, wondering why she felt even lower of a sudden.

“You are a grown woman, after all, and if you don’t want to eat dinner, that should be up to you.”

She frowned. “Who says I don’t want dinner?”

“Oh, I just assumed as much when the duchess told me you would not be joining us this evening.”

“No, I shall not, but that doesn’t mean I plan to forgo dinner. I will sup here in my room.”

“Of course, I understand.” He paused in quiet contemplation. “Although I should think you could be every bit as unhappy among company as you would be alone here in your room. No one will expect you to do anything but sit quietly and take a bite from your plate every now and again. If you like, we can all of us ignore you completely.”

“Adam!”

His dark eyes met her own. “
Mallory.
”

“Don’t be cruel.”

“It is not my intention to be. But I believe you ought to consider the fact that you are hurting your family by hiding yourself away. Surely dinner is of little enough consequence that you could put in an appearance this evening.”

When he said it that way, she realized how churlish her behavior sounded. “But Adam, all those people…” she whispered.

He reached over and covered her hand with his. “All those people are family and friends, each of whom loves you.”

She lowered her head. “Yes, I suppose you are right.”

“There is no ‘suppose’ about it. But if it would make you feel easier, what do you say to sitting between me and one of your brothers? Drake, perhaps? He’s quiet, always busy figuring out something in his head. That way, if you don’t wish to talk, you don’t have to.”

She looked up again. “I guess that might be acceptable.”

Adam smiled.

“But I’m not joining everyone afterward for cards and games. And I don’t want to play the pianoforte. I cannot bear the idea of being put on display and forced to perform. I simply haven’t the heart for it since…well since.”

Adam squeezed her hand in silent understanding. “Once dinner is finished, I’m sure no one would mind if you retired early. Although I hope you won’t rush off the instant the last dessert fork is laid down.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why is it I feel as though I’ve just been thoroughly managed.”

His wide shoulders rose on a shrug of supposed innocence.

“And you say you’re not in league with Claire and Mama. Has anyone ever told you that you’re diabolical, my lord?”

His smile turned into a slow grin. “Just one of my many and varied talents, sweetheart.” His thumb stroked over the top of her hand for a long moment, her flesh tingling where he touched. Before she had time to think more on it, he let go and leaned back in his chair. “Now,” he asked, “what are you planning to wear?”

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I hardly see that it matters. My grey silk will do, I expect.”

Adam’s dark brows joined hers in a scowl. “Grey? Lord no, you can’t wear grey.”

“Why not?”

“For one, because it’s long past time you were out of mourning attire. For another, because I absolutely detest grey, at least on women.”

“Black then, though I do not believe I solicited your opinion on the selection of my wardrobe,” she pronounced with a challenging tilt to her chin.

“You may not have sought my opinion, but you’re going to get the benefit of it nonetheless.”

Her lips parted. “You are completely outrageous, do you know that?”

“And you are pigheaded enough to appear tonight in widow’s weeds despite the fact that you are not a widow.”

She froze, stricken, as a tight band of pain squeezed her chest. Adam was right, of course, she wasn’t a widow and had never been a wife. Still, she felt Michael’s loss as keenly as if she’d been both. Her lower lip trembled, a tear sliding without warning down her cheek.

Leaning forward, Adam wiped the moisture away with the edge of his thumb. “
Shh,
” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. Don’t cry.”

“I’m not usually weepy,” she defended. “Not any longer. I thought I’d already cried all my tears.”

“Apparently there are still one or two left.”

She said nothing further, her damp gaze meeting his as he caught her chin gently in his hand. She waited, expecting him to tell her what everyone else said.

That all would be well.

That time would heal her wounds and make her whole again.

That she was young and had so much living left to do.

And most importantly, that she had mourned Michael Hargreaves long and well, but that it was time to let him go.

Her family meant to be kind, she knew. She had their steadfast love and support, and she adored all of them for it. And yet, despite their best intentions, they didn’t understand, and she couldn’t seem to find either the words or the strength to explain.

And now Adam was here.

Now Adam would say it all again.

She glanced away.

“He wouldn’t like you wearing grey and black any more than I do, you know,” Adam said in his deep, resonant voice. “He wouldn’t want you clinging to customs that serve no useful purpose. Wearing pretty colors doesn’t mean you loved him any less.”

She trembled and shed another tear, which he brushed away as well.

“Besides,” he told her, withdrawing his hand, “we can’t have you going to dinner looking like a crow.”

Her lips parted on a mixture of outrage and amusement. “A crow!”

Leaning back again in his chair, he crossed his arms. “Most definitely, particularly if you decide to wear black feathers in your hair.”

She gasped. “I ought to box your ears for such impertinence.”

“Go ahead if you’d like. The right or left?” He turned his head to both sides. “Which one do you prefer?”

She huffed out a breath. “Fine. I’ll wear a shade other than black or grey.”

Adam praised her with a smile.

“You’ll make Penny ecstatic, you know,” Mallory informed him. “She’s been pestering me for the past month to put off my mourning. Every day when she asks what I’d like to wear, she suggests some bright color.”

“Good for Penny. Why don’t we ring for her now, so you can choose.” Without waiting, he rose and crossed to the bellpull.

She tossed him a look. “Surely you don’t plan to remain here while I select a gown?”

“I don’t see why not. That way you won’t be tempted to recant your decision. Or pick lavender.”

“What is wrong with lavender? It happens to be one of my favorite colors.”

“It also happens to be a traditional color for half mourning. Starting tonight, you’re officially out of mourning, at least when it comes to your clothing. I think you should begin with something bold. Green, perhaps. You’re always especially striking in that hue.”

A sound soon came at the open doorway, drawing his attention. “Ah, and here is your maid now. Penny, Lady Mallory has decided to attend dinner tonight after all. I am going to help her choose a gown.”

The maid’s eyes grew round at his bold and decidedly improper statement. But she made no objection, clearly pleased that Adam had been able to convince her mistress to change her mind about attending the party.