September Awakening (The Silver Foxes of Westminster Book 4)

by Merry Farmer

  “Are you certain something isn’t wrong?” he asked as they approached the stable. “You seem awfully quiet. And you’re a bit flushed.”

  “I can’t think of anything to say,” she admitted, ignoring his observation of her color. He didn’t need to know that what she really couldn’t think of was a proper way to ask him what he was keeping from her.

  Armand smiled, resting his free hand over hers. “It’s a wise person who keeps quiet when they have nothing to say.”

  His comment put her at ease. “I’d hardly consider myself wise.”

  They crossed through the stable door and into a row of dim, straw-lined stalls, each occupied by a fine specimen of equestrian grace.

  “You wouldn’t?” he asked, then shrugged. “In the past week, I’ve come to the conclusion that you are very wise indeed.”

  Lavinia blushed at the compliment. “I’m not sure how I gave that impression.”

  “Good morning, my lord,” the groom greeted them before Armand could answer her.

  “Morning, Dashiell,” Armand greeted the young man. “Do you have the horses ready?”

  “Yes, my lord. Mozart for you and Kitty for her ladyship,” Dashiell answered.

  Any further inquiries into the mysteries of Armand were forgotten as he led Lavinia out into the yard, Dashiell bringing the horses behind them. Kitty had been outfitted with a side-saddle, and, with a minimal amount of confusion and fuss, Armand helped Lavinia to climb a mounting block and settle herself comfortably. Whereas Lavinia had been afraid she would feel nervous on top of a large, powerful animal, she was surprised to find she had no fear at all.

  “She’s a sweet horse,” she said, leaning forward to stroke Kitty’s neck as Armand mounted Mozart.

  “Kitty has the steadiest temperament of any of Lord Helm’s stable, my lady,” Dashiell explained. “She’s the best mare to learn on.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dashiell.” Lavinia smiled at the groom.

  “We’ll go slowly,” Armand said, walking his horse over to hers and petting the mare’s neck. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it as we go.”

  Dashiell took a quick moment to explain the basic commands needed for a woman riding side-saddle. None of it seemed too complicated to master, though Lavinia had the feeling that Kitty knew far, far more than she did and moved on instinct more than because of any command she gave.

  “She likes you, I can tell,” Armand said as they rode out of the yard and onto a wide path that curved through a meadow down the hill from the main house. He cut a fine figure atop his horse. So much so that Lavinia went straight back to feeling a stir deep inside of her. The strength of his legs was particularly apparent as he rode. She remembered what the power of his thighs had felt like between hers.

  “How does one tell if a horse likes them?” Lavinia asked, a slight catch in her voice, desperate to tame her thoughts. A ridiculous part of her wanted to ask how to tell if a man liked her, if he liked her.

  “Her gait is smooth and easy,” Armand answered. “She isn’t pulling or shaking her head or showing any signs of distress.”

  A wry grin flittered across Lavinia’s lips before she could stop herself. “Perhaps it’s because I know how she feels a little too well.”

  “Do you?” he asked with an enticing half-smile.

  Lavinia sighed. “It’s surprising how much the strictures one’s mother places on one can feel like being bridled and saddled and led about by the bit.”

  Armand hummed, his face pinching into a frown. “If there’s one thing I’m finding I don’t regret in this whole strange business that brought us together, it’s that our marriage has managed to get you away from your mother.”

  Lavinia smiled, but her gut twisted at his words. She knew he had regrets, but she wished he’d stop saying as much. “It’s a strange thing,” she said instead. “Finding yourself in a life you never set out to live.”

  His sudden, ironic laugh, had both his horse and hers flinching. She tightened her hands on her reins and tensed to stay solidly in her seat.

  “I know far too much about being thrust into a life I never set out to live,” he said.

  Her initial burst of guilt turned to sympathy as she realized he wasn’t referring to their marriage, but to his title. Her heart seemed to swell with affection, a sensation she rather liked. “But surely inheriting a peerage is a useful thing,” she said.

  He glanced at her, his frown lightening. “Useful? I wouldn’t have used that word to describe it.”

  Lavinia shrugged. “I can see that you regret being forced to give up medicine, though I still don’t understand why a viscount couldn’t also be a practicing physician.”

  “Gentlemen aren’t expected to work,” he answered. “And besides, as my friends continuously remind me, now that I have a seat in the House of Lords, my time must be better spent debating sanitation laws and international trade relations.”

  “But surely, serving your country could be seen as healing the nation, couldn’t it?”

  His brow rose as he glanced her way. “I’m surprised you care so much about the nation.”

  “Because I’m a woman?” she asked, challenging him by meeting his eyes with determination.

  He grinned, and a burst of heat rushed through her. It ignited sparks of longing in noticeable places. The sensations were both exciting and unnerving, reminding her of how she’d felt the night before.

  “I stand corrected,” he said, his smile growing. “It shouldn’t surprise me that you care about politics at all, considering the company you keep. I’m pleased to see that my friends and their wives have had a positive effect on you. For me, on the other hand, their interference has cost me a career I loved and thrust me into a position where I feel utterly out of my depth.”

  “Out of your depth?”

  He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “Most men know when they’re destined to become a peer. They grow up with their education tailored toward learning the law of the land, how our government works. Peter deVere, for example, studied law intensively at Oxford before joining the army because he knew he would someday serve in Her Majesty’s government. I had no warning what would be required of me.”

  “So you studied medicine,” Lavinia said.

  “After the war, yes.” Armand nodded. “Now all that studying, all that training, has gone for naught, and I’m left in a job I’m ill-suited and ill-prepared for.”

  He was bitter. Kitty could have figured that much out. “The nation is at a critical point right now,” she argued. “Especially now that the Liberal Party has regained control of Parliament. The rights of women and the working class stand on the brink of being expanded. Ireland could win Home Rule, as they’ve wanted for so long. Even the fates of the people of the colonies hang in the balance.”

  A flush of color painted his cheeks at her mention of the colonies. He stared forward, avoiding her gaze.

  “Are the colonies important to you?” she asked, suddenly eager to learn more about what he cared about.

  “I have some contacts in India,” he began slowly. “A Dr. Maqsood, who works at a hospital in Lahore. I was thinking….”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Lavinia stared at him, once again overcome with the feeling that he was hiding something from her.

  He took a deep breath and glanced at her with a tense smile. “I was thinking that we could ride closer to the tenant farms on the other side of the estate,” he said. “Broadclyft Hall has a quaint village on its grounds, complete with a well-maintained cricket pitch.”

  “Do you play cricket?” she asked, feeling as though he’d changed the subject deliberately. She wouldn’t call him on it. If he had a reason for not wanting to talk about India, then she wouldn’t press him.

  “I did,” he said. “I still do once in a while, when the village is short a man. Mr. Bondar is widely regarded as the finest umpire in Devon.”

  “Is he really?” Lavinia smiled, settling comfortably into her saddl
e once more. She liked it when she and Armand could talk about unimportant things as though they were friends. She wanted more of those moments, more closeness with him. Perhaps then he wouldn’t regret the way they’d been thrown together.

  “Devon is cricket-mad,” he nodded, guiding them down a secondary path that cut through the meadow. “We have quite a few competitive teams that—”

  The conversation ended abruptly as Kitty stepped on a loose bit of ground that turned out to be a hive of wasps. In an instant, several zipped to protect their home, stinging Kitty’s leg. Before Lavinia knew what had happened, Kitty cried out and leapt forward. It was all Lavinia could do to cling to her saddle as the poor horse tore into a frightened run. The speed with which Kitty bolted was enough to blow Lavinia’s hat off.

  “Lavinia!” She barely heard Armand’s frantic cry behind her as Kitty galloped across the meadow. Her full focus was on the single task of holding on. Her muscles tensed and her hands locked around the reins and the saddle. There wasn’t even room for fear, only tight, all-consuming focus.

  The meadow tore past in a blur of green and brown. Ahead, Lavinia could make out the edge of a stretching woodland and a small, thatched cottage nestled between the trees and the field. Perhaps the sight of something so human and domestic would calm Kitty, and perhaps someone lived there who could help. Without knowing what she was doing, she willed the horse to turn toward the cottage and to calm down.

  Surprisingly, it seemed as though her attempt at mind-control worked. That or Kitty recovered from the initial shock and pain of being stung and slowed on her own. She came out of her run, trotted for a few more paces, walked the last few steps, then stopped entirely. The only indication Lavinia had that she was still upset was the way she shook her head and stomped her stung leg.

  Lavinia was in no hurry to go for another gallop, so as fast as she could, she unhooked her leg from the saddle, let go of the reins and attempted to dismount. The ground was farther away than she anticipated, though, and instead of alighting gracefully, she tumbled to the dirt, plopping into a messy ball of skirts and arms and legs. Her left ankle tweaked uncomfortably as she did.

  “Lavinia!”

  Armand’s cry was closer than she expected it to be. He charged into the clearing beside the cottage where she’d fallen and dismounted so swiftly that she wasn’t sure Mozart even stopped. The sudden arrival startled Kitty all over again, and she ran toward the woods, only stopping when Mozart trotted after her.

  “Lavinia, are you hurt?” Armand flung himself to the ground beside her, scrambling to pull her into his arms and right her.

  “Surprisingly, I’m not,” she panted, shaking now that the ordeal was passed. Her breath came in sudden gasps, and she could feel sweat trickling down her back. But it was his proximity that kept her heart racing. All of her earlier thoughts swooped back in on her.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, testing her arms and wrists, then lifting her skirt to handle her ankles and calves.

  He was a doctor. She reminded herself of that as his probing hands tested her knees. But he was also her husband. Whether it was the fright of the wild ride or whether she was mad as a march hare for other reasons, she found herself wishing he’d touch her as intimately as the night before. His hands on her legs didn’t feel medicinal at all.

  “Nothing seems to be broken,” he said. “You gave me such a fright. I shouldn’t have taken you on a ride in such open territory until we’d practiced in the safety of the paddock for a while. Can you forgive me?” He glanced up to her, his eyes filled with genuine regret.

  “I can,” she panted. The breathless feeling of excitement wasn’t going away. It loomed larger as he inched closer, placing his hands on her sides.

  “Does anything hurt?” he asked as he squeezed her. “Anything at all?”

  Her ankle was tender, but she was loath to switch his focus away from the shrinking space between them, so she shook her head.

  “Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “Anything to make you feel better?”

  “Well,” she said, still panting, “you could kiss me.”

  He froze, meeting her eyes with a look of surprise. It quickly heated to levels that had her trembling for entirely different reasons. He closed his arms around her, pulling her close, and captured her mouth with his own.

  Chapter 11

  His lips molded against hers with far more insistence than when he’d kissed her on their wedding night. His tongue raked against her bottom lip, and when she gasped at the sensation, he slipped it past her lips to tease hers. The sensation was captivating and left her aching to reciprocate the pleasure he was giving her. It left her aching in other ways too.

  She reached for him, circling her arms around the broad expanse of his back as she did her best to return his kiss. A tiny voice at the back of her head worried that she was doing it all wrong and that he would think she was a ninny, but before she could do anything about those thoughts, he’d lowered her to her back in the soft, cool grass.

  A whole new wave of desire washed over her as he stretched by her side, half atop her, and continued to kiss her, nibbling at her lip and trailing a quick burst of kisses to her neck before returning to her mouth. His hand stroked her side, rising to cradle her breast. His thumb brushed across her nipple, sending a jolt of need through her and making her curse corsets, restrictive bodices, and clothing in general. It seemed wildly strange that she should feel more of the heady sort of passion Elaine wrote about and Lady Stanhope had hinted at with both her and Armand fully clothed and lying in the grass than she had in bed.

  Armand brushed a few heated kisses toward her neck, his hand gently squeezing her breast and his knee delving between her legs, but then he stopped suddenly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, panting, and planted his hands on either side of her shoulders so he could hold himself above her. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Don’t stop,” she begged him, clutching the lapels of his coat. “Please, please don’t stop.”

  He blinked, his eyes going wide. “You don’t want me to stop?”

  He was maddening and endearing at the same time. As charming as the respect in his question was, much to Lavinia’s surprise, she didn’t want to be respected right then. Quite the contrary.

  “You’re my husband,” she told him, deliciously breathless. “It doesn’t matter for how long. You have every right to ravish me in the meadow if you wish.” She was fully aware that her tone, and likely her expression, were begging him to do just that.

  A wicked grin spread across his lips, making her heart beat faster and the maelstrom of need within her grow frenzied. “Don’t tell me that the whole time, through these last few, difficult days, you’ve harbored fantasies of me having my way with you.”

  She shivered at the purr in his voice. “You’re a handsome man,” she said. “My friends are all mad for their husbands and the things they do. And after the little we’ve shared….” She paused, unable to resist smiling over his sudden, curious, embarrassed look. “That can’t be it,” she said. “I know there’s more.”

  “There’s so much more,” he said, lowering himself enough to pull a long, tender kiss from her lips. “But I was worried you wouldn’t want it, that you’d be frightened or put off. I didn’t want to start this whole thing by terrifying you.”

  “I promise not to be terrified,” she said, moving her hands down to unbutton his coat. “As long as you promise not to leave me in the dark about anything.”

  A brief, uncertainty flashed through his expression, and for a moment, the feeling that he was keeping something from her returned. But it was fleeting. As soon as he lowered himself so that their bodies came into full contact from chest to hips, and as soon as his mouth covered hers once more, kissing her with a need that left her shivering, all other thoughts were forgotten.

  For a second time, he stopped at exactly the moment she didn’t want him to, when her body was tingling with excitement. But w
hen he rocked back, balancing on his knees and pulling her to sit with him, it was to say, “If I were twenty years younger, I’d take you right here in the grass. But the gamekeeper’s cabin is right there, and I happen to know for a fact there’s a bed inside.”

  “Will the gamekeeper mind?” Lavinia asked as he helped her to her feet.

  “I suppose he would if I had one,” Armand said, taking her hand and leading her to the cottage door. “I don’t know what happened to the last one, and I haven’t bothered to hire a new one.”

  “You really should,” Lavinia said as he fetched a key from the top of the doorframe, then unlocked the door. “He would prevent your game from being poached and provide you with food for—”

  Her advice was cut off as he pushed open the door, looped an arm around her waist, and swung her inside. The cottage was a bit musty and had a feeling of disuse, but that was all the assessment Lavinia had time for before Armand closed her in an ardent embrace and slanted his mouth over hers.

  It was like being carried away by a whirlwind of instinct. Lavinia had never found herself in a situation of such sensual potency, and while her lack of experience should have made her confused and clumsy, the need to be as close to Armand as possible overrode everything else. She fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat as he picked at the impossibly numerous buttons of her bodice. All the while, they stepped blindly through the front room of the cottage toward what she assumed was the bedroom, stopping for kisses every few feet. In the process, she nearly stumbled over a chair. She yelped in surprise, and Armand caught her, clutching her tight.

  “We could do this the wild, romantic, and potentially accident-prone way and continue to undress each other blindly while kissing,” he panted, humor lighting his eyes. “Or we could choose the far less exotic path of walking calmly into the bedroom, undressing without each other’s help, and meeting in the bed already fully naked.”