by Emma Wildes
good experience with the opposite sex.”
“You must not have been listening to me.”
Brianna waved a hand in an airy gesture of dismissal. “There is nothing wrong with my hearing.
Your father wouldn’t approve and the man in question isn’t interested in marriage, right? Neither
are insurmountable obstacles.”
Rebecca leaned a shoulder on the window frame and stared at her friend. “That is like saying the
Alps are mere lumps of rock.” She wasn’t sure which hurdle would be more formidable.
“Oh please. You’re beautiful, Beck, and wonderful in every other way, too. Any man would be
interested. As for your father, he loves you, and I’d wager if your happiness is at stake and this
young man is from a decent family, even as opposed you think he would be, your father would
come around.”
To say she had doubts over that was such an understatement Rebecca didn’t bother to voice them.
“The man we’re discussing has clearly no interest in courting anyone, Bri.”
“Maybe you could change his mind. If this mystery man asked you to marry him, what would
you say?”
The question brought forth every fantasy she’d ever had of Robert Northfield on bended knee,
clasping her hand and declaring his undying love. But she’d always known those romantic
images were nothing more than unrealistic illusions. Rebecca shook her head. “He wouldn’t ask.”
“But if he did?”
“Bri,” she said in exasperation.
“I’ll loan you the book at any time, if you want it. I am almost done with it.”
“I couldn’t.” Rebecca said it on a gasp. It was one thing for Brianna to read it—at least she was a
married woman.
But the scandalous book did sound intriguing, Rebecca had to admit. Not that she believed it
could work a miracle like causing a change of heart in a rake of Robert’s stature, but she couldn’t
deny her curiosity over the forbidden revelations Lady Rothburg had to offer.
“It’s very enlightening.” Brianna looked mischievous but sincere. “Why does intimacy have to be
such a secret, anyway? Men know everything and we know nothing. It isn’t fair to keep young
women so in the dark over a natural part of life.”
Well, that was true enough. Rebecca muttered, “Who said life was fair?”
“The book aside, I hope you’ll attend.”
Attend. The party. The house party where Robert would no doubt be in attendance, also.
Rebecca felt the traitorous flutter of her pulse, though it was irrational to want to torture herself
by going. “My parents would have to agree. I am not sure they will. You are a married lady and a
duchess, but you are still younger than I am by a few months. So is Arabella. They might not
consider you reasonable chaperones.”
“Colton’s grandmother will be there. Can you think of anyone more respectable than the
Dowager Duchess of Rolthven? Surely she is suitable enough, and besides, I want you to play
some of your pieces.”
A chance to play her music for an audience? Rebecca’s throat tightened. “You know I can’t. My
mother would have the vapors if word got out.”
Brianna lifted her brows. “I didn’t say you had to claim the music as your own. You are a
talented pianist. Just play for us. When the audience adores it—as I know they will—and asks the
name of the composer, make something up. It will be a chance for you to display your genius
without the censure. And you can hear the praise firsthand, as it should be. We’ll need some
elegant entertainment.”
Now she was lost. Robert, and her other passion, her music? There was no way she could resist.
“I’d love to come.” And while she was being foolish enough to put herself right in the path of
possible heartbreak, she might as well extend the madness. “And I’ll consider your offer of the
book.”
Chapter Five
Men and women are not natural companions other than in a physical sense. We do not care for
the same entertainments as a rule, nor do we find the same things humorous or interesting, and
our everyday lives hold a disparity that makes it sometimes difficult to understand each other.
Few men contemplate their wardrobes except with the most casual of attention, and few women
wish to discuss horses and hounds. Yet these very differences can be to your advantage. Praise
and reward every concession he gives you with his time and purse and watch his generosity
grow.
From the chapter titled: “Turning Reluctance to Eagerness”
The envelope in question was included in a pile of correspondence and had no seal or indication
of the sender. Colton’s secretary, a thin young man with unprepossessing features and a quiet
demeanor, looked puzzled as he handed it over. Mills cleared his throat. “I . . . er . . . believe it is
from Her Grace.”
Colton took the proffered piece of vellum. “From my wife?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why the devil would she write me a note?” His question was ridiculous. How would his
secretary know what Brianna was thinking? Colton certainly didn’t understand her most of the
time.
“It appears to be an invitation, Your Grace,” Mills said helpfully.
“I see that.” Colton scanned the script for a second time. “Rather an interesting thing, to be
invited to one’s own home. It is even more interesting that the Duchess has failed to mention to
me her plans. Why on earth is she planning a house party?”
“A surprise, sir?” Mills straightened a stack of papers with his usual efficiency, looking more
diffident than ever.
Colton glanced at him and said dryly, “I agree. It’s a surprise, but that doesn’t help me
understand the failure to say one word to me about it.”
“Your birthday, Your Grace.”
“My birthday?”
“On the fifth. You’ll be twenty-nine.”
“I do know my own age,” he said gruffly, feeling a little foolish. Now that he thought about it, he
supposed it was next week. It certainly hadn’t crossed his mind his lovely young wife would do
something like plan a party to celebrate it. He couldn’t decide whether to be touched or slightly
irritated. Both, he supposed. While he appreciated the thoughtful gesture, he was also far too busy
to drop everything and go lounge in the countryside with a houseful of guests for five days.
Brianna had an infernal knack for complicating things that should be simple.
He sighed and set down the invitation, finding the vague scent of Brianna’s perfume that clung to
the paper beguiling. “Since she has doubtless sent out other invitations to this event, I suppose I
have little choice but to attend. Please check my calendar and rearrange any appointments if
possible. I think I am supposed to see Lord Liverpool during this time, and one does not put off
the Prime Minister unless he’s agreeable to it. If he is, you will accompany me to the country and
we can get in some work while at Rolthven. Right now I had better go find my wife and try to
discover if she is plotting anything else I am unaware of.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Mills moved with his usual unobtrusive efficiency as Colton rose and left his
study. In the main hall he found the butler, who informed him that yes, indeed, the Duchess was
home, having just returned.
As he wen
t up the graceful sweep of the main stairway to the second floor where their apartments
were located, Colton contemplated how to handle the situation. Firm remonstration, at a guess.
Though he didn’t want to appear ungrateful for a celebration in his honor, she must understand
that she couldn’t reorder his schedule. He paused to knock on the door of her bedroom, reminded
himself she was his wife, this was his house, and opened it instead.
Her maid glanced up, startled at his abrupt and unprecedented entrance into her mistress’s
bedchamber in the middle of the afternoon. She was in the act of shaking out one of those
ridiculously sheer undergarments Brianna had begun to favor, the filmy lace suspended in her
hands as she dropped into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace.”
A slight splash behind the screen on the dais at the end of the room told him Brianna’s location.
She was humming as she bathed, a surprisingly melodic tune. He didn’t know his beautiful bride
could sing.
If she was in her bath, she was naked.
That irrefutable fact held him checked for a moment, for while he’d come to talk to her, he hadn’t
expected to find her nude. It was probably best for him to turn around and leave, the voice of
reason in his head suggested. They could discuss the party over dinner. He could even request her
presence beforehand for a glass of sherry and introduce the subject at that time.
There was another faint splash.
The sound was unexpectedly erotic. Odd—before now, he hadn’t considered bathing a seductive
pastime.
Colton glanced at Brianna’s maid. “Please excuse us. She’ll ring later if she needs you.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The young woman draped the chemise quickly over the dressing table stool
and hurried off, discreetly shutting the bedroom door behind her.
“Colton?” Brianna said from behind the screen, obviously registering the sound of his voice.
It was four o’clock in the afternoon, he reminded himself. Besides, he was annoyed with his
wife’s confounding behavior.
His unruly cock didn’t care. Colton hadn’t even seen Brianna yet and he could already feel his
erection grow, the fragrance of lavender soap reminding him of the softness of her scent. The
tantalizing vision his mind created of bare shoulders propped against the edge of the tub evoked a
physical response so strong he couldn’t quite believe it.
Four o’clock in the afternoon was a fine time to make love to your wife.
He walked over and went around the screen.
A pair of gorgeous dark blue eyes stared up at him as he climbed the two steps and stood at the
edge of the tub. Brianna had her pale golden hair caught up in a careless topknot, wayward
strands escaping to brush her slender neck. The upper curves of her breasts were completely
exposed, the sumptuous flesh wet and glistening, and her smooth cheeks held a pretty flush from
the heated water that deepened as he examined what he could see of her with leisurely inspection.
“I received your invitation.”
There was a double entendre if ever there was one, he thought, his lascivious gaze fastened on the
silken mounded flesh visible above the water.
“Did you?” There was a tentative note in her response, the tone of her voice hushed.
God help him, even her knees, just visible above the soapy water, were entrancing.
When a man found himself riveted by a joint, he was in trouble indeed.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely.
“Are you angry?”
He had come upstairs with the intention of telling her she couldn’t presume to arrange social
events without consulting him, but now, looking down into her lovely face, he found he wasn’t
nearly as exasperated as before. What he was feeling had nothing to do with irritation and
everything to do with incipient lust. “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t say angry was the right word. Is
there some reason you chose to not discuss this with me first?”
“Then it would hardly be a surprise, would it?”
“I suppose not,” he agreed, uncertain of how to handle the situation.
Her glimmering smile made blood he didn’t know he had left surge to his groin. “I’m so glad you
are not upset with me. I wasn’t sure you would like the idea.”
He didn’t particularly, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything except the alluring sight
of his breathtaking wife in her bath. Bathing anyone but himself was out of the realm of his
experience, but he was willing to give it a try. He shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his
cravat, seeing Brianna’s eyes widen. With deliberation, he removed the studs at his cuffs and then
rolled up his sleeves. The soap sat in a small porcelain dish perched on the edge of the tub, and as
he picked it up, he found that even the slick, wet feel of it aroused him. “Allow me to help you
finish, madam.”
Brianna gave a small gasp as his sudsy hands slid over her exquisite breasts. They felt perfect in
the warm water, full, firm, the resilient flesh like satin as he fondled and caressed. Colton took his
time, weighing each one in turn, lifting the flesh as if gauging the ripeness. When her nipples
hardened against his palms, he smiled, unable to help himself.
“I am . . .” Brianna said breathlessly, her eyes half closed, “. . . perfectly able to bathe myself.”
“You are perfect, that is for certain,” Colton responded, his cock so hard he feared he would burst
from his breeches.
At four in the afternoon.
He washed her slender arms, the nape of her neck, the mesmerizing smoothness of her thighs.
When he found the warm softness between her legs, she parted for him, her breathing shifting to
small pants as he slid his fingers into heated tightness. The first moan made him long to elicit the
second and he leaned forward to kiss her, his hand beginning a rhythmic motion against her
sleek, satiny flesh.
This, he reminded himself, was not why he’d come to talk to her.
But a delightful change in plans just the same.
Her inner muscles clenched against his invading fingers and he smiled and deepened the kiss into
something more urgent, more carnal.
It was wickedly strange to be touched such a way in broad daylight, but Brianna found she didn’t
have one single objection.
Not one.
Colton’s mouth was warm and insistent, his tongue sweeping deep, and she touched his face
lightly, her damp fingers sliding along his lean jaw as his thumb gently rotated between her
parted thighs. Involuntarily she quivered, pleasure spiking through her body to settle in the pit of
her stomach.
“Delightful,” he murmured against her lips. “But I can do even better. I think you are done
bathing. Shall we move to the bed?”
Before she could answer he plunged both arms into the water and lifted her from the tub, heedless
of his clothes. Brianna gasped at the audacity of the gesture because it was so unexpected and out
of character. “Colton! You’ll get wet.”
“I’ve an entire wardrobe full of dry clothes in the next room.”
That was true, but she was still amazed he would act so impetuously. She clung to his broad
shoulders as he strode across the room and deposited her dripping body on her bed.
Systematically he began to disrobe, his gaze fastened on her. Boots first, tossed carelessly aside
/> in a very unColton-like way, his fine linen shirt—now soaked—unbuttoned and haphazardly
discarded, then his breeches, revealing his rampant erection.
They had never before made love during the day. Naturally the draperies were open, and sunlight
fell across his skin, gilding it to gold, defining the sleek, hard muscles of his body, lending
highlights to his thick hair. Brianna knew her husband thought she was beautiful, for he had told
her so with flattering sincerity, and the evidence of his desire for her was especially obvious at
this moment. But she found him beautiful too, in an entirely masculine way, with his lean, hard
body and chiseled features. People tended to think of Robert as the handsomest brother because
of his roguish charm, but in her not unbiased opinion, Colton was just as attractive if not more so.
He didn’t smile often enough, it was true, and she wished that would change, but from the very
first time she’d seen him, she had just known.
He was hers. And she had no intention of sharing him with any other woman.
She must be making some progress; the staid, reserved man she’d married three months before
wouldn’t have hauled her out of her bath in the middle of the afternoon.
“I want you,” he said, the declaration unnecessary because the physical evidence stood high
against his taut stomach.
“We are in accord then, Your Grace,” she murmured, pulling at the ribbon holding her hair and
letting the mass tumble free. “I want you.”
He climbed on the bed and moved over her, trapping her beneath him, his mouth seeking the
sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder. “I don’t have time for this.”
It was just about the least romantic thing she could think of for a man to say, but from Colton, it
was a high compliment. Brianna slid her hands across the muscled hardness of his shoulders with
a breathless laugh. “I shall contrive to make every minute worth your while.”
“Hmm.” He licked her throat, his erection rigid against her thigh.
The noncommittal response didn’t bother her because her wayward body was gripped by desire,
and as much as she wanted to please and beguile her handsome husband, she also felt an
overwhelming need to have him inside her. When his hand cupped her bare breast, she arched
into the caress, shameless and uninhibited, and a low moan tore from her throat. Between her