“Must you do that?”
“What am I doing?”
“Chew that full bottom lip of yours. It’s an open invitation.”
She took a step away. “It’s not meant to be,” she said, insulted that he’d think that of her. “It’s a habit.”
“Well, if you don’t want me to kiss you, you’d better stop it.”
The atmosphere crackled between them. “Do you want me to finish this or not?” she asked.
“I do. Kindly continue.”
She moved around to face him to gauge what she’d done. He gazed up at her with a small smile. At least the edgy expression she’d grown used to had gone. Dare she hope that one day he would come to love her?
He took her by surprise when his arm snaked around her hips. He pulled her onto his lap, his arms trapping her there. “I have developed an appetite,” he said, his breath feathering her ear.
“Then I’ll have food sent up.”
“Not for food. I want to make love to you.”
Her pulse beat faster. “Your temperature will rise.” She breathed in his musky male smell, sorely tempted to lean back against his broad chest and rest her head against his shoulder. It would be so easy to give in to him. She yearned to have him make love to her with every fiber of her being. She knew he wanted an heir, and she wanted that too. But she still feared that, if they made love now, all her resolve would be gone and the war that waged between them, he for her acquiescence, she for his respect, if not his love, would be lost.
With a narrow, glinting glance, he released her. “I’m not a very patient man.”
“I know, but you’re still a sick one.”
“That might be true, or you would be too busy right now to argue.” He broke into a fit of coughing, and Selina slipped off his lap and hurried to pour out a spoonful of the cough medicine, which did seem to help him.
His eyes narrowed at the mixture, but he opened his mouth. Shuddering, he swallowed and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs over the rug. “Kindly continue with the haircut.”
She dropped her gaze, fearing he would see how weak she was where he was concerned and how difficult it was for her to refuse him anything.
The knock at the door was a welcome distraction. Frobisher entered with the tea tray.
“Remember the first time we met?” Devereux asked.
“Of course I do.” Selina poured milk into teacups and stirred a teaspoon of honey in his to ease his throat. How could she not remember the handsome, devil-may-care man who had stolen her heart? The night of the Bath ball was burned into her brain. The ladies fluttered their fans in the hope he would dance with them, but for some unfathomable reason, Devereux had asked her. Three times, they’d danced together, causing a rumble of gossip, which she’d overheard: surely, the earl wouldn’t marry a nabob’s daughter and such a long Meg too. When they weren’t dancing, they’d talked, discovering interests in common: politics, the war, news she thirsted for. He was entertaining and knowledgeable and had her in thrall when he quoted from Milton.
Selina wished he would tell her the reason why he’d left her alone on their wedding day. She suspected there was far more to that distressing event than what had initially occurred to her.
“I decided that very night that, if I survived the war, I would marry you,” he said, taking a sip of tea.
Pleased that he cared a little for her, at least, it still irked her that he’d taken her for granted. “How could you be so certain I’d still be single?”
He brushed a hand through his fair hair, which settled into neat waves. She admired her handwork and longed to rake her fingers through it again. “I wasn’t of course,” he said. “But I knew you to be an intelligent woman, Selina. You wouldn’t fall for a rake or a fortune hunter. That left marrying for love or for physical attraction.” He grinned. “And I knew you fancied me.”
She grew hot with indignation. “Oh, the size of your head, my lord! It’s a wonder you can fit on your hat! I’ve long suspected you were insufferable. And it appears I was right.”
A smiled lifted the corner of his mouth. He raised his eyebrows. “Insufferable?”
Insufferable and impossibly gorgeous, but she wasn’t about to stroke his ego. Many women would have done it before her.
His blue eyes searched hers. “When I came home on leave and asked you to marry me that first time, why did you turn me down flat?”
“You mean your unromantic proposal, which was more of an afterthought? When your intention was to secure an heir and return to fight? I suppose I was underwhelmed.” It had been pure self-preservation. She couldn’t bear to marry him and have him be gone for years, leaving her to worry about him. And if he’d been killed, she wouldn’t have wanted to live.
He raised a brow but didn’t pursue it. “I’m confident we can rub along together reasonably well. If you’ll stop fussing over me like a mother.”
“You like my fussing. You just won’t admit it.” She teased him, hoping he meant it.
He threw back his head and laughed.
She loved to hear him laugh; his voice was deep, warm, and rich. She hoped to make him laugh like that often through the years of their marriage. But good marriages grew strong through years of devotion. How close would she and Devereux be in five years, ten?
“I’m damn tired of being sick,” he said, sobering. “I know I make a poor patient. And you are patience personified.”
“After dinner I’ll play cards or chess with you,” she said, offering him a panacea.
“You are a conniving woman. You wish to distract me.” He quirked a brow. “Are you confident you can beat me at piquet?”
“I shall certainly try.”
He grinned. “Please do, otherwise it will be too easy.”
“We mustn’t make you too excited,” she said with a smile.
“Oh no,” he said crossly. “We can’t have that!”
Chapter Ten
Giles couldn’t keep hold of the anger and disillusionment that his situation had thrown him in. Not when his pretty wife greeted him every morning and entertained him in harmless pursuits at night. He watched her across the card table, attempting to read her hand by her expression, but she was good at foxing. He enjoyed looking at her. Selina was an exotic flower amongst English daisies. She should wear the jewel colors many women couldn’t carry with any degree of grace. And if he survived this business, he fully intended to see her dressed that way.
As the days passed, Giles found it increasingly difficult to tamp down his frustration. He was still as weak as a kitten. It was something he wasn’t used to, and it infuriated him. He hid the desperate situation he found himself in from Selina, determined to do whatever was necessary to protect her. He didn’t believe in love, felt incapable of that level of emotion. But he’d made a splendid choice of a bride. He lay back and closed his eyes while she read from Shakespeare’s anthology. She gave her voice just the right inflection and brought the beautiful words to life.
“You read that exceedingly well.”
She glanced up at him looking shy and appealing. “Did I?”
He had to admit he enjoyed their evenings spent playing card games and chess. So far, he’d managed to beat her at both, but it was growing more difficult. She was a quick learner. He laughed at her, for it clearly made her annoyed to lose. She vowed that one night she would win. And he knew she would.
“Would you like to lie beside me while you read? You must be tired.”
She gave him a slow smile. Was there a hint of desire in her eyes? There was something else too, blast it. Determination to thwart him. He knew he could persuade her, but his performance would be wanting. That would not do. He was determined to introduce her to the delights of lovemaking when he was fully restored to health.
****
“I am quite comfortable in this chair, but thank you.”
Devereux’s look heated her body right down to her nether regions. She turned the page and continued r
eading, but her mind dwelt on the day soon coming when they would make love. She wriggled in the chair.
“You don’t look entirely comfortable, Selina,” he said with his direct blue stare. “I suspect you want to consummate this marriage as much as I do.”
“All the better to distract ourselves with other pursuits.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Then you admit it?”
“I refuse to continue this conversation. It gets us nowhere. Shall I leave you to rest or continue reading Macbeth?”
He sighed. “Read on. I could do with one of the witches’ potions right now.”
“For what purpose?” she asked with a giggle.
“To heal my body, slay my enemies, and to subdue you,” he quipped.
With a laugh, Selina rose to smooth his pillows. “You are getting better every day. As long as you don’t fret yourself into a relapse.” She settled back into the chair. “I wish we had news of the war,” she said, hoping to change the conversation.
“I daresay we’ll hear before long,” he said noncommittally.
She closed the book. “I think we’ve had enough of Shakespeare.”
“Will you sing to me?”
“What shall I sing?”
“I don’t care. Anything.”
Selina, aware that her voice wasn’t her best asset, launched into one of her favorite songs, “Greensleeves.”
He closed his eyes. “That’s a song about a woman of pleasure, you know,” he murmured, interrupting her.
“What? It isn’t!”
“The green gown is a reference to the grass stains on the woman’s dress from engaging in lovemaking outdoors.”
“That’s outrageous. Why Chaucer believed green to be the color of lightness in love. ‘Greensleeves is my delight.’”
“Yes, there’s that.” A smiled pulled at his lips, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“It makes me wonder why you wish to dress me in green, Devereux.”
“You’re my delight,” he said, drifting off.
He began to snore softly.
“I wish you meant that, my love,” she whispered.
She learned over him and smoothed back a lock of hair from his brow. Thick, dusky lashes brushed his cheeks. He frowned and murmured something indecipherable. Were his dreams still troubled? She resisted kissing him, but the impulse was so strong she took herself off out of the room.
As was now their habit, Selina joined Devereux in his bedchamber for breakfast at the table by the window. He was pleased when he heard his tenants’ roofs had been rethatched and that they now had a good supply of coal for winter. While she refilled his cup, she remembered she hadn’t told the gamekeeper about the stranger in the wood. It had completely left her mind.
She handed him his cup and saucer. “In the fuss of your arrival, I completely forgot! There was someone in the woods the day you arrived. I should have told the gamekeeper, but he hasn’t mentioned any sign of poachers.”
Devereux’s cup clattered into the saucer. His hands clenched the arms of his chair, knuckles white. “Did you see who it was?”
She eyed him carefully. “No, they ran deeper into the woods. I couldn’t follow on horseback.”
He glowered at her. “It was just as well that you couldn’t.”
“Why? And why are you glaring at me? Do you know who it is?”
“I don’t want you taking foolish risks. I forbid it.”
She widened her eyes. “You forbid it?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see the necessity to order me about,” she said stiffly. “I’m not reckless or stupid.”
“No you’re not.” His gaze shifted away from her as if he regretted his tone. “Poachers, more than likely.”
“I’ll send a note to alert the gamekeeper to keep a look out.”
“Do. And keep out of the woods for now. Promise me?”
“If you insist, although I don’t see why—”
“Never mind why.”
She added hot water to the teapot. “A letter arrived from Bath this morning,” she said, feeling it better to change the subject. “Anne has given birth to a boy.”
“That’s good news. Are they both well?”
“Yes, thank God.”
“You must go to Bath for a visit before winter sets in,” he said. “See the babe.”
Did he want her gone? “Now? But you’re not yet well.”
“I am hardly at death’s door, and I’m in good hands here. The doctor will attend me while you’re away.” His eyes clouded. “And I suppose you do want to get away from the sickroom for a while.”
Her throat tightened. “That isn’t true.”
“Nevertheless, you must go. Enjoy yourself.”
He wanted her gone. Did she fuss too much? Her heart throbbed with distress. “Thank you,” she said in a brisk tone. “I shall go at the end of the week. When you’re in better health.”
“Go tomorrow.” He cast her a sly glance. “Or, poor health or not, I shall bed you, madam.” He threaded the sash of his banyan through his fingers.
She tried not to think of those fingers stroking her skin. “I’ll not shirk my duties as a wife, my lord, when the time is right.”
“How much I look forward to introducing you to those duties, wife.”
She longed to tell him how much she desired him, loved him, needed him, but she wouldn’t beg. He wanted her gone. Her pride kept her silent. “Your eyes look feverish. It would be best for you to return to bed and rest.”
“My eyes are filled with unquenched desire.” But his legs shook, and he had to grip her shoulder.
“Why don’t we both return to bed?”
His fingers tightened about her wrist. Devereux pulled her down with him and rolled over, securing her within his arm. His face lowered to hers. Trapped by the possessive expression in his blue gaze, as if he was seeking to learn all her secrets, she closed her eyes. A hand trailed across her jawbone, and she let her lids flutter open. With a smoldering look, he focused on her mouth. Selina swallowed as her stomach clenched on a frisson of desire, his scent rising to torment her. She could feel his heart beating hard. Or was it hers?
“Now, this is cozy, is it not?” He released her hair, tossing hairpins onto the floor.
Released her hair fell to her waist. “It took an age for Sarah to dress it!”
“As lustrous as a crow’s wing. I like the fragrance. What is it? Lilies of the valley?”
“It is. No doubt you’re familiar with a variety of fragrances.”
“Now that isn’t nice. Might you be jealous?” He grinned and stroked his palm across her stomach, causing another strong pull of need low down. “Must you be so acerbic, madam? I paid you a compliment.”
She wriggled uneasily. “I suppose I’m not used to it. Thank you, the compliment is appreciated.” His knowledge of women’s perfume rankled. She was jealous. She was resentful of every woman he’d ever known. It was unworthy of her, but he made her helpless.
He wound her hair around his fist, holding her in place. “I doubt I’m infectious now. You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve kissed me.”
The hurt she felt at his careless rejection made her body like a taut wire. His kiss would be her undoing. She pressed her mouth to his in a butterfly kiss.
“That’s not a kiss.”
His hands squeezed her waist and pulled her back against him. He was all sinew and muscle, his hands like iron, despite his illness. But his fingers gentled when he cradled her face, and she stilled as he lowered his mouth to hers. He was experienced, damn him, and knew what he was about, just how to pleasure her as he angled his head to take her top lip. Her head swam as desire surged through her body, and her fingers curled into her palms to prevent her from grasping his hair to pull him down to her.
“I have yet to enjoy my marital rights,” he said in an accusatory tone. As if it was her fault. “Remove your gown, lady wife.”
She couldn’t fight him, but neither did s
he obey his command. She sensed he was acting more out of frustration than desire. And she’d heard the rattle in his chest. Concerned, she escaped from the bed and clambered to her feet. Hands on her hips, she shook her head.
“Devereux, you are still ill.”
He rolled his eyes and sank back onto the pillows. “If I was myself, you’d be naked, and I’d be between your thighs by now.”
Hot and bothered, she batted away the image filling her mind. “Let’s talk.” She hoped her rapid breathing didn’t give her away.
With a heavy sigh, he crossed his arms. “Very well. Begin.”
She sat on the chair. “I didn’t finish telling you about my discussion with the gamekeeper yesterday. I gave him your orders to leave some of the fallen trees to afford the game protection from foxes. Scullen tells me there’s no need to restock, for game birds have bred in large numbers. There’s a glut of deer too, and there’ll be a shortage of food for winter, so they must be culled and provide venison for the table. There’s a good supply of salmon in the river.”
“I’ll be well enough to do some fishing soon. Have Frobisher bring down the rods and equipment from the attics. I’ll fish while you’re away.”
He still wanted her to go. “If the weather is fine. Take care not to get wet. We are coming into winter. It would be most unwise.”
He plucked at the sheet with restless fingers. “How long will you be gone?”
“It will be at least a month.” She tried to read his expression. “Anne and the children will want me to spend time with them.”
He nodded. “Of course. They must miss you.”
She hurtled back to earth as reality struck. She’d hoped he’d begun to care for her and had expected him to protest at her lengthy stay. “When I return, we must talk.”
“Oh?” He folded his arms.
“We have not yet discussed what happened on our wedding day. I feel it stands between us.”
At the Earl's Convenience Page 6