****
He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said frankly. ‘It depends on a lot of factors. One of which is your decision. I want you to be sure. Today was fast and furious, other times it could be a long, slow assault on your senses. I am a demanding lover, or…’ he shook his head, amazed at how he was revealing himself and his past to her, ‘…perhaps I should say, demanding and generous with my body. Good lord.’ He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. ‘That is not the sort of thing I should be discussing with you.’
‘Why not?’ Mary asked him in a puzzled tone. ‘Ah, because you are telling me what a previous lover said? I fail to see why that is considered not to be convenable. After all, it is something I need to know. I’m not miss-ish. I will say thank you, and respond by saying I have been told I am receptive, greedy, demanding, giving, but also ferocious when I bestow my body. So it seems as you said on a previous occasion. We mesh. I…’ she bit her lip and added softly, ‘… my answer is yes, and now I need to get up, dress and leave.’
Brody’s eyes widened and for a brief moment he looked startled before he dropped his lids and hid his reaction to her words behind an impassive expression.
What did he want her to say? Mary could see no reason to be coy, even if that was her name. The name he knew nothing about. She quickly blocked that thought off.
‘Unfortunately,’ she offered as a sop to her niggling conscience. ‘I wish I could stay longer.’
He grunted and lifted her so she could stand by the bed. ‘Sadly we have no hot water, no bath to soak in and only a rough towel to dry on. But next time…’
‘We will arrange it in advance? Have somewhere to put our clothes instead of the floor? Hot water and, if nothing else, a brush and comb?’
‘Just so.’ Brody stood up in one swift movement, stretched and kissed her – slow and lingering, until she leaned against him and met him with equal fervour. He broke the kiss slowly and patted her bare bottom. ‘I’ll fill the ewer next door for you. Then if you want I will gladly play lady’s maid.’
‘I’ll have to accept, although I would normally hesitate. Not because I think you will not fill the role admirably, for I’m sure you will, but I know how your mind works.’ I have to go, I need to think. ‘I’m not sure the right places would be washed.’
He grinned. ‘Oh they would,’ he purred. ‘Misspent youth.’
She thought it was more than that but didn’t come back with a witty answer. ‘I’d wager it would usually not help us dress,’ she said serenely. ‘Anything but. Next time I’ll wear something without lots of buttons.’
‘But buttons are enticing,’ Brody protested, ‘enticing, alluring…’
‘And annoying,’ Mary butted in with a grin.
‘And annoying,’ he agreed as he opened the door to the next room. ‘Give me a few moments to get some water ready.’ He disappeared.
Mary mentally hugged herself. She felt invigorated and full of life. If this was the result of one swift coupling, what would she be like after one of his promised long-lingering sessions?
She daren’t imagine, but she could wonder.
Brody re-entered the room. ‘Fresh water, all yours, plus a towel and some tooth powder. I wonder…’ he hesitated and for once looked unsure of himself.
She waited.
‘Yes?’ she asked after the silence stretched so long she wondered if he had forgotten his question.
‘Do you trust me to arrange everything else we need? Even… even vinegar and sponges?’
‘I… why yes.’ What else could she say? After all, it would perhaps be easier for him than her.
‘Then I will, and now hurry up woman. You want to get back and leave me alone once more.’ He went for a pathetic look and Mary bit back her grin. He was incorrigible.
‘Pfft. With such a large dose of self-pity as that, you won’t be alone.’ She waggled her finger at him as she remembered an unusual expression she had heard Horry say. ‘Man up.’
His laugh followed her into the next room.
Their good moods lasted until they were within a few minutes of her home.
‘What time shall I call for you tomorrow?’ Brody asked as he turned in between the gateposts and walked his horses along the drive. ‘We could visit the gazebo.’
We could? I think not, somehow. This is going much too fast. She wanted him, yes, but she also needed time to regroup, and decide how to impart her secrets, if indeed she decided it was best. Plus, there was no way she would allow him to monopolise her every moment. For when he decided he’d had enough, as she was sure he would, she would need to still have things to do – to occupy her body and mind. If all her time was spent with him now, those things, whatever they were, might no longer be available.
‘Sorry,’ she said with a false cheerfulness. ‘I’m busy for the next two days.’
The horse broke into a trot as he took his attention from them and focused it all on her. ‘Doing what?’
‘That is my business, not yours.’
He did the ducal eyebrow raise that normally would have her stuttering. Not this time. It might only be the day she wanted to finish her novel, sketch him as she remembered him – naked and sated – and hide it somewhere so it would be for her eyes only, but that apart he had to learn she was not at his beck and call.
‘Friday will be convenient.’
‘Not for me,’ he said stiffly.
Oh ho, sulky schoolboy syndrome.
‘Ah well, then whenever we can find the times to suit us both. Let me know what you think and l will check my diary.’ She kept her tone light and airy and had to stifle a chuckle at his chagrined look. Oh dear, men. Mary decided to help him a little. After all, he was a male and a duke to boot so probably expected instant agreement to his every whim.
‘Brody, as much as I yearn to feel you next to me once more, I rather think tomorrow I’ll be too sore and stiff to do much other than wallow in the bath and relax.’ It was partly true.
‘Ah.’ He looked abashed.
‘Ah indeed. Plus I have to catch up on household accounts, visit the school and think of a plan to cover my times away. Then I’ll be able to enjoy them all the more.’
His grin of relief was more than she expected.
‘Shall I send you some horse liniment?’ he asked in a pseudo-solicitous manner. ‘It’s said to be good for human aches and pains.’
‘You are too kind. However, I’ll stick to Mrs Niven’s potions thank you.’
Chapter Ten
It was funny how easily they settled into a routine that was no routine at all, Brody mused as he cantered along the narrow lane that led to the stables of the Grange. So far all had gone well. After Mary’s initial insistence they slowed down, Brody had to admit – grudgingly – that she was correct to take things at a slower pace. Used to always being in charge, to making decisions and having them acted upon immediately, her teasing insistence that sometimes he took a step back and paid attention to what she said shook him. Even more so when he agreed she was correct and did as she asked.
Sometimes he wondered just who was seducing whom. And realised he didn’t care. As long as they continued in their friendly, amorous, interested-in-each-other way.
The harvest dance had proved to be a tremendous success. The estate workers gave him three resounding cheers, when he declared that due to their diligence each would receive a bonus before Christmas.
His mama or siblings hadn’t returned for it. They were to, according to her missive, in Scotland where she hoped to have some interesting news regarding one of his brothers and, underlined heavily, one of his sisters. Brodie, as head of the family, had treated that nugget with a raised eyebrow. No one of any honour would offer for one of his sisters unless they had asked him first, whatever his mama hoped.
He had to be honest and admit that without her somewhat intimidating presence the dance ran smoother and with a lot less pomp than there would have been. All dances were country dances performed with enthusiasm, lots of local ale and
by incredibly happy people. Even though he’d only managed one dance with Mary, Brody had enjoyed himself.
An aside from his housekeeper along the lines of “there now, it’s nice to see how well you and Miss Mary are getting on – she’d be an asset to the estate you know,” had brought him up short. Was his attention so particular it was thought he was courting her?
Would it be a bad thing if he were? More and more he wondered if he was truly satisfied? Was she? Oh their lovemaking was perfect, the time they spent together precious, but sometimes he admitted he thought something lacking. Something ephemeral that he couldn’t pin down or put into words.
Brody dismounted and tied his horse to a convenient ring. His visit wasn’t premeditated, they had no arrangement to go to Blissland or meet that day, but as he set out to ride around the castle some impulse turned him in her direction. To ask her to accompany him and talk on neutral ground. Not at Blissland where their first reaction to each other was to disrobe and make love. Nor at church or the school where people listened avidly to any conversation between him and Mary. The gazebo was also no longer safe. They had proved that a few days earlier when he’d taken her from behind as she stood and looked out of the window and across the valley. Their coupling had left them both shaking and sated and made him wonder all the more where their liaison was going.
In fact, Brody thought as he walked towards the house, he wasn’t sure where they could meet, not be overheard but not pounce on each other. The village square perhaps? At midnight when all others were abed? Even then he’d wager someone would wake up, see them and come out to find out what was wrong.
That was something he’d like to know as well. Was it only he who wanted more, or was Mary equally as disquieted? Brody didn’t think it was a subject that could be approached easily. After all, he didn’t want to end their relationship, anything but. However, if he asked her if she was happy, and said he wasn’t, surely that sounded so negative it would be easy for her to assume he wanted to end everything?
Brody pondered over that knotty question as he reached the door that led directly into the room Mary used for boots, gardening tools and assorted household items not in everyday use. It was a convenient entry where only Mrs Niven might catch him and, in the nicest way possible, quiz him about his intentions. Today he had his story primed and ready. Had she heard any complaints with regards to the proposed siting of a new bridge over the river next to the weir? He was well versed in the villagers’ ways of mulling things over with each other and asking advice from someone who might have the ear of the Duke.
That thought made him chuckle. He had had more than her ear, on many occasions. Brody reached out to lift the latch of the door just as it swung towards him. He took a hasty step back, ready to bite his tongue and not blast whoever opened the door so unheeding of where anyone was outside.
Think. Why should they imagine that? Only the household use it. Plus him, but that wasn’t generally known – or was it? Brody mentally castigated himself. He was not expected, and if he used the main door like all other visitors they wouldn’t be in this situation.
‘Sorry, I… Welland? Good grief what are you doing here?’ A tall blond man in exquisite unmentionables and a form-fitting dove grey jacket blocked his way.
Brody looked into grey eyes once as familiar as his own. ‘Bancroft? I could say the same to you?’
The elegant aristocrat, dressed more for town than the country, blinked but answered readily. ‘Visiting m’sister. This is her house.’
Sister?
‘Mrs Lynch is your sister?’
Bancroft looked puzzled and then his face cleared. “Ly…oh lord is she using that again? Yes, I assume so. Dark haired, good figure?’ He sketched the outline of a curvaceous woman with his hands.
Brody nodded as a lump of dread filled his stomach. Mary was Lord Desmond Bancroft’s sister?
God almighty.
‘Mary, my sister. Lady McCoy,’ Bancroft said obligingly. ‘Been a widow for best part of a year now. I’m trying to get her to rejoin the ton, but she’s bloody stubborn. Says she has everything she wants here.’
Everything? ‘Lucky lady.’ Brody didn’t know what else to say, and hoped his bitterness wasn’t evident. Had she played a deep game to ensnare him? Surely not, even if that now had to be the outcome. Leg shackled in such a way. His temper simmered and how he kept it from boiling over he had no idea.
‘Anyway, you didn’t say what you are doing here?’ Bancroft said in a puzzled voice, his brow furrowed. Then his face cleared. ‘Oh I forgot, this must be part of your estate.’
‘The village is,’ Brody said in a calm manner that surprised him. He felt anything but calm. ‘This house and its land is no longer. It was sold many years ago by m’father to a Lord McCoy.’ Now of course all was becoming clear. ‘Whom I presume is related to your sister.’
Bancroft nodded. ‘Late husband. So why are you here?’ He didn’t sound suspicious, just mildly inquisitive.
‘I am here on two errands,’ Brody said glibly, thinking fast. ‘I need a recipe for a poultice for rheumatism from Mrs Niven for my housekeeper and I want to know if Lady McCoy has heard of any objections to the new bridge. Here in the village she’s more likely to than me.’ He didn’t add, “and now to shake your sister and find out what game she has been playing”. ‘In my muck…’ he gestured to his riding clothes which were suited for the country not the town, ‘… I thought it best to come through here and find Mrs Niven first, then ask after Mrs… Damn I need to remember, Lady McCoy.’
‘You can kill two birds with one stone then,’ Bancroft said cheerfully. ‘I left them both in the kitchen, and I smell scones.’
Brody smelled more than scones. He smelled a rat.
****
Mary looked up with a smile as Desmond, her brother, came back into the kitchen. ‘That didn’t take long. I told you the stables were… oh hell.’ She saw who entered behind Desmond.
‘Eh?’ Desmond looked surprised. ‘Hell what?’
‘Er, help. I’m not dressed for visitors. Holla,’ she improvised rapidly. ‘I didn’t know anyone was with you.’
Brody looked at her and bowed. She hoped no one else could see the fury that glittered in his eyes. It made her shiver.
‘Cold, my lady?’ he asked in a hard tight voice. ‘Strange, for I would have said we are enjoying a halcyon period of weather.’
Two could play at that game. Mrs Niven shot her a concerned glance before she assiduously studied the pot she stirred. Mary flashed her a tight smile and curtseyed towards Brody. She would not let him see how guilty she felt, or how his hard expression both frightened and saddened her.
‘I fancy the air is chilly, but no matter, I’ve been able to keep warm until now.’ She gave Brody a steady look. The blighter showed no sign of it disturbing him. ‘Desmond, I fancy I do not have to introduce you to His Grace.’
Desmond shook his head. ‘Lord no.’ He seemed oblivious to the less than warm atmosphere. ‘School and Whites don’t you know. Brody was one I tried to emulate and fell sadly short.’
‘Perhaps just as well,’ Brody drawled, so much the noble that everyone in the room stared at him. He ignored them. ‘When I remember some of my excesses. Best to draw a veil over them. My lady, if I may have a word?’
Mary nodded. ‘Of course, Desmond, if you will excuse us?’ What else could she do? ‘In the study, Your Grace?’
‘Perfect. Lead on.’ He smiled but the tight-lipped gesture didn’t reach his eyes. He opened the door and let his gaze rake her body. His expression was close enough to insolence – or lechery – to make her stiffen. He grinned. ‘I’m all yours.’ The tone said opposite.
It was hard but Mary managed to smile at the other two occupants of the kitchen. ‘I have no idea how long I’ll be. Luncheon for us at one as usual, Mrs Niven. I assume you’ll stop, Desmond?’ She’d already told him in no uncertain terms she was staying where she was, and had no intention of returning to the capital with
him.
‘I reckon so,’ Desmond said cheerfully. ‘Then I can have another go at persuading you to fall in with my wishes before I head to Carson’s for a few days’ shooting. I might be able to get you to change your mind, you never know. Shall we set a place for you, Welland?’
‘He’s busy.’ Mary said hastily.
Brody’s eyes narrowed. ‘It seems I am busy. Another time.’
‘Ah well, means I can make m’sister agree with me eh?’
‘I doubt it. So, luncheon for us both, Mrs Niven, thank you.’ Mary made no mention of Brody, a fact both Desmond and Mrs Niven couldn’t fail to notice. Neither commented. Brody chuckled. It was not a nice sound. ‘Hurry up or you’ll be late for lunch’ he said softy. It wanted but twenty minutes to the hour. ‘Move.’
Like I’m a dog or one of his cattle, schooled to obedience. Nevertheless she swept past him and into the study. He was so close behind her that she barely had time to turn to face him before she heard the click as he turned the key in the lock and he metaphorically pounced. He took hold of her shoulder and gripped, none too gently.
‘What on earth? What is going on?’ The words shot out of his mouth like bullets. ‘How much have you kept from me, Lady McCoy?’ The swift shake to her shoulders was as unexpected to her as the flash of what looked like hurt in his eyes, swiftly masked.
Surely not?
‘I kept nothing back, but the name of my late husband,’ Mary said shortly, and ignored the niggle to her conscience. All thoughts of placation fled from her as he glared. How dare he? He hadn’t been totally open, had he? The niggling thought that maybe he was unable to be was uncomfortable.
‘Ah yes, Sir Horace McCoy I imagine?’ Brody let go of her as if she were a hot coal and paced across the room, only to return and stand in front of her. ‘Which means you’re one of the richest women in England. No wonder no one knew where you’d hidden yourself. The hoards were wondering. “Where is she, can I snare her, whose taken a march on me?” Then you give yourself to me… no, let’s get that right, you give part of yourself to me and hide the rest of you. Did it make you feel good?’ he demanded in a hard tight voice. ‘Make you snigger to yourself that you had pulled the wool over my eyes? Heavens woman, I might not be in the realms of your husband for the readies, but I’m not far behind. Surely you knew I didn’t want you for your money.’
The Duke's Seduction of Lady M Page 18