Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  Other widows entertained gentlemen in their beds, and they did not become enceinte. And she had only done it once. It was not fair.

  “What do you think, Hermes? What should I do?”

  Hermes yawned and put his head down on his paws. He appeared completely unmoved by her troubles.

  She blew out a long breath and looked at the connecting door. How difficult could it be? She and Alex were both mature adults. They could discuss this rationally, couldn’t they?

  Panic grabbed her throat so tightly she could barely breathe.

  Perhaps she should practice. She walked over and stood in front of the looking glass.

  “Mr. W-Wilton—” She cleared her throat and took a few deep breaths. “Mr. Wilton, I wish to…to…”

  She could not sound frightened. There was nothing to be frightened about—

  Of course there was something to be frightened about…it was growing in her womb right now. She put a shaking hand on her stomach.

  What did she want from Alex? A marriage proposal? How could she accept? She would be making him pay for her folly. She was too honorable for that. Perhaps a proposal of a different sort? But men did not want pregnant mistresses and squalling brats.

  She put both hands over her abdomen. Her baby would not be a squalling brat. He or she would be loved and well cared for…if they both weren’t starving in the workhouse.

  She leaned on the dressing table and took some more deep breaths. This was not working.

  The important thing was to tell Alex that she was…that he was…that there was a child on the way. Once that basic task had been accomplished, she could address all the other issues. With luck—a commodity that had been sadly lacking in her life of late—Alex would not totally desert her. He might even have some constructive thoughts on how to address the problem.

  Yes, of course. Two heads were better than one…She touched her stomach once more. Not two—three…Oh, dear.

  She squared her shoulders and stepped up to the connecting door. Enough. It was time to find some courage—past time.

  She put her hand on the knob and took one more sustaining breath. She could—

  She was jerked forward as the door opened from the other side.

  “Eek!” She reached out with her free hand to brace herself and encountered a hard, male chest. “Oh!”

  “Kate! Are you all right?” Alex grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

  “Um.” He smelled of brandy and linen and…Alex. He’d taken off his coat and waistcoat. His fine lawn shirt was so soft under her fingers.

  His skin was softer. She remembered the feel of him very clearly…

  She snatched her hand back as if burned. He frowned down at her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course, I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?” She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to sound so sharp, but her stomach was jumping around like Miss Smyth’s monkey. She cleared her throat—her mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara. “May I come in?”

  The right corner of his mouth slid up into a half smile. “You already are.”

  She flushed. “Well, yes, but may I come farther in?”

  The left corner of his mouth turned up to match the right. He stepped aside. “Of course. Would you like a glass of brandy?”

  Brandy was not one of her favorite drinks, but it might help steady her nerves now. “Yes, thank you. That would be very pleasant.” She stepped past him. She glanced briefly at the bed—she was already as red as a ripe tomato, so her added blush would surely go unnoticed—and then focused on the chair by the fire. The single chair.

  She stopped. Where should she sit?

  “What’s the matter?” Alex looked up from pouring the brandy.

  “I, er…nothing.” She would stand.

  His brow furrowed. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

  She was not very comfortable—in fact, she was exceedingly uncomfortable. She was nervous. And he wasn’t helping matters.

  A man should not be so handsome. Alex had discarded his cravat. The neck of his shirt was open, revealing the strong column of his throat. She remembered exactly how he’d looked with no shirt at all, how broad his shoulders were, how soft the hair that spread over his chest, trailing down to…

  She turned away quickly to stare at the fire. She was certainly hot. And…damp. Wet. Achy and…

  “Go ahead and sit in the chair, Kate.”

  She clasped her hands tightly together. Kate. She loved it when he called her Kate instead of Lady Oxbury. She was tired of being Lady Oxbury. She wanted to be just Kate, just herself, and to hear her name in his voice. It was so intimate. Just the two of them, just Kate and Alex. No interfering brothers, no obnoxious cousins-in-law, no gossiping ton—just them.

  And one other. She put her hand over her stomach. She had to tell him.

  She looked back at him. “Where will you sit?”

  He waved his hand vaguely. “Somewhere.”

  Mmm. His hands. He wasn’t wearing gloves; his long, broad fingers were naked.

  She remembered exactly how those hands had felt on her skin. Slightly calloused; strong but gentle; sure and tantalizing; teasing; promising…

  Her knees felt weak. She definitely needed to sit. She lowered herself into the chair—and shot back out of it. It was still warm from Alex’s body.

  “What’s the matter?” Alex’s voice roughened with concern. “Did you sit on a pin or something?”

  “N-no.”

  He came over, handed her the brandy glasses, and bent to run his hands over the seat. She had a glorious view of his breeches stretched tight over his muscular arse.

  She wet her lips. And she remembered exactly how his naked arse had felt under her hands as he’d pumped his seed into her…his seed which had taken root, his seed whose fruit was the impetus for this visit.

  She had to tell him she was increasing.

  She took a swallow of brandy.

  “I don’t feel anything sharp.” He straightened. He was so much taller and larger than she. “I think it’s safe for you to sit now.”

  “I…I think I’d prefer to sit on the ottoman, if you don’t mind.” She suited action to words. Unfortunately, this brought her eyes directly on level with Alex’s fall. If she raised her hand, she could touch him there. If she leaned just a little forward, she could kiss…

  Did she see a more pronounced bulge?

  Alex sat down abruptly and took his brandy back from her. “Did you have a particular reason for…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, why did you come…” He shook his head. “No matter.” He smiled. “I am delighted to see you, Kate.” He leaned forward and combed his free hand through her hair. “I’ve missed you.” His thumb stroked her cheek.

  She swallowed. Her condition was making her very weepy. “Ah…” They had just seen each other downstairs, but she knew that was not what he meant. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  The last time they’d been together in a bedchamber, he’d left so abruptly—both her bed and London. That had been her fault—it was the first thing she should apologize for. “I’m sorry for what I said. I never meant to hurt you.”

  He did not pretend to misunderstand. “What did you mean, Kate?”

  She pulled back a little and looked down at her brandy. “I-I’d dreamt of you for years, Alex, all the years of my marriage. And then, when I saw you in the Duke of Alvord’s ballroom…”

  She paused. She wanted to say something that sounded like the truth, but wasn’t quite. She couldn’t. Alex deserved to hear all of it, the carnal with the sweet.

  She tried again. “I wanted you, Alex. I’ve wanted you all these years. I wanted to see if…loving you would be as good as I’d dreamt. But I didn’t want you to feel compelled to offer more than a pleasant romp in the sheets.” She smiled briefly. “I thought a single romp would be enough to satisfy my curiosity. The actual act…with Oxbury, it hadn’t been…well, I could have lived without it. But with you…�
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  His hands gently tilted her face up so she had to meet his eyes. “It was never about a romp in the sheets to me, Kate. Never. Was it really that for you?”

  More truth. She bit her lip. “No.” The word came out in a whisper. “No, it was never that.”

  “What was it then?” He took the brandy glass from her fingers. His hands slid down to her shoulders and then her upper arms. He urged her closer. She half stood and he swept her forward onto his lap. “If it was not purely physical, what was it, Kate?”

  “Um.” He expected her to think, sitting on his lap in her nightgown, unprotected by stays or shift?

  She didn’t need to think—she knew it was love, on her part at least, but she didn’t have the courage to say so.

  “One chair is enough, don’t you agree?” he said.

  “Ah.” One chair seemed more than enough. She was overwhelmed by sensation—his thighs pressing against her bottom; his arm firm around her; his chest cradling her; his fingers stroking her jaw. She tilted her head to rest on his shoulder.

  She should tell him now. “Alex.”

  “Hmm?” He had that very intent, very hot look in his eyes. His mouth was coming closer. She let her eyes drift shut as his lips touched hers.

  She would tell him later.

  His fingers left her jaw to cup her breast.

  “Eep!” She’d swear a jolt of energy shot from his fingers directly to the aching place between her legs.

  He chuckled. “I’d rather make you sigh than squeak, my love. Let me try again.”

  His tongue slipped between her lips and stroked deep into her mouth. His thumb found her nipple. Thankfully, her breasts were no longer sore.

  She had to tell him.

  She would tell him later when she could think of something other than the feel of his tongue sliding over hers. He was working loose the little buttons that ran up the front of her gown. His large male fingers were taking much too long with the task. She would be happier if he would just rip the gown open.

  He’d called her his love. Had he truly meant it? Or was that just a casual endearment, something he said to any woman he had panting in his hands.

  She was definitely panting. Ah. He finally had the nightgown open. He was touching her, his fingers sliding over her skin. It felt so very good. And…oh. His mouth left hers to move to her jaw and then to the sensitive spot right below her ear…

  Yes. He was moving in the right direction. She arched a little to encourage him.

  “Eager, Kate?”

  She would think him exceedingly obnoxious, cocky even, if she hadn’t heard the catch in his voice, the slight breathlessness.

  She shifted on his lap. Hmm. Perhaps he was cocky. Very cocky. There certainly was a large ridge growing under her—

  “Ohh.” His mouth, his tongue, had reached her nipple.

  Alex smiled. He’d made Kate moan. He wanted to moan, too. His…desire was becoming a very large, throbbing ache.

  He laved her nipple and made her moan again.

  Why was Kate in his room? Did she have the same purpose he’d had when he’d opened her door?

  Well, there was no rush. They had all night. Mmm. All night. He could think of a number of things he would like to do to pass the time.

  He moved to her other breast. He needed to get her out of this nightgown. He wanted to see every beautiful inch of her as he had at Oxbury House. He’d dreamt of that night so many times.

  He returned to her mouth and skimmed his free hand over her hip, down her leg, to the hem of her nightgown. This chair was all very well, but he would prefer the bed. He wanted to stretch her out naked on the sheets and have both hands free to explore her thoroughly. Very thoroughly.

  He started sliding his hand back up her leg, taking her gown with him.

  At some point she would come to the reason for her visit. If she did not, he would initiate a conversation. One way or the other, she was not leaving this room without telling him whether he was going to be a father or not.

  God! The thought that his child might be growing in Kate’s body…it was terrifying and awe-inspiring. His babe at her breast…a son or daughter with his blood and Kate’s. It was a dream he’d not had the courage to dream for years.

  He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, pretending it was true, praying it was true.

  He would ask her if she did not tell him, but it would be better if she told him. Perhaps she would find it easier to talk in bed…naked in bed…

  He now had her skirt up to her knees. He could not proceed farther without a bit of contortion. It was time to move this interesting activity to a more congenial location.

  He slipped one arm under Kate’s knees and the other around her back and stood up.

  “Eek!” She flung her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

  He grinned. “Taking you to bed. Does that meet with your approval?”

  “Yes.” Some of the lust cleared from her eyes and she frowned. “No.”

  “No? I promise sharing a bed will be far more comfortable than sharing that chair—though that was very nice and I will return us there, if you insist.” He bent his head to kiss her again, but she put her fingers on his lips before he could reach her mouth.

  “No, Alex. Put me down.”

  She hated to say those words, but she had to. If she went to bed with him now, she would not find the presence of mind to tell him what she had come here to say, at least not until long after they had done what she most wanted to do in that lovely bed. She might even persuade herself to put off telling him till the end of the house party.

  He shifted his hands and slid her down the length of his body. She felt the hard ridge of his erection. He was as eager to go to bed as she was.

  Would it be so very wrong? The damage—would he see it as damage?—was already done; he couldn’t get her with child again. They would both enjoy the interlude. They could spend the remaining nights of the house party pleasuring each other. It would be wonderful.

  It would be wrong. By keeping her child—their child—a secret, she would be lying to him, and she wanted only truth between them from this moment on. When she opened her body to him this time, she wanted to open her mind and heart as well. If he wanted no part of her once he knew—well, so be it.

  She took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and looked directly into Alex’s eyes.

  Chapter 18

  “There is something I must tell you.”

  Kate looked so serious. Her eyes were huge; her face was still; there wasn’t a hint of a smile anywhere in her countenance. She was still standing in the circle of his arms, but she had withdrawn completely.

  He fought the urge to pull her close. “Yes, Kate?”

  “I…I…” She swallowed. There was a tight, almost panicked look about her eyes now. Should he help her, tell her he already knew?

  But did he know? Perhaps she was trying to tell him something else. “Just say it, Kate. It can’t be that bad.”

  “But it is!” Her voice was almost a wail. She must have heard it, too, because she pressed her lips tightly together and closed her eyes. Was that a tear shimmering on her cheekbone? He brushed his thumb over the dampness, then wove both hands through her hair to cradle her head. He kissed her gently, briefly on the mouth.

  “Tell me, sweetheart. Trust me, please?”

  Her eyes flew open. “But you can’t trust me!”

  Can’t trust her? He felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut. Had she been entertaining other men in her bed—is that what this was about? But why would she feel the need to tell him that?

  This time he was not going to jump to conclusions.

  “Kate, you are making me anxious. Just say the words. We’ll deal with the message once it’s out, all right?”

  “All right.” She stepped back; he let her go. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her and stared at his chest.

  “Do you remember what I told you when you”—she cleared her throat�
��“visited me at Oxbury House? When we…” She gestured toward the bed and then glanced up at Alex.

  His face took on a cautious expression. “You told me many things. Which particular bit are you referring to?”

  “I—” He must think her a complete ninny. She was not normally one to beat around the bush. She would take his advice and just say it. “When you came to Oxbury House, I told you I was barren.”

  “Yes, I believe you did.”

  “I’m sure I did. That’s why you agreed to…” She gestured at the bed again. “You know.”

  He was frowning now. “I do know, but you are wrong. I did not take you to bed because you’d told me you were barren. I took you because I couldn’t help myself. I wanted you more than food or water or air.”

  “Oh.”

  His eyes were so intent, so clear and honest—but she still hadn’t told him about the baby. She couldn’t entertain any other thoughts until she told him that. She dropped her gaze back to his chest and forced the words out.

  “I lied. I’m not barren. I did think I was, because after all those years of marriage, I never conceived. It’s true Oxbury didn’t try often or at all at the end, but when we were first married, he was very assiduous in his efforts to procure an heir.”

  She looked back up at his face. Was he paler than before? She saw a pulse beating in his temple. He must hate her.

  “Kate, why are you telling me this? How do you know now you aren’t barren?”

  “Because—” She stared at his chest again. No, she should look him in the eye when she told him. She wrenched her attention back to his face. “Because I am…with child—with your child.”

  His eyes widened. He looked shocked for a moment, and then his face lit up. He grinned and grabbed her shoulders.

  “You are? Are you certain?”

  “I-I think so. Marie seems certain. And there are signs that I am.”

  He pulled her into a tight hug. “I had hoped as much—David had hinted at it, but then, what does he know about such things?”