Temptation Has Green Eyes

by Lynne Connolly

  His place. Totally his.

  The next time after he withdrew, he slammed back in, the impact jolting her forward, but he was ready for it. He gripped her waist, dragging her against him to stop her forward momentum.

  “Brace yourself, sweetheart. Here we go.”

  No mercy now, and none wanted. Deep, hard thrusts, pushing against her with every stroke, taking her. Owning her. She would give anything to have him do this.

  “Don’t stop,” she said between gasps. Her arms trembled, threatening to let her down so she locked her elbows to keep herself steady for him.

  Sophia was a fast learner, and she put her expertise to use now. If she rocked against him as he drove into her, she could create that smacking sound as their bodies collided and open her body to him as much as possible. As much as she dared.

  He roared her name, growled it, ordered her to give everything up to him. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Forget everything but me, everything but this,” punctuating his words with harder thrusts until she howled with ecstasy.

  But she didn’t come. Instead, he brought her to a plateau of awareness, of a place where his every touch thrilled her, and all she knew was him. All she wanted to know.

  At last he curled one arm around her, dragging her closer, and touched her clitoris, pinched it in time to his thrusts. And the currents of sensation turned into a river. Crying his name, she jerked, and her passage tightened around him in involuntary spasms as she lost her breath to her orgasm.

  Dimly, his voice rose, and he gave one shout before he jetted his seed deep inside, deeper than he’d been before.

  With breathless laughter, he leaned over her, lifted her up so she could rest against him. Then kissed her shoulder and her neck before easing her down on to the sheets and gently withdrawing, as tender now as he’d been fierce a moment before.

  “Rest, sweetheart. I’ll order some food and hot water.”

  He lifted away from her, leaving her momentarily bereft, before she slid into deep slumber. Before she went completely under, he murmured, “Dream of me.”

  She’d certainly do that.

  * * * *

  He woke her with a gentle kiss and a touch on her shoulder. Smiling, she looked up at his relaxed face, and he smiled back.

  “They’ve brought us breakfast in the next room,” he said, referring to the private drawing room attached to the suite. Her boudoir.

  She sat up, not bothering to draw the sheet around her. It was a bright spring day, and her husband had seen everything she had to offer. Besides, she wanted to see that glow in his eyes. He didn’t disappoint her. The golden glow returned when he perused her naked body.

  He cupped her breast, testing its weight. “You shouldn’t tempt me,” he said. “You need sustenance. Besides I wanted to tell you something. Lansbury is back from his travels. It seems someone sent for him when we arrived, but he was on the Nottinghamshire estate and it’s taken him this long to get back.” His mouth firmed. “As if we were transgressing on his property. I’m keen to start the work as soon as we can, so I’d like to interview him. But it was your idea, so would you prefer to be present?”

  Out of all the husbands she could have chosen, this was the one for her. He wanted her to be with him? Some men would have taken the suggestion she made as their own and taken all the credit for it as well as the responsibility. John would have. Even in the highest throes of her madness for him, she knew that.

  The thought of John sent a chill racing through her, and she suppressed a shiver. She would tell him, and if they were dressed, her task would be easier. Naked, she was completely open with him, as he’d encouraged. She couldn’t bear it if he took her news badly while they were in that state that had brought such pleasure to them both. He might spurn her. Better done when they were armored, albeit with every day clothes.

  “I’d like to, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll tell him we’ll see him in an hour.” He glanced at her and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Two. I know women prefer to take their time dressing. Would you like a bath? I can order one for after breakfast.”

  A bath would take far too long and would disrupt the house while it heated the water. But she didn’t care. “I’d love a bath.”

  “I’ll give the orders. Now come and have your breakfast before it gets cold.”

  Before she could leave the bed, he dragged her close and kissed her again. “Don’t think I won’t have you back here as soon as I can. Or yours, it makes no difference. Or the library, or maybe we should try the state bed downstairs.”

  Her laugh rang around the room. “And then we can receive all the honored guests there, remembering what we did.”

  He snorted. “I don’t think the bed even has sheets on it, but it could be interesting. Imagine the maids walking in on us. There is usually someone there, dusting or cleaning or suchlike. They’d just have to work around us, wouldn’t they?” His smile broke out again. “I rather like the idea of that.”

  Taking a deep breath, he drew away and climbed down from the bed. He picked her robe off the floor and offered it to her. “But you have to come here to claim it.”

  His wicked grin told her what he wanted her to do. He was daring her. Although she’d become much less shy with him over the last few days, she still balked at the idea of walking around naked. Her modest upbringing went deep. But she put on a sultry smile, recalled the last experience they’d shared in this room, and flung the sheets aside with a flourish. Glancing up at him, she found the footstool and climbed down. Then she sauntered toward him. His eyes darkened, and she presented her back so he could help her into her robe. When he did so, he tightened his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder and, when she turned her head, her mouth.

  “You’re deeply tempting,” he murmured against her lips. “We should tell Lansbury to wait.”

  “No we should not. Let him make a start with the inventory, and then we can come back to bed.”

  He smiled. “So practical. That gives us extra impetus. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can come back here.”

  Only when she left the room with him did she realize that not one twinge of fear had accompanied her actions in the last three days. Finally, Max had achieved what she’d tried so hard to do—to dissipate the fear that John had engendered in her. No longer did she flinch when a man touched her intimately, not even in an automatic reaction.

  John’s attack had frightened her more than she cared to admit. She’d had to force herself forward, force herself to accept the hand of the man she wanted, to lie down for him, and to take him into her body. In fact, she couldn’t wait until they’d finished with the steward and could get back to their own devices.

  After a full breakfast that Sophia felt she deserved, she went to her room where French waited for her with a suitable day gown. Green, a pretty pea-green, not at all like the emerald of her husband’s eyes. She felt strange, dressing for the first time in days, even in something this simple. French didn’t comment, but her thin lips pursed.

  When Sophia went through to the drawing room to meet her husband, his appearance almost undid her. Although dressed in country clothes, he appeared more like a man she had met in the city than the man she had spent the last three days with. What a difference clothes made to a person.

  However, when she took his hand, he felt the same. She smiled at him and received his warm smile in return. He took her to the small office on the ground floor of the building.

  There, Lansbury the steward waited for them. He was dressed in neat, practical clothing. A pair of gold framed spectacles adorned his face, behind which a pair of blue eyes sparkled. Sophia held her judgment in reserve. She was far too suspicious, from her Dealings in the city.

  The man bowed low. “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to this house, my lady,” he said, with all the unctuousness a marchioness could wish for.

  Sophia certainly didn’t appreciate
that, but perhaps the last marchioness preferred it. He would have to work out how to deal with her. However he might have done his research. The news of her marriage was public knowledge after all and not difficult to research, even on the road.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Lansbury.”

  He glanced to Max, who indicated the rent table. The piece of furniture dominated the room, a large round table with small drawers set around it. She bent to study one of the labels pasted there. “A to D,” it said.

  “Tenants,” Max explained. “When they come to pay the rent on quarter day, their records are kept in these drawers.”

  “How many tenants do you have?”

  “We,” he corrected gently and glanced at Lansbury.

  “At the last count, my lady, two hundred and sixty three on this estate.”

  “A good number.” It seemed a reasonable number for the main property. Not just farmers, but perhaps villagers, too.

  “A trifle low, if anything,” Max said. “But we have other concerns.”

  He touched her elbow, and she forced herself not to sink back into his arms. This touching was exquisite torment in the early days of their relationship when they needed to learn each other. They’d risen too soon, but they had their duties, the reason for their marriage. She could never ignore those.

  They all took a seat at the table, Max and Sophia remaining close.

  She watched Lansbury closely when Max explained their plans. At the first mention of the word “demolition,” the poor wretch closed his eyes and shuddered. Interesting that he didn’t try to hide his reaction from the man who had jurisdiction over him.

  Max had informed her that Lansbury had inherited this position from his father, who’d held it before him. That happened not infrequently, and perhaps he was as dynastically minded as Max’s family. Even in her natural home, the City of London, families hoarded rights and privileges jealously to pass down to their descendants. So why not a land steward, an important position in any great family? He would have his own assistants and discuss possibilities with his master, instead of simply taking orders.

  Lansbury’s mouth twitched as if he were in pain at a couple of points, and half way through, he opened his eyes and fixed Max with a hard stare. The twinkle had gone.

  When Max finished, Lansbury paused, and then said, in a perfectly modulated voice, “Do you think that’s wise, my lord?”

  “Yes.” Typical of Max to answer the question and no more.

  “Who gave you this idea, pray?”

  By the way he carefully avoided looking at her, Sophia knew what he was thinking. And he’d be right. The notion had come from her.

  Max glanced at her, smiling fondly. “My wife merely began the idea. It is what I want, what I’ve always wanted.” He lost the smile when he returned his attention to his steward. “See to it, please. I want an inventory drawn up as quickly as possible, and the plans pushed forward by the end of next month. By then, we’ll have a schedule for the work. By the end of the year, the project should be well underway.” He gave Lansbury a hard stare. “No procrastination. If anyone demonstrates that, get rid of him and find someone who will do the work.” His intentions were perfectly clear. If Lansbury didn’t want to do it, he would find someone who would.

  Lansbury’s prominent Adam’s apple moved in his throat as he swallowed. “Yes, my lord. I cannot help thinking that we should let the notion mature for a while.” Then he glanced at Sophia, but only briefly. He flicked his attention back to Max as if she meant nothing at all. “You have plenty of concerns.”

  Sophia considered his suggestion and read what he was saying underneath the words. “I’m sure we’ll cope.”

  “I was thinking we could use Denton while the work here progresses,” Max said, naming another of his estates. “Or just stay in London.”

  So he’d thought of it, too. If she fell pregnant, it wouldn’t be wise for her to be around a large demolition project. He had a house picked out for her. But if she agreed to that, she might well be left out of future plans.

  “Is Denton nearby?”

  “Tolerably,” Max said. “It’s not a large or showy place, but it’s comfortable and ample.”

  That sounded like a house she’d like, but Sophia knew where her duties lay. She had to be a marchioness, not a country lady. Which meant this house. Without the wings, it would still be much larger than anything else she’d known.

  But she’d fight that battle when it arrived.

  “Have the inventory ready by the end of next week,” Max said calmly.

  When Lansbury gasped and began to protest, Max interrupted him. “There is such an inventory. It merely needs bringing up to date. Checking. Ensure everything is listed in room order and in order of contents, please.”

  “My lord, you have lived in London for a long time. You have rarely visited this place. It would help if you allowed yourself some time to accustom yourself to the plan.”

  Max leaned an elbow on the table and smiled beatifically. Sophia had seen him do that, when he’d just struck a deal that he wanted. She wouldn’t trust that expression if she were Lansbury.

  “One of the reasons I live in London is because I can’t afford this house. Or I couldn’t when I started to recover the money my father frittered on this place. I have no intention of passing this burden on to my own children, so now is the time to do it. When Sophia suggested it, I realized it was exactly what I wanted. So do not try to make me accept the house as it is.”

  “My lord, I drew up plans for the completion of the unfinished rooms in the east wing.”

  “Very diligent of you, Lansbury. File them away. We won’t need them now.”

  Sophia would have felt sorry for the steward, but for the fulminating glance he threw Max’s way when he thought his master wasn’t looking. She guessed what Lansbury planned. He would contact the dowager, and then war would be declared. She could foresee unpleasant times ahead, but as long as she and Max remained determined, then they would see it through.

  Sunshine streamed through the window onto the rent table, illuminating the conversation between the men. So polite, with so many tense undertones.

  With no more to be said, Max courteously helped Sophia to her feet, and they left the office to the man who would reluctantly supervise the project.

  “Perhaps you should employ someone solely to oversee the work,” she said.

  Max snorted. “And antagonize him further? I think not. He must do it or resign. There is no shortage of good land stewards. If the work doesn’t suit him, he can find another place. Which he will do without much difficulty, as he has a good record.”

  Heedless of who might see them, he spun her toward him and kissed her. “With you, I can see this through. When you said it, I realized it was exactly what I wanted. And I won’t allow you to shoulder the blame, either. It is our idea and our project. Part way through, we’ll mention that we’ll need the grounds re-done and let him look around for a good designer. Perhaps restore the park to the way it was, or instigate something new.”

  “Won’t that be expensive?”

  He kissed her again. “But less than the building. More to my taste, too. I’d prefer to look out of my window and see acres of green lawns and flower gardens. Perhaps a fountain or two.”

  His heated smile melted her.

  “But for now, I think we’ve done all we can. What would you like to do? By the way, that gown…very becoming.”

  He wouldn’t have noticed it a short time ago. Now she could return his smile with interest and move closer, teasing him with glimpses of her cleavage. “We never finished that tour.”

  “So we didn’t.” He grimaced, and then brightened. “If we do that, we could work up an appetite for all kinds of things. What do you think?”

  “And the bride visits?” She added an innocent smile. “Your neighbors will expect a dinner, won’t they? Once they hear you’re in residence, they’ll wan
t to visit us.”

  “How will I bear it?” His voice softened, grew more intimate. “I will sit next to you and whisper naughty things in your ear while they think I’m asking you if you want more tea. How much will you bear of that before you make your excuses?”

  The thought heated her blood. The nature of the wickedness appealed to her far beyond anything she thought possible, especially with him.

  He moved away and offered the support of his arm. “Are you ready for your tour, my lady?”

  Now wishing she’d never mentioned it, but also anticipating the tour with more than an expectation of seeing more rooms, she laid her hand on his arm. They went upstairs.

  The butler met them in the main hall. “My lord, you have a visitor.”

  Max exchanged a smiling glance with Sophia. “Bride visits?”

  “No, my lord, although several people have called since you arrived. I gave them the information that your lordship was unavailable.” He coughed behind his hand. “This visitor has arrived from London, or so he tells me, and he is most insistent that he sees you. Lord Winterton, my lord. He has been here but an hour.”

  This time Max’s glance showed alarm. “Julius? He wouldn’t have disturbed us unless he considered it necessary. What on earth could it be?”

  “Was it just his lordship Lord Winterton wanted to see?”

  Max clamped his arm to his side, trapping her hand. “Whoever he asked for, he’s getting both of us. I wonder why he didn’t send a message?”

  The news worried her, but it might be nothing. “He could have business in the area.”

  Max’s arm relaxed. “You could have the right of it. He does have a small property not far distant. Let’s find out.”

  The butler had left Julius to wait in the Blue Parlor and sent to the kitchens for refreshments. So when they entered the room, a maid carrying a tray of small delicacies accompanied them.

  Max pulled her back, spun her into his arms, and delivered a quick but passionate kiss. “Since I will have to wait, I need sustenance until I can get you back into bed.”

  They made their way into the room when Julius waited for them.