Ravishing in Red

by Madeline Hunter

  It crashed and roared and howled incoherently. Eventually it lessened to a steady rain. And in that less obscuring downpour, he knew that this was not simple jealousy turning him mad. This particular insanity had been building since the day Morgan bought that damned commission.

  The dark rain demanded truth. It cleansed reality without compromise. His anger would not allow him to put a pretty face on anything right now.

  Morgan had been a fool to buy that commission. An idiot. He was no soldier, he had no experience. The army gave no training to him either, but put him in charge of men’s lives as if a title conveyed war skills along with property. It was a mercy that more lords and gentlemen had not chosen to make such noble, dramatic sacrifices.

  How many had died because of him? Was that the real reason for his interest in the ordnance scandal? Had his own mistakes caused deaths that would never be avenged, so he wanted these other mistakes avenged instead?

  And now, Audrianna loved him. Their bond had been palpable in that library. She huddled at his feet, weeping, accepting his comfort. Depending on his affection. She had brought her unhappiness to her dear friend because she had known she would find sympathy and warmth there. She laughed and joked and cried with Morgan, while she still curtsied to her husband.

  He could not believe what seeing them did to him. Raw anger kept carving him into pieces. Guilt followed, sickening him. Guilt that he had not thrashed Morgan senseless the first time he spoke of a commission. Guilt that he lived his brother’s life. Guilt for begrudging Morgan Audrianna’s affection within that diminished existence to which he was condemned.

  He normally accommodated the guilt. Right now he hated it, and hated everything attached to it. The obligations. The expectations. The forced discretions. The lost friendships and the tedious compromises.

  But he hated even more realizing that he and his brother were sharing Audrianna as they did too much else. While she dutifully gave her husband her body, she had freely given Morgan a part of her heart.

  Mostly, however, he hated admitting how much that mattered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “It sounds as if Lady Ferris was correct about your friend,” Wittonbury said gently. “I believe you think that she was.”

  Audrianna wiped her eyes. “I believe no such thing. I will write to Celia and ask. When she denies it, I will make Lady Ferris eat the letter.”

  “What if she does not deny it?”

  She knew where he was leading her. She needed no map.

  “You will have other friends, Audrianna. Before the season is a month old, there will be sympathetic young matrons who will seek you out.”

  She leaned against the side of his chair, not moving from the spot where she had hidden when her composure broke on entering this library. She had not wanted him to see her tears, and now she did not want him to see her rebellious reaction to what he insinuated.

  The blanket draped beside her face moved and subtly brushed her cheek. That drew her out of her reverie. She rose to her knees, then stood.

  “Thank you, for letting me hide, and for the sympathetic ear. I am sorry that I wept. I hope that I did not—”

  The blanket draped beside her face moved.

  The significance of that suddenly penetrated her self-absorption. She stared at that blanket and the invisible legs that it covered. His arms remained on the chair’s own. He had not tugged or touched that blanket, she was sure.

  “Is there a ghost beneath my chair?” the marquess asked. “You are as shocked as if you saw one.”

  She composed herself. “A thought came to me that took me unawares. I will leave you now. I have imposed on your kindness too long.”

  “I fear that I did not give you as much sympathy as you hoped for.”

  “Your advice was honest and fair, and your compassion sincere. I am more grateful than you can know.”

  She closed the library door when she left. Then she went looking for Dr. Fenwood. She found him in the dressing room, storing linens.

  “Madam. Is something amiss with my lord?”

  “I just left him and he is well. I want to ask you about something. Can the marquess move his legs at all?”

  Dr. Fenwood’s expression turned sad. He shook his head.

  “Not the slightest amount?”

  “The injury was to his spine. He has no feeling below the waist. None at all.”

  “Is there any chance of recovery?”

  “Not without a miracle. There was one physician, a German, who said that with time . . . He claimed to have seen cases where the body healed itself after some years. The doctor’s reputation turned out to be questionable at best upon investigation. No, Madam, I fear that my lord will remain as you see him.”

  Audrianna left Dr. Fenwood. She would not raise false hopes on such little evidence as a sensation against her cheek. Perhaps she had imagined that blanket moving. Maybe she had done something to cause it to move.

  And yet, what if the leg beneath it had actually stirred?

  Sebastian did not arrive back to Park Lane until long past midnight. The ride to Greenwich had gone far to relieve his agitation, and for a few hours, while gazing into the heavens through the observatory’s telescopes, he had forgotten the fury gripping him. The tempest had not entirely calmed by the time he entered his chambers, but he no longer wanted to put his fist through a wall.

  He prepared for the night. He threw on his robe and dismissed his valet. He looked at Audrianna’s door.

  She was undoubtedly asleep, but being so damned dutiful, she would not complain if he woke her. And if she minded, she could always go cry to his brother tomorrow. He wanted to go in there and take her five different ways, to claim what was definitely his so he would not mind what most certainly was not.

  The dark urge alone told him he should not go in at all. Hawkeswell was not here to stop him from being an ass, so he would have to thwart the inclination all by himself.

  He threw himself on his bed and turned his mind to his interview with Anderson. He debated what to do with the information he had received. He needed to pursue a new direction, but carefully. He did not want to impugn good men who might be in the way, or raise the hackles of the Board of Ordnance.

  He was just seeing a strategy when the door to his dressing room opened. Audrianna looked in, much as she had when she wore that red dress.

  This was definitely not the night to think about that dress.

  “Do you mind if I come in? I know it is very late.”

  So much for noble intentions. She had no idea that she played with fire. He should send her away at once.

  “Of course you can come in. You are always welcome here.”

  She padded across the chamber, her little slippers poking out beneath her white nightdress with each step. Nellie had brushed her hair into a dark fall of silk. Erotic images assaulted him the closer she came.

  She appeared joyful when she climbed onto the bed. Excited to see him. That charmed him. If she offered him a kiss on her own again, perhaps he would only take her two different ways. Hell, he’d probably recite a maudlin poem while he did it.

  “I have been waiting for you to return. I heard you in the dressing room, and when you did not come in, I realized that with the late hour you would not.” She smiled. “That was very considerate of you.”

  “You must remember to tell me that tomorrow. How considerate I am.”

  Her brow puckered.

  “Never mind. It is late and I am not in my senses. I am glad that you came to me since I did not come to you.”

  “I had to. I need to talk to you about something very important.”

  She had not come for pleasure, or even company. She wanted something. Three ways, then. Half his mind began sorting through every sexual position he had ever tried, like a connoisseur choosing among rare wines.

  “It has to do with your brother.”

  Back to five. At least.

  “Do tell.” He would definitely taste her. He
had been dying to since that night at the Two Swords. If he had made a bargain to possess a woman’s body and nothing more, he might as well possess her fully and stop worrying overmuch about her delicate sensibilities.

  “The most extraordinary thing happened this afternoon.”

  Her eyes sparkled with excitement. He would arrange it so those eyes watched him take her one of the times.

  “One of his legs moved. I am almost positive.”

  A curtain instantly came down on images of her ecstasy.

  She had just said something so preposterous that he had no response other than laughter, and that would not do.

  “I was with him, sitting next to him, and that blanket moved. A small move, very small, but I have turned it over in my head a thousand times since and I am sure it moved.”

  “You said that you were almost positive before. Now you are sure. Which is it?”

  “Are you angry?”

  “I am not angry. But if you are wrong and I pursue it, he will be horribly disappointed. It will send him into a melancholy from which he might never emerge.”

  She nodded, and turned thoughtful. “I am not almost positive. I am sure.”

  He just looked at her. If she was sure, she was sure. She was not a woman to have flights of fancy.

  He got out of bed and went to a window and threw up the sash. The night air was chilled but he did not care. He looked out at nothing while the cold cleared his head.

  “There was a doctor, a German, who said there was hope. He advised certain exercises. My brother could not bear it and stopped soon enough.”

  “I know. Dr. Fenwood told me.”

  He looked back at her. “Did you tell him about this?”

  “I only asked if the damage was total and permanent. No one had ever explained before, so I thought perhaps some small movement has always been there.”

  He turned his attention to the night again. “I do not know what to do with this. He is so . . . fragile. His health, his spirit . . .”

  “If there is a chance, surely he will want to try and see if he can be whole again.”

  “One would think so, but I am not so sure.” He faced her. “I will speak with him. I must find a good time, when I think he will listen reasonably. Do not tell anyone else about this. Especially do not mention it to our mother.”

  She nodded. She gathered up her billows of white and began climbing off the bed.

  “Where do you think you are going, Audrianna?”

  She halted in mid motion. “To my chamber. To sleep.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She settled back down. That white froth enclosed her and her hair tumbled around her. Only remnants remained of the storm now, but her silent anticipation drenched the air and his body responded forcefully.

  He burned. Not in angry possessiveness now, but with flames that aroused more than his body. He still wanted to take the parts of her that were his right, but this conversation had at least dulled the darkest edges of his desire.

  All the same, he was not feeling much like a gentleman tonight.

  He just looked at her, with his thoughts deepening the depths of his eyes. Time slowed, its pulse throbbing between them and also inside her. Little beats of rising expectation teased her.

  Perhaps he wanted to devastate her with his mere presence. He could still do that. It was getting worse, not better. Or maybe he debated whether pleasure with her was worth the time now. The night had grown old, and the hour was closer to dawn than twilight.

  “It is very late,” she said, when the anticipation had made her taut. “Perhaps tomorrow—”

  “No. You came to me. You do not get to leave yet.”

  “I did not come for this. You are under no obligation. If you are tired, or . . .”

  “Or what?”

  “Sated.”

  She had accepted where he most likely was when her watch passed two o’clock. Stupidly enough, it had come as a shock to her, that sudden explanation. The whole world had warned her. She had accepted the inevitable, and yet when it happened she was surprised and . . . hurt. Terribly hurt. For a long, horrible moment the weight in her heart had been too heavy to bear.

  She expected her allusion to it to amuse him. Or anger him. Instead perhaps it surprised him. He looked at her much as he had when she announced his brother’s leg had moved.

  He turned thoughtful and dark. Brooding. His gaze sharpened just enough to send a thrill down her core.

  “Is that what you think? You can be an innocent sometimes, Audrianna. I am not convincing myself to want you, out of obligation. I am restraining myself from stripping you and taking you without ceremony, or—”

  That “or” hung there, like a dangerous taunt. She recognized the tension in him, visible now in his body and face. He was right. She could be an innocent sometimes. Tonight he found that inconvenient. Still, he had not sought out someone less innocent instead.

  She plucked at the bow of her nightdress. “I do not mean to deny you the stripping part, but I would rather this not get torn.” She let the fabric slide down her shoulders, and slid her arms from the sleeves. It puddled around her hips.

  Whatever debate he had been holding ended then. He gazed awhile longer, enough to leave her flushed and titillated. Then he walked to the bed. He did not get on it, but stood tall beside it, the dark silk of his robe in front of her face. His hand reached and lightly stroked one nipple.

  That was enough to make all the tantalizing sensations collect into a focused hunger. It was wanton, really, how easily she succumbed now.

  “Look at me.”

  She gazed up while that light caress teased her mercilessly. Her body savored the pleasure trickling down.

  “Touch me.”

  She reached for the dark silk. She ran her palms over it, following his chest from shoulders to waist, feeling the edges and swells of his torso. Still he maddened her. Both hands touched her now. Wicked fingers did their worst until her own touch needed more. She slid her hands beneath the silk and caressed him more surely, relishing the skin beneath her fingers.

  “Kiss me.”

  They were not requests or little instructions. He spoke commands that he expected her to obey.

  His face and mouth were too high. He did not bend to her. She realized he did not mean his mouth at all. She leaned forward, until her lips touched the warmth of his torso. She flicked her tongue, to taste. A new pleasure flowed, warm and dark, like a deep current beneath the others.

  Fascination now, with the feel of him. With the soft velvet surface of his skin and the hard form it covered. She drew her legs beneath her and kneeled so she could caress more freely. She traced muscles and arms and shoulders with her hands and mouth.

  She pushed the robe off his shoulders so she could feel more of him. It fell to the floor and he stood there, more naked than she had ever seen, his strength and male beauty and arousal fully visible to her.

  She extended her arms and caressed up the length of him while she looked. Her gaze reached the beauty of his face, harsh now from passion’s tension.

  “Touch me.” His gaze penetrated her. Knowing. Demanding. She could not pretend that she did not understand what he meant. She looked down and tentatively laid her fingertips on the tip of his phallus. It hardened even more. His whole body did.

  Breathless from both arousal and her own audacity, she slid her fingers up and down its length.

  He pushed her shoulders and she fell back on the bed. He joined her, bracing himself over her while his head dipped to kiss her deeply, then use his mouth on her breasts.

  She clutched his shoulder with one arm and continued stroking him with the other. The pleasure and intimacy were heavenly, and she fought not to lose herself and her awareness of it.

  He looked down at what she was doing to him, then in her eyes. “That day in the garden, when I gave you the necklace.”

  “Yes?”

  “What did you think would have happened if I did not stop?�
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  Her mind went back to her surprise that day. To the way he kissed her leg, then her thigh.

  “What did you want to have happen?” he asked.

  She had wanted nothing. Not really. But her scandalous woman’s body had anticipated something very wicked, and too shocking to say.

  He saw it in her eyes. She could tell he did. He kissed her cheek, then her breast. His body lowered. Her breath shortened with each second. Her physical reaction stunned her. The sensations of the night lowered too, and pooled into a vital and erotic sensitivity.

  When he spread her legs, she closed her eyes, to hide from him and herself. She instinctively moved her hand in a gesture of modesty.

  He kissed her thigh. “You will not stop me. You are mine. All of you.”

  He lured her with kisses that softened his command. Devastating touches ensured she would not stop him and prepared her for the rest. When it came, she no longer was shocked, no longer wanted to retreat.

  She abandoned herself to a forceful, inconceivable pleasure that had her helpless, and crying out her madness until a glorious release obliterated all her other senses.

  Then he was with her, in her, in a furious, feral joining that kept the pleasure trembling through her in a long, beautiful echo.

  Dawn broke with Audrianna still in his arms. He still lay entwined with her, where he had fallen after that climax ripped through him.

  He eased himself off her as carefully as he could. It still woke her. She turned on her side and opened her eyes. A deep acknowledgment showed in the glance she gave him, and also a touch of confusion and embarrassment.

  Her awkwardness passed soon enough. Nakedness breeds familiarity, and she found the accommodation of both that had marked their marriage from the first afternoon.

  They would go their own ways soon. He to his day’s plans and she to hers. Right now, however, he put that off and drifted in the stillness of early morning.

  “The season will start soon, and we will both be busy day and night. Before it gets under way, I want to bring you to the family’s seat, and introduce you to the people there. They will expect me to.”