“And Sally has it unpacked, but sir…”
Martin’s hesitant manner drew Court’s attention from Randi. “What is it?”
“Sally didn’t find any suitable clothing for dinner. In fact, she said…” Martin tried to school his face into perfect blandness, but his flush ruined it.
“Spit it out, man.”
“Ahem. Well, sir, it seems Ms. Ferguson packed a couple of wrapped packages and mostly lingerie. A pair of jeans and a sweater. Lightweight sandals. Nothing at all appropriate for dinner, much less an English winter.”
Biting his lip only worked for a second. “I see.” Only lingerie? The prospect nearly made him dizzy before reality set in. “I doubt Liza has anything that will fit Randi. I hate to ask, but are there any pieces of Beatrice’s clothes stuck in a closet somewhere?”
“No sir. As you requested, every scrap was donated to charity. However, I did take the liberty of calling to the boutique in the village. Ms. Sanders is running a few outfits over. I was able to get Ms. Ferguson’s sizes from what she did pack. I told the shop to send you the bill and tack on ten percent for the extra service.”
Just like Martin to be cheeky. As long as Randi had clothes, Court didn’t care about the cost. “Excellent. The moment they arrive, send them up to my dressing room.”
“Yes sir. Once this holiday is over, we need to have a quiet word.”
“I know I’m running you through the wringer. Can’t be helped.” Court clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll get through this, and then I owe you a long, exotic vacation.”
“Mustique?” His man rapidly blinked his eyes in surprise. “All expenses paid?”
“Absolutely. Right after the New Year. How does that sound?”
“After the wedding? Can’t possibly leave before then.”
“Ahead of me as usual.” Court squeezed Martin’s shoulder, then released him. “How could we manage such an event without you?” Indeed, Martin would be mortally offended to not direct the entire affair. “However, we have the here and now. Once the clothes are sorted, check on Attenborough would you? I’m sending Albert and Liza his direction. Five minutes, Martin, and send a maid up with the pot of tea, as we discussed.”
“On my way.” The butler’s mood deflated slightly, and he sighed but headed for the door. Martin’s sigh reminded Court of Eeyore, but Court also knew the man did it mostly for show and would come through. He couldn’t stand anything less than perfection.
Convincing Randi to retire took little effort. Getting his sister and her husband to let her go was the greater issue. Finally, he led her up the stairs. “I promise there’s a fresh pot of tea waiting. Guaranteed to refresh you long enough to make it through Christmas dinner.”
“I certainly hope so. Sure there isn’t time for a cat nap?”
“There’s just enough for a bit of tea, a somewhat unhurried shower, and time to dress.” He threw open the door and swept her up into his arms.
“Court!” she exclaimed, and linked her arms around his neck before gathering her wits enough to ask, “Dress?”
Once inside, he shut the door with his shoulder while she looked around.
“This is your room?” She stiffened.
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I had your things brought here. We’re a bit full. Hard to imagine with as many bedrooms as we have.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I’m not sure I approve. Rather presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”
Sensing a rising temper, Court bent his head to kiss her. He didn’t start bold and brash in a way she’d certainly reject, but soft. Tender. Slow. Taking her little by little, doing his best to clear her mind of anything but loving him.
The main problem with his plan was he fell victim to the kiss as much as she did. Wanting to take her right there, he forced himself to ease away and head across the room. Randi’s head dropped back as she too fought for air.
“What was I thinking of before? There was something…” she gasped.
“Dressing.” Thankfully, she melted against him again. “If you’re worried about clothes, Martin was able to dig up one or two items which might work. I hope you’ll forgive us, but the maid who unpacked your luggage said you didn’t have much besides lingerie. While I certainly wouldn’t mind if you ate dinner in a silky negligee, I’d hardly let you do it with my family. I’d rather save that for dinner alone. Just the two of us.”
“Oh.” She stared up at him, green eyes wide and void of guile, so dreamy he could almost see starlight in them. Even her small frown was adorable. “Clothes? You mean, I didn’t pack one dress?”
She really was in a fog. How could a woman not know what she’d packed? “Apparently not. I haven’t seen the contents of your suitcase yet. Or were you going for the Madonna look again?”
“Your employees are discussing my wardrobe?” Her jaw dropped open as if the very idea was horrendous.
“It’s all right, darling. They’re paid to be discreet. Servants who publicly air family secrets find themselves unemployed.” Although they would talk amongst themselves. “Eventually, you’ll get used to being taken care of, by both me and the staff. Just remember we have your comfort and best interests at heart. Lord knows they’ve saved me from more than a few faux pas that could have embarrassed the family greatly.”
He set her down beside the fireplace. Tea waited on a table next to a reading chair, but he didn’t let her sit just yet, because he had the urge to kiss her again. He told himself he did it to get her mind off insignificant details. Since that worked so well, and she didn’t seem motivated to undress herself, he started doing it for her.
In just a few moments, he had her layered tops off, leaving only her bra. A festive confection of red lace and green satin. If the rest of her lingerie was along these lines, the servants would be talking for years to come. She didn’t protest when he unsnapped her jeans and pushed them far too easily over her hips, though he did close his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks. The panties matched the bra. Jeans at half mast, he gently pushed her into the chair and knelt to tug off her low-heeled leather ankle boots. It only took a moment to pull off pants and socks, which he tossed aside. That finished, he drew up an ottoman and inserted his knees between hers. Something about the action woke her up, and he had to act fast to keep her off balance for just a little longer. A point to remember, jet lag aided in making her compliant.
“Come here, darling.” Gently tugging on her legs, he pulled her close enough she all but straddled his lap. Only the strongest of will power kept him from slipping his fingers beneath the thin panel covering her. With one deep inhale, he drew in her scent overlaid with the warming aroma of her arousal.
“Court, what are you doing?” She braced her hands on his chest.
Willpower, he reminded himself.
“There’s something I want to share with you while we have a moment of quiet. It has the side benefit of helping you wake up just a little bit.”
“You won’t let up until you get your way, will you?” Randi leaned forward so her head rested on his shoulder, turned so she could watch him pour. “Not that I could ever resist you for long.” Her sigh and all that lovely skin of hers made it hard to concentrate on the job before him.
“Not a chance, so you might as well go along.”
“Pretty pot. Yixing Sky Dragon.”
“Very good. I knew you were an expert at tea ware. Now pay attention. This tea is very special. Ever hear of Tieguanyin?” He lifted the small pot and poured enough to fill one tiny cup half way.
“Arguably the most expensive tea in the world. Named for the Buddhist deity Guan Yin also known as the Iron Goddess of Mercy. The package I left for you in New York. Reportedly the same blend used by the Chinese White House.”
“Can’t sneak anything past you. So you know how special this tea is. Mostly because you bought it for me, but also for its rarity. This is the first time I’ve brewed this particular blend of it.”
“I’ve only had a taste. Merely a sample in New York.” Randi sat up, leaving only enough room between them for the cup he now held.
“Our own little tea ceremony.” Catching her gaze, he drew in a deep breath. The moment was now. She had to know this was special. Real. Forever. “Randi Jean Dailey Ferguson, I welcome you to my home. What’s mine is yours. Everything. My resources, my strength, me, all of which pale in comparison to the love for you in my heart.”
That tender organ pounding so hard for a moment he feared it’d jump from his chest and land in her lap, he held the small cup to her lips. A hint of moisture made her eyes look like deep mossy pools. Or was the moisture in his? Eyes staring into eyes, green into blue, the catch in her breath, the fluttering beat at the base of her throat matched his, and her trembling as she placed her hands lightly over his and carefully sipped from the cup echoed in his soul.
“Courtland Bailey Robinson, I accept your hospitality, even forgive you for assuming I’d share your bed, and offer my desire to share all that is mine with you.” She gave him a tiny, wavering smile. “Most of all, I offer to you me, my heart, all my love, and every single one of my remaining days and nights.”
An indescribable warmth filled him, rendering words unnecessary, nay, impossible for several heartbeats. They stared into each other’s eyes, their hands connected where they wrapped around the tiny tea cup between them.
It was perfect. As perfect as each time they made love.
After a long, deep inhale, he too sipped, never once breaking eye contact. Rough though it was, he found his voice. “All that I am, body, heart, and soul, I give to you.”
Randi’s breath hitched again, her mouth parted, then closed. He’d rendered her speechless, and he smiled, feeling extremely satisfied. Holding onto the minimal excuse of a ceremony, he offered her another taste of the cup. She sipped and guided the cup back to his lips. As he drained it, the tip of her tongue slipped out just enough to capture a lone drop on her lip.
To hell with the ceremony. He thrust the clay vessel toward the table with one hand and hoped it landed right, because his other hand pulled her the last few inches right up onto his lap. Like the brilliant woman she was, she read his mind, or had the exact same thought, because her hands cupped his face, and she wrapped her legs around his body as their mouths met already open and hungering.
She loved him.
The exotic tea tasted exquisite on her tongue, and he drank from her mouth, taking in her hunger, desire, need for him.
Yes! Thank you, God! His heart sang, joining the mighty chorus reverberating in his head. Randi, in his arms, her love surrounding him, filling him… The years rolled back, and all that had been dusty, gray, and cold in his world burst into exotic color, light, and soul enriching heat. Jean, his Jeannie, was back, this time to stay, because now she’d confessed; nothing would keep them apart ever again. She’d even promised. He had her, and he wasn’t letting go. Not for anything.
Not even the damn carriage clock, which chimed the first quarter hour from the mantel, could pry them more than a few inches apart.
Regretfully, Court eased the kiss into tender nibbles. “As much as I want to make love to your beautiful body, we have guests arriving in approximately one hour. One more cup of tea, and then it’s off to the showers for you. I’ll even help.”
“You’ll help me how?” The kisses she placed near his mouth and along his jaw were sweet temptations he steeled himself to resist. It took a strong man to hold out against such a sweet assault.
He ignored the question while refilling the cup. “What do you think of this tea?”
“You want to talk about tea now?” The soft seduction of her breath in his ear, lips on his earlobe, just about destroyed his plans.
“It’s that or we skip Christmas and go straight to making love for three days.” He offered the cup to her.
“You’d forget about Christmas for me?” she whispered, as she took the cup, irreverently drained it in one gulp, and set it on the tray.
He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer yet, snuggling her right up against his straining cock. “Yes, I would. But don’t spoil my fun. I have plans, darling.”
“Well then, I’m all yours.”
He bent his neck and placed a kiss on the swell of her breast. “I’m absolutely mad for you, Jeannie-mine. But”—he surged to his feet with her legs tightening around his waist, arms about his neck, her lovely bum in his hands—“we don’t have time for slacking off. If it weren’t Christmas with guests, we’d hole up here and eat off each other.” Ah there was the sweet flush he loved.
Bless her little soul, she tightened her grip around his neck, and pulled his head down to hers. “Kiss me, Court. Kiss me thoroughly, then make love to me in the shower.”
“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”
* * * *
Randi clung to him, arms wrapped around Court’s neck. His hands cupped her bottom and lifted her higher. “Kiss me,” she heard herself begging. Fortunately, he complied, and by the time she somewhat regained her senses, he had her pinned against a tile wall with steam billowing around them.
“Didn’t we forget something?”
Court grinned, looking entirely pleased and a touch smug, the smile guaranteed to capture her completely. “I think we might want to lose the clothes.”
She laughed. Still in her Christmas underwear, she was silly enough as it was, but he was fully dressed, still wearing his shoes. Together they pulled off the wet clothes and left them in a heap in the corner of the huge shower.
“How old is this house?” she asked.
“At least three centuries,” he answered, reaching for a bottle on a built-in shelf.
“I didn’t know they made bathrooms like this back then.”
“They didn’t. This was once a dressing room. The dressing room was once a bedroom. This is why I can never remember how many bedrooms we currently have.” Shampoo flowed into his hand. “Get your hair wet. You get the full treatment tonight. Tomorrow you get to take care of me.” He nibbled on her earlobe, then worked the foaming liquid into her hair, his fingers strong yet gentle as they massaged her scalp. A refreshing lemony fragrance mixed with the rising steam.
“Keep moaning like that, and I won’t finish washing you before pouncing.”
“Promises.” She wrapped her hands around his waist, loving the feel of his skin, and pulled him closer. Soap slipped down between them, creating slick friction where they touched from chest to belly to thigh. She particularly loved the feeling of his erection between them and moved against it.
Court groaned. “The lady likes to play with fire.” He maneuvered her beneath the spray again, his fingers working with the water to rinse the lather from her hair.
“I like your torch, does that count?” Holding onto his waist, she leaned back, opening herself up to him, her head tipped back into the water. The flow ran down her body, teasing every bit as much as Court touching her.
“My torch likes you, so I suppose it does.”
“And every good torch needs a holder.” She moved against him again and felt him twitch in response.
When he spoke, the words came out gruffly. “A sheath for the knight’s sword?”
“A place for everything and everything in its place.”
Court pulled her against him, his hands slipping down to cup her bottom, holding her tight. “How many more bad clichés can we come up with?”
“Before you decide to stick that thing in me? I don’t know. What are you waiting—”
The thought was left unfinished as he lifted her, impaled her on his body, and pinned her against the wall again, this time with the obvious intent of loving her senseless.
How he managed to find the spark of energy inside her, she didn’t think she’d ever know. He filled her, challenged her, drove her higher. At last, the empty cold spot deep inside crumbled. Being with Court felt better than it ever had. Clin
ging to him, she let him take her where he would, which was heaven for just the two of them. His mouth ravaged hers, his hands gripped her bottom, his fingers rubbed where they could reach. When one finger rubbed in a spot that had rarely been touched, she wiggled and moaned.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
“No, please, no…”
“You sure?” he asked roughly.
“Yes!”
“Easy, love, easy. Give it a min.”
“Just like that, Court, yes!”
Three weeks of frustration gathered inside her and built up into one tight little bundle. The key to releasing it lay solely with Court, and he knew it. She felt his muscles bunching and straining as he held and touched her, creating fire that burned soul deep.
“That’s my girl. Ah, Jeannie, I’ve missed you.”
His finger twisted and touched the right nerves. Like a flame burning along a line of gun powder, a message ran down the fuse of her nervous system to the right bundle of tension, which he also managed to touch as she ground herself against him until she couldn’t breathe. The tile warmed behind her back, and his chest braced her front, flattening her breasts between them. His body rubbed hers, and she moved against him, muscles clenching, embracing him deep within. Tempted to close her eyes, she couldn’t because she didn’t want to miss the expression on Court’s face as the world around her shattered in an explosion of light, glitter, and mist. She heard voices cry out and echo back from the hard surfaces of the room.
“Stay with me, love,” Court panted. A moment later, he drove deeper and buried his face against her neck. His hands tightened, driving her higher until a bright light exploded once more behind her eyes.
Slowly, so slowly, she drifted back from her release, and Court slipped his finger from her, sending another spasm of pleasure along her sensitized system.
“Easy, love.” He kissed her neck and let her legs lower, one at a time until she stood once more, although his body still pinned her against the wall.
“So…” Unable to think of a fitting word, she let the thought drift away.
“So, right, love.” Court rested his lips against her temple. “It’s always like that with you.”
Her Foreign Affair Page 29