The little boy ran up with a box, and the kitten darted into it.
Beaming, Arabella climbed to her feet and walked back to where the adults stood. Mrs. Blossom thanked her profusely, but Nash glowered at her, wiping the smile from her face.
“It is time to go.” He grabbed her elbow and practically shoved her into the carriage. Once they were side-by-side on the padded bench, Arabella wrenched her elbow free. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that countesses do not crawl around in the dirt and rescue animals? You forget your position.”
“My position just now was to save the pet for that little boy. Did you not see his tears?”
“They could certainly have rescued the animal without your help.” He looked at her knees in disgust. “Brush your skirt. It’s full of dirt.”
Indeed, her gown was dirty. With quick movements, she brushed the dirt off and stared out the window. The man was insufferable!
After a while, Arabella’s anger had lessened and she took a deep breath. “I am sorry you were disappointed in me, but I felt the need to help the little boy.”
Nash waved away her comments. “Just don’t ever do that again.”
She swallowed her angry retort and decided to make peace. “How did your conversation with Mr. Blossom go?” She grabbed the strap alongside her head as the carriage hit rough ground.
“Confusing.”
Her raised eyebrows brought more information. “Mr. Blossom claims he has not been having poor crops or other issues that my steward had informed me the tenants were dealing with. He also mentioned something about the rent on his farm going up, and I never requested an increase in rent.”
“Sounds suspicious to me,” Arabella said.
Nash nodded. “Rather than jump to any conclusions, I will talk with the other tenants and see what they have to say before I approach Jones. That is, if I am able to locate the man. He has not answered my summons. Did you enjoy your time with Mrs. Blossom?”
“Yes. She is a lovely woman. Her two sons were teaching each other to read. One was a level above the other, but he was still learning new words himself. I assume they are needed to work the farm, but is there a school they attend?”
“No. The parents do the teaching. Naturally, some better than others, but one or two of the tenants’ lads showed some promise, and the local rector took it upon himself to continue their instruction once they surpassed what their parents had to offer.”
“I would love to see the day when all children may attend school on a regular basis.”
“Ah, I think I hear rumblings of rebellion from my countess. Are you favoring the Whigs, then?” He winked at her.
“Perhaps.” She gave him a saucy smile. “Would that put us at odds once again?”
He reached out and tucked a curl back into her bonnet. “More than we are now?”
“And here I thought we were getting on so famously.” When all was well, and there was no bickering about her animals or his expectations for her, she loved these little repartees they shared.
Nash leaned forward and murmured in her ear. “I look forward to us getting along quite well later this evening.” Before she could offer a retort, he cupped her chin in his hand and covered her lips with his warm, soft ones. She sighed with contentment, happy to once again feel the tingles in various places in her body at her husband’s touch.
Nash pulled away and tapped her on the edge of her nose. “Later.” He glanced over her shoulder and pointed. “Coming up is the Fernside farm. As a boy, I played with their two sons, as well.”
Still under the spell of his kiss, it took Arabella a moment to compose herself. Then she twisted in her seat to see a stone cottage with fields of grain behind it.
Nash continued as he rubbed the soft skin at the back of her neck with his finger and thumb. Honestly, if the man did not stop touching her this way, she would become a bumbling idiot. Then who would be to blame if she made an arse of herself with his tenants?
The carriage came to a rolling stop in front of the small, but tidy, farm. Arabella once again noticed very well-tended crops and family gardens. Whatever issues Nash’s steward was grumbling about hadn’t become noticeable as of yet.
The older couple waited at their front door and greeted Nash and Arabella with smiles, as well. It seemed as if Nash was truly beloved by his tenants. That was very comforting.
“Well, hello there, my lord. I was hoping you would see your way here. We heard yesterday that you were expected and would be bringing your new bride.” Mr. Fernside limped slightly as he moved forward, his wife beside him.
“Hello to you, Fernside.” He turned to Arabella. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Fernside. They are valued tenants, and their family has been with us for generations.”
“It seems to me sometimes, my lord, that I, myself, have been here for generations.” Fernside tugged on the brim of his cap and nodded at Arabella. “My lady.”
Mrs. Fernside offered a slight dip and fussed with her apron, her cheerful face flushing as she spoke. “May I ask you to honor us with a visit inside, my lord, my lady? Since I was hoping you would be by, I made my special apple cake.”
Nash took the basket out of Arabella’s hands and holding onto her elbow, moved her forward. “We are in for a real treat if Mrs. Fernside made her famous apple cake. Their two sons, David and Michael, would swipe it from the windowsill while it was cooling, and we all three would devour it.”
Mrs. Fernside wagged her finger. “Ah, but what you didn’t know, my lord, was I always made two. One I put up high so the lads couldn’t find it.”
“See, she was on to our tricks,” Nash said, winking at Arabella.
Another comfortable home, this one was quieter, with no children around. “I have lost touch the last couple of years. Where are Michael and David?” Nash settled himself in a chair at the wooden table as Mrs. Fernside placed dishes and a teapot on the table.
“Michael married a little gel from Essex. Moved to her family’s farm. David took himself off to the American Colonies.”
“So, you work the place yourself?”
“We cut back a bit, and once in a while my nephew comes by to help. It would be all right if it weren’t for the raise in rent.” Fernside ducked his head and blushed, obviously regretting complaining about a raise to the landlord.
Nash crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about this raise, Mr. Fernside.”
The tenant visits continued for the rest of the afternoon. By the time Nash and Arabella waved good-bye to the last farm on their list, Arabella was exhausted. Who would have thought playing lord and lady of the manor could be so tiring? And truth be known, any weight she’d lost with her illness had truly come back today with all the biscuits, cakes, and tarts they’d been offered.
Each family had been more welcoming than the one before. She found it a satisfying experience to visit tenants. Something she would certainly enjoy, along with caring for animals. Yes, life at Clarendon Manor could be quite pleasant. But first, she must get through the Season in London and Nash’s demands that she take on her role as his countess with the ton’s approval.
Once the carriage began its journey toward home, Nash placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. His large hand cupped her chin and turned her face up to him. Slowly, his head descended, his lips taking hers in a possessive kiss. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips until his nudging encouraged her to open her mouth. They parried and sucked and then he swept over her teeth, and her lower lip, where he stopped to nip, then soothe the soft skin. “I suggest we again have an informal dinner in your room when we return home.” He spoke against her lips, his voice deeper, huskier.
“It looks as though we will never use the dining room, my lord.” Goodness, her voice didn’t sound much better.
“I can think of many ways to use the dining room table,” he said. “None of them require food, however.
”
Had he meant what she thought he’d meant? She looked up at him and then sucked in a breath at the smirk on his handsome face. “Surely, you don’t mean—”
“Yes, I do.” He leaned his head close to her ear, his voice lowered to a pitch that had her wanting to remove their clothes and feel him skin-to-skin. “There are also the many carpets, the chairs, the library desk, the settee, the gazebo.”
She drew back. “Outside!”
“Why not?”
The man was downright wicked, but a kernel of excitement grew in her lower parts at the vision of them naked in the outdoors.
“What I am wanting is an intimate dinner with my lovely wife, and delectable ways to spend the time after dinner.” He grinned. “Consider it dessert.”
Arabella gazed up at him, already lost in his spell. Thinking of the road dust and hours spent in the carriage, she said, “Yes, I believe that would be a good idea, though I would like a bath first.”
He bowed his head. “As you wish.”
Arabella’s heart thundered at this point. Excitement shot through her, and she could already feel herself damp between her legs.
As if he sensed her thoughts, Nash once again placed his mouth near her ear and ran his tongue over the soft shell. “Have no fear, Arabella. We will take our time. We have all night.”
Oh dear.
Chapter Thirteen
Nash knocked lightly on Arabella’s bedchamber door. He’d given her enough time to bathe and prepare herself. He was looking forward to a night spent in his wife’s bed with her naked curves plastered against him in sleep.
Today had been particularly satisfying, despite Arabella’s faux pas with the animals at Blossom’s farm. He shook his head, considering how her behavior would have been viewed had a member of Polite Society been present. On the other hand, Blossom and his wife had been grateful for her assistance and had not seemed to think any less of her for her actions.
Otherwise, she’d made an excellent impression on his tenants, and the staff already turned to her for instructions, which removed a great deal of burdensome decisions from his shoulders.
Thinking of his tenants raised his ire again at the condition of his finances. He’d learned from one of his tenants that his steward, Edward Jones, had not been around to collect the rents for some time. It seemed his son, Randall Jones, had been collecting them on his father’s behalf. Randall had told the tenants that his father was ill and he was helping. A trip to the Jones cottage had shown it locked up tight.
He pushed all of that aside at Arabella’s response and opened the door. She stood there, all pink and glowing from her bath, in a thin cotton nightgown, her curves visible through the candlelight. The gown’s bodice was low enough that the creamy mounds of her breasts rose and fell as she took in breaths. Her hair had been brushed to a gleaming mass of locks draped over her shoulders. She smiled softly at him. He continued his perusal of her body then glanced down at her hands.
She held a furry scrap of some sort of animal in her clutches. Blood dripped onto her pristine white night gown. And the rug. And the counterpane. And her tiny toes peeking out from under the gown.
“What the devil is that, Arabella?”
“I’m sorry, my lord, but one of the maids just brought him to me. He’s been injured and needs my attention.”
“I need your attention. We are not going to perform surgery again. I will ring for a footman who will take that—animal—to the kitchen and have Cook serve it up for breakfast.”
She gasped and clutched the animal to her chest, then swung around, her back facing him, protecting the creature. “No. He is only a little kitten. We can’t eat him for breakfast!”
“I insist. Well, not about eating the thing since I don’t fancy kitten stew, but you will have a footman take it to the kitchen and have one of the maids clean it up.” He raised his hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “That is my final word on this, Arabella.” He walked to the bell rope and tugged.
She continued to pet and murmur to the kitten about the mean man while they waited. Ordinarily her soothing way with the kitten would have blood pumping to his groin, imagining her stroking him instead of the animal. However, the sight of all that blood and the animal’s wails hindered any lustful thoughts.
A footman arrived, his eyebrows reaching his hairline when Nash had Arabella place the kitten in his hands. “Please see that one of the maids attends the kitten.”
“Yes, my lord.” He swallowed a few times. “And then what would you like us to do with it?”
Arabella shook her head furiously. No, he wouldn’t tell the man to have it cooked up. “Just find a basket or something for it to sleep in for the night.” He glanced over at Arabella. “And please have another bath sent up for her ladyship.”
Nash sipped on a glass of brandy in his room, trying very hard not to listen to Arabella in her bath. So far, he had not succeeded. He would read a few lines, then picture her naked body in the warm, scented water, beaded liquid sliding ever so slowly over her flushed skin.
He slammed the book shut, tossed down the rest of his drink and decided she’d had long enough to wash off a bit of blood. Determined to hurry her up even if she were still bathing, he strode across the room and entered her bedchamber, coming to an abrupt stop.
She faced away from him and apparently hadn’t heard him enter. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with strands of damp curls falling down the back of her neck. The creamy skin of her shoulders rose about the rim of the tub, urging him to place his lips there and taste the dampness of her flesh. She hummed softly, stroking her skin with a cloth.
He moved to the bathtub and knelt behind her. Her body stilled as he gave in to his urge and kissed her gently on her neck. She regarded him over her shoulder. “My lord? I am not finished.”
“I know.” He reached out and took the cloth from her hand and rubbed it with the lavender and lemon scented soap floating in the water. Pushing up his sleeves, he dipped the cloth into the water and smoothed it over her breasts. Her nipples immediately tightened and drew into two pouting beads. Her welcoming moan spurred him further, to nibble on her ear and lick the soft shell.
Arabella tilted her head to one side, and he dropped the cloth and used his fingertips to stroke her nipples before cupping them in his hands, kneading the flesh, feeling their weight. “Open your legs,” he whispered. She did as he commanded, her bent knees resting against the sides of the tub.
A whispered “yes” escaped her lips as his fingers slid between her ebony curls, caressing, stroking, petting, much as she had cooed at the kitten. “Do you grow cold, sweetheart? The water is no longer warm.”
When she turned her head to answer, he took her lips in a deep kiss, his fingers still fondling her intimate parts. His thumb circled and pressed against the jutting flesh that would bring her pleasure and eventually cause her to break apart in his arms.
Arabella whimpered when he withdrew his hands from the water. He moved to the chair next to the wall and scooped up a drying cloth Sophia had left there. “Stand,” he said, his voice raspy as he returned to the tub.
Her eyes grew wide. “Stand?”
“Yes.” He barely got the word out, his body so filled with lust he didn’t think he could manage a complete sentence.
Like a nymph rising from the sea, Arabella stood, water dripping off every curve, running down her legs, beading on her nipples. He sucked in a breath, holding the cloth, but did not wrap her in it, his eyes feasting on the sight. “You are stunningly beautiful.” The finest paintings in the Louvre did not compare to the beauty of this flesh and blood woman with curves and dips to tempt the most stalwart of saints.
Her soft laughter had his blood racing right to his cock. Before she could cover her luscious body, he extended his hand to help her out of the tub. Her flesh was pink from the bath, her dampened skin glowing. She took his hand, staring at him the entire time, her eyes never leaving his. Her breathing increased, her sweet
breasts rising and falling, a sure sign she was affected by him watching her.
Gently, he dried her soft skin, taking his time, stopping at different points to caress, stroke, and fondle. She stood like a statue until he dropped the cloth and took her hands, placing them on his shoulders. He leaned in, the soft scent of her breath bathing his face. “I want you so much, my entire body aches.”
“As does mine.” She cast a siren’s smile and wrapping her hands around his head, drew him closer, kissing him softly, until he could no longer stand the gentleness of her kiss. Pulling her flush against his body, he covered her mouth with his, nudging her lips until she opened, then swept his tongue in, loving the taste of tea and mint on her breath.
An overwhelming sense of possession flooded him, almost bringing him to his knees.
Mine. Only mine.
Never in his life, with any of the voluptuous and skilled mistresses and courtesans he’d slept with, had he felt this sense of the right woman being in his arms. She fit him like a well-made leather glove. Her soft curves melted into his hard planes. He loved her silky skin, the scent that came from her hair, the mewing sounds she made when he touched her intimately. When he looked into her eyes, he felt as though he were drowning.
Her innocent, but enthusiastic, response to his touches fired his blood. Nash scooped Arabella up, striding to the bed where he laid her gently and after shrugging out of his banyan, brought his body down on top of hers.
His hand stroked her from her slender shoulders to the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. His fingers nudged her until she opened her legs wider. A low moan rose from her lips when his fingers delved into her moistness and warmth, circling, rubbing. “Do you like that, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” She drew the word out until it became a moan. Nash’s lips covered the nipple on her plump breast and suckled, pulling and tugging until Arabella began thrashing her head back and forth, her breath coming in gasps. “Please, Nash. Please. Do something.”
“What do you want, sweeting?” he whispered in her ear, his fingers busy at the entrance to her body, pushing in and out, stroking the swollen, damp part of her that would give her the pleasure every woman deserved. He gazed down at her face. She bit her lower lip, frowning in concentration as she attempted to reach the pinnacle he knew she longed for. That only he would ever give her.
Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love) Page 13