Caroline sighed and turned her head so he could take her lips with his. She did not kiss him back at first but made him court her.
She felt him smile under her mouth before he turned to the work of wooing her, coaxing her with his lips and teeth and tongue. When her mouth fell open, he devoured her, his mouth slanting over hers as if he would take all of her in. The heat of his passion beckoned her to join him, but still she did not touch him. Instead, she let him feast on her lips until that no longer satisfied him.
Caroline still had not forgiven him for leaving her alone the night before the way he would have left a whore. She had too much pride to rail at him like a fishwife or a jealous mistress. Instead, she did not touch him as she longed to but kept her fingers light on his shoulders. His hands began to move over her body, slipping beneath her night rail to glide his fingertips over the curves of her breasts. Her nipples tightened against his palm as he ran his tongue along her throat, taking her ear in his teeth and tugging gently until she sighed again.
That concession made him bolder. Anthony began to draw her long shawl away from her slowly, dropping it onto the floor.
He then raised her up, and she thought he would finally carry her to the bed, but he did not. Instead, he set her back down on the cushions of her chair and knelt at her feet, burrowing under her gown with his hands.
She watched as his fingers ran along her legs, caressing the silken smoothness of her thighs where the ribbons of her stockings were tied. She had left them on, remembering how he liked to strip them from her himself. Anthony unlaced her stockings slowly, one ribbon at a time, and still she did not move to touch him.
Thoughts of retribution began to fade from her mind as he went to work on her in earnest, feathering kisses along the silk of her stocking as he brought first one and then the other down over her foot. Anthony cast each aside. He kissed one bare foot and then the other, scraping his teeth along the line of her instep.
She had never known her feet could feel such pleasure. Warmth pooled between her thighs as if a fire had been lit there. Still he did not take her to the bed but raised her gown even higher, parting her thighs so he could nestle himself between them.
Caroline gasped when his tongue touched her. She almost came out of the chair when he began to kiss her there as he had on their wedding night. He held her down, and she could do nothing but let the pleasure wash over her, one stroke of his tongue at a time, until it crested and broke over her head, washing her up on a foreign shore.
She lay back in the chair, her nightgown bunched about her waist, her hair trailing behind her. She found she could not move. He had to scoop her up and carry her to bed with no help from her at all.
Anthony laid her down and drew her gown off at last. But he left his clothes on, so when he climbed on top of her, she could feel the weft of his brocade waistcoat and the roughness of his trousers as he ran one leg over hers. He had unfastened them, his manhood pressing against her thigh.
He was inside her then, and she moaned as she expanded to take him in. He gave her pleasure with his first thrust, and that pleasure built as he moved over her, his body close to hers, his waistcoat rubbing against her breasts. She cried out under him, the pleasure building more quickly than it ever had, and taking her over the edge not once but twice as he worked over her, watching her face. As she lay limp beneath him, he reveled in his own pleasure, and with a few more thrusts emptied himself into her.
They lay together in the soft bedclothes and feathered mattress of their marriage bed. Anthony regained his strength first and raised himself on one elbow. He grinned down at her, well satisfied. Caroline looked into the dark beauty of his eyes and could not help but smile back.
“Am I forgiven then?” he asked.
She sighed and stretched beneath him, pressing her body against his as if to remind him that whatever pleasure he gave her, she still belonged to herself. “You are forgiven, Husband. But don’t leave me like a thief in the night again.”
He laughed and kissed her, pressing his lips to her collarbone, running his tongue along the softness of her skin. She did not soften beneath him, and he met her eyes. “I will not leave you, unless I must.”
Caroline looked into his eyes and saw that was all the concession she would get. She accepted it with a hope for better things to come. Her mother had taught her never to be cloying, for no husband would tolerate it. So she let all thoughts of the future go and stretched once more, this time her eyes half-open so she could watch Anthony as he stared down at her naked body in the firelight.
“I am hungry, Husband.”
She spoke low, her voice throaty, still half-breathless from the pleasure he had given her. As she watched, Anthony swallowed hard and licked his lips, bending down once more to run his tongue along her shoulder.
“I find that I, too, have an appetite.”
“For food, Husband? There are beef tips braised in butter on the table.”
Anthony laughed, kissing her lips, drawing her up to lean against him as he sat on the edge of their bed. He was still fully dressed but for his unfastened trousers. Caroline felt the urge to reach down and fondle him, but she fought it. He had not given her the concession she had asked for. Instead of drawing him back into love play, she would eat.
Caroline tried to pull away, but her husband held her tight against him. She thought he might draw her down onto the bed and cover her, for he was hard once more. But he did not. Instead, he stroked her hair where it fell in long waves down her back. At first, Caroline leaned against him, wondering when he might let her go. But soon the feel of his hand on her hair soothed her, and she leaned against him, letting him support all of her weight.
The silence stretched between them, and Caroline began to forget the food on the table, as well as the pleasure he had given her. She found her mind drifting as she sat moored safely in his arms. She would have slept but for the sound of his voice in her ears.
“There is food, Wife. Come, let us eat it.”
Anthony took her hand and helped her rise from their bed. She leaned against him for a moment before she knelt down and swept her nightgown up from the floor. She stepped away from him and drew the soft confection over her head in one smooth motion, so Anthony was left staring after her.
Caroline caught him watching her, and she smiled a sleepy smile, still well sated from their lovemaking. She rose on her toes and kissed him, but when he reached for her, she slipped out of his grasp and went to sit at the table where their evening meal was set.
***
He laughed under his breath as he fastened his clothes. No woman had ever walked away from him. Anthony found himself dismissed for the first time in his life by the only woman on earth sworn to obey him.
He was surprised that instead of irritation or a rising temper, he felt only pride. For some inexplicable reason, he was proud of the tilt of Caroline’s head as she walked away from him, of the clear strength in her brown eyes. He had never known a woman strong enough to match him on his own ground in bed or anywhere else. The more he came to know her, the more fascinating his wife became. He began to think it would be many years before he came to know this woman well, if he ever did.
He drew his armchair close to hers as they began to eat. He watched as his young wife devoured the beef tips braised in butter, and the rich white bread baked that afternoon from wheat grown on his land.
He almost did not recognize himself as they sat together. Anthony took in every bite she swallowed, staring all the while into her eyes. He would have worried he was acting too much like a moon-sick boy, except his wife did not seem to notice.
To claim her attention, Anthony fed her bites from his own hand. Caroline laughed, offering morsels to him, as well, until they left the food unfinished on the table and fell on each other once more.
This time Anthony lay back against the softness of their bedclothes and let her draw his waistcoat and trousers off him slowly, along with his billowing shirt, one piece of c
lothing at a time. Her eyes seemed to linger over the sight of his body in the firelight. He ached with the need to have her beneath him, but he was a man in control of himself, so he did nothing.
Anthony drew his hands behind his head and cradled them there so he would not touch her. Caroline saw the challenge he offered her, and she smiled a long, slow smile as she dragged her nightgown over her head.
Her hair spilled around her in a curtain of gold. She smiled at him between the strands, crawling on her hands and knees to where he lay in the center of their bed. She straddled him but did not mount him. Instead, she lay across him, keeping her eyes on his, waiting to see if he would move to take her. Though his breathing became labored, Anthony did not touch her.
His wife set herself to enjoying him as he had so often savored her. She ran her hands over the hard length of his chest, trailing her palms down to his waist and over his thighs, leaving his manhood untouched, but barely.
He shuddered under her hands; his smile faded. It would be only a matter of time before he rolled over, pinning her beneath him. Anthony held himself still and called on all his powers of self-control. But this woman seemed set on challenging that control, as she challenged him in everything. She followed the path her hands had taken with her lips and teeth, until her tongue grazed his inner thigh.
Caroline raised her head then and gave him a wicked smile. Anthony laughed under his breath, but he did not move to touch her. So she lowered her mouth to his manhood, taking him between her lips, running her tongue and teeth over him.
Anthony’s control broke. He dragged her up the length of his body, turning in the same fluid motion to trap her beneath him. Without even testing her for warmth and wetness, Anthony plunged into her as into a river, as if he was on fire. She gasped under the onslaught, but soon she was moaning beneath him.
Anthony remembered himself and worked over her more carefully, trying to contain his lust, trying not to hurt her. But it seemed Caroline would have all of him or nothing. She moved under him, drawing him deeper into herself, clutching him hard so he gave himself up and took her blindly, without caution or care.
Caroline trembled beneath him, moaning in inarticulate supplication even as Anthony gasped her name. They lay together when they were through, clinging to each other as if the body beside them was the only stability they knew.
Anthony’s laugh rumbled in his chest before he gave it voice. His wife, her face flushed from their exertions, moved slowly, as if she could barely find the will to rise. Still, her voice was tart when she spoke to him.
“Do I amuse you, Husband?”
She seemed to gather her strength with great effort, enough to raise her head so she might look him in the eye.
“No, my love. I amuse myself.”
She did not seem satisfied with this answer, but she lay down again, pillowing her head on his chest. Little time passed before she was breathing deeply, her sweet limbs heavy against him.
This time, Anthony did not move to pull away. She lay draped over him for the rest of the night as he reveled in the memory of her beneath him on their marriage bed. He was amazed by the pleasure he had found in her arms, as well as the joy. These things he had not looked for when he first went to Yorkshire. He had gotten far more in this marriage than he had bargained for.
Chapter 17
London
Two hours before dawn, Anthony woke Caroline. He pressed his lips to her cheek, trailing down to the softness of her mouth. She smiled at his touch and turned to him, reaching to draw him down into bed with her. Then she woke fully and saw he was dressed to leave for London already.
“I must go. But I wanted to see you first.”
“When will you be home?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
Anthony wanted nothing more in that moment than to crawl back into bed with her, his work with the Prince Regent’s supporters be damned. Her warm body, naked beneath the bedclothes, beckoned him.
“As soon as I am able. I will send word before I come.”
“Just come home soon, Anthony.”
Her tousled hair and soft breath on his cheek almost weakened him past bearing, but he pulled away from her in spite of his desire. He found he had begun not just to desire her body but her company. He pushed that thought from his mind as he took the road to London on Achilles’s back.
Once in the city, he went about his affairs just as he had before he met Caroline, but he could not forget her. His valet came to shave him each morning while his steward went over the day’s work that lay before him. As Gerald pressed the hot towel to his face before drawing a sharpened razor across his chin, Anthony found himself wishing it was Caroline whose hands were touching him.
Anthony knew his duty, and he followed it to the letter. He saw to his shipping interests and his business with the East India Company. He attended sessions in the Parliament building to prepare for the opening of the House of Lords. And all the while, he thought of Caroline and how her golden hair looked against the silk of his pillow.
He was thinking this pleasant thought as he strode out of Parliament, nodding to friends and acquaintances as he passed. It was then he saw Victor lurking in a doorway, speaking with one of his faction.
Almost as if he could sense his presence, Victor turned to meet Anthony’s gaze. The rest of the men in the room stopped to stare, to see what might come of this. The eyes of the others were on Anthony, a weight he could not shake off.
“Well met, Ravensbrook.”
Victor’s tone was as calm and oily as ever. At no time in all the years he had known him had Anthony ever heard a different cadence of his voice. Victor always spoke to him with the same even calmness, and his blue eyes always held the same mild gaze. He had looked just the same on the day they had met with Prinny to settle Anne’s fate.
“I thought I’d heard you were in Edinburgh,” Anthony said, trying to keep his own tone as even and cool. He knew he failed.
“These rumors get started, but we never know from where,” Victor answered. “And how is your lovely wife?”
A sea of red rose from the ground at Anthony’s feet. That this man had sat beside his wife at a dinner laid out for whores was bad enough. That he would mention her so casually made Anthony’s fury rise so fast he almost could not stop himself from reaching for the dagger in his boot.
He knew his temper bordered on madness. One man might ask after the health of a wife or a sister or a mother. He always seemed to lose his grip on both his sanity and his temper where Victor was concerned.
“My wife is well.” The words stuck in Anthony’s throat.
“Well protected, I hope. Women can get into mischief when our backs are turned.” Carlyle smiled. If they had not been surrounded by their peers, Anthony would have killed him. He thought of Anne and stayed still.
“My wife is being looked after.” The tension mounted between them, and neither moved or backed down. The men stared at each other until a footman dressed in the royal livery came to Anthony’s side.
“My lord, the Prince Regent sends for you.”
Anthony stood silent, still taking the measure of his enemy.
“Indeed, Anthony. If Prinny calls, do not let me keep you.”
Victor’s voice was mild, but for the first time Anthony saw a gleam of anger behind his gaze. Victor was a member of the opposing faction in Parliament, one of the few lords of the realm who spoke out against the Prince Regent and his policies, both at home and abroad. Though he was out of royal favor, though he thwarted the Prince Regent at every turn, Victor still hungered for his regard.
Anthony bowed, then turned to follow the footman out of the main hall to the plush carriage that waited to take him to Carlton House. He signaled to his man, who nodded from a distance. His barouche would be waiting outside the prince’s residence to take him home.
***
Anthony was led through the anteroom of the Prince Regent’s chambers, through the hall of audience, and into the Prince Rege
nt’s personal apartments. Carlyle would hear that not only had he been called alone into the presence of the Prince Regent, but he had been received as a guest and an equal. Let Victor chew on that.
The Prince Regent sat in a comfortable chair drawn close to the fire where sandalwood burned, making the whole room smell sweet.
Anthony bowed low, careful not to presume on old acquaintance. But the Prince Regent rose when he came in, taking him in his arms as he had since Anthony was a little boy.
“Anthony, you must not let Victor back you into a corner. What would you have done if my men had not been watching over you?”
Anthony knew that no matter how much he loved this man, he would not draw him any deeper into the old conflict between his family and Victor’s. The Prince Regent had enough troubles of his own.
“Do not fear for me, Your Highness.”
The prince laughed. “I do not. I only chide you, as your father would if he were here.”
The two men did not speak for a long moment, both thinking of the great man who had died five years before. Anthony had been his only living son and had worked hard to learn the family interests and to keep them strong, as his father had left them. In the last two years, he had even been able to increase their income, making his ships that sailed with the East India Company an even greater prize for Victor to feed on.
“I thank you,” Anthony said.
The Prince Regent waved his words away. “You have a wife.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And you do not bring her to London?”
“No.”
“What, are we not good enough for your Yorkshire girl?”
Anthony smiled. “I have not tamed her yet.”
The Prince Regent laughed, one short bark that set him coughing, so Anthony moved to bring him water. But before Anthony could step away, a footman came forward and served his prince. The Prince Regent drank, gasping until he had caught his breath. Anthony knew that, in spite of his wild living, or perhaps because of it, the prince was not always well. He vowed that, tamed or not, he would bring his wife to meet the man who had been his father’s best friend.
How to Tame a Willful Wife Page 12