The color matched her skin exactly. He kissed her between her breasts, just above where his pearl rested. She lay back on the bed and drew him down with her, taking him into her body almost without any help from him. He gasped over her as her hips moved against his, bringing him closer and closer to climax. For the second time that night, he did not take control back from his lover but let her undulate beneath him, holding himself just above her so she had room to move.
His breath became ragged as she moved against him, until she moaned under him and shuddered in her own release. Anthony lunged against her then, driving into her with three quick thrusts that left him spiraling into his own chasm of pleasure. He lay against her afterwards, breathing hard, the pearl on its golden chain wedged against her heart, a small bond between them.
Chapter 20
Anthony left for London again before the month was out. Parliament would open officially in November, and he had work to do both for his own interests and for the Prince Regent’s. This time he told Caroline when he was going and left just after dawn so she could rise from her bed to wave him off.
With Anthony gone, Caroline always wore the pearl he had given her, hidden beneath the bodice of her gown. She did not want the servants carrying tales to him that she displayed his gift openly, pining for him.
Caroline continued her life much as she had intended, in spite of the fact that Anthony was certain that she would give up her knives. Though he had asked for such a concession, she had never agreed to it. She began the search for an instructor who might help her drill her fighting skills and perhaps teach her new ones. Despite all Anthony said, he and his men could not be everywhere at once. Her father had taught her to look to her own safety.
She instructed the grooms to set up an archery range just beyond the stables, far enough away that the horses would not be bothered, but close enough that she could run indoors if a sudden rain came up. She practiced with her bow and arrows until her fingers bled beneath the soft leather of her gloves, until she was sure that skill, at least, would not be lost.
The sound of the myrtle shaft striking its target was satisfying, but she knew a bow and arrow were worthless against an attacker. Unlike the goddess Athena, she could not walk about wearing her bow and quiver with her day gowns.
During the second week Anthony was in London, Caroline went to the village of Ravensbrook, ostensibly to buy material for a new gown, when truly she hoped to find a teacher. She looked in windows along the village high street, but though she found pretty ribbons and lovely bonnets, no one she spoke to led her to believe a fencing master lurked in the depths of Shropshire. She had almost resolved to simply practice her knife fighting on her own in secret, when she took tea at the local inn and public house.
The Wick and Candle stood on the edge of town where travelers might easily stop, break their journey, and have a meal. The food was fine and the proprietress friendly. Caroline had struck up an acquaintance with her as soon as she moved to Ravensbrook, when she was first becoming known to the village and the tenants on her husband’s estate.
Mrs. Bellows always welcomed Caroline with a smile and a fresh-baked scone. She seemed to keep the steaming confections in the oven at all times, for never once had Caroline called without a pile of hot scones being offered on a china plate with fresh butter and hot black tea. That day was no exception, though for the first time, Mrs. Bellows did not lead Caroline directly into the private parlor.
“My lady, a gentleman traveling to London has stopped here for a day and a night. He has taken the parlor at the moment. Would you mind sharing it with him if I kept one of my girls present?”
Caroline knew that it went against all propriety, but with her husband gone and her mother far away in Yorkshire, she was confident she might do as she pleased. “For one of your scones, I would brave a wild lion. Lead me to the parlor, and I will introduce myself.”
Mrs. Bellows smiled, her relief evident. She waved to a girl bringing food to the taproom. After Molly had delivered her wares to the occupants of the main room, Caroline followed Mrs. Bellows and her would-be protector to meet the stranger. Caroline knew her reputation must be guarded always, especially since Anthony was protective to the point of madness. The villagers seemed to know of her husband’s tendencies, and respected them as she herself did not.
Mrs. Bellows opened the door to the parlor and curtsied to the gentleman inside. “My lady, if I may present Mr. Carstairs. He is a traveler on his way to London and is happy to share the parlor with you. Her ladyship, the Countess of Ravensbrook.”
Viscount Carlyle stood as the women entered the room and bowed. “Your servant, ma’am.”
His blue eyes gleamed with mischief, as if he knew a great joke and would share it with her as soon as they were alone. Caroline nodded to him and let the lie of his false name pass.
She sank onto the settle by the fire as Mrs. Bellows brought scones and cream, as well as the strawberry jam she had made that spring, then left them. Hot tea was placed at Caroline’s elbow, and she poured in silence while Molly stood by, poking the fire to make it burn brighter.
“Molly, would you be so kind as to fetch me more clotted cream? This is lovely, but I don’t think we have quite enough for Mr. Carstairs and myself.”
“Of course, my lady.” Molly bobbed a quick curtsy, leaving Caroline alone with the viscount..
“You turn up in the most unlikely places, my lord. I never know when I will see you next.”
Carlyle laughed. “I might say the same of you, my lady. Marriage seems to suit you.”
“Tolerably well.” Caroline dismissed any further niceties with the wave of one hand. “We have little time to talk openly. What are you playing at?”
“Well, my lady, your husband, as you may recollect, is not overly fond of me.”
“No, he is not. But then he does not seem overly fond of anyone, save Pembroke.”
“And yourself, of course,” Carlyle said.
Caroline did not acknowledge that statement one way or another, and Victor continued to speak. “Suffice it to say that your husband and I do not always see eye to eye, in business or in anything else. Though this grieves me, there is little I can do about it at this late date. I find that when I pass through towns near his properties, if I expect decent service, I must offer a name other than my own.”
“So you are famous among my husband’s people then?”
“Infamous, one might even say, my lady.”
Caroline shrugged one shoulder. She sipped at her tea, warming her hands against the thin china cup. “I suppose I will leave your business between my husband and yourself. God knows I have enough of my own concerns without troubling myself with yours.”
“Indeed.” Viscount Carlyle smiled. “Always a sound policy.”
Molly returned then with a heaping dish of cream. “Here you are, my lady.”
“Thank you, Molly.”
Caroline spread the confection over her still-warm scone and watched it melt for a moment before she bit into it. She sighed in delight.
“Well, Mr. Carstairs, if I might ask you a personal question in regards your own wife?”
“Of course, my lady. I am your servant.”
Caroline hid her smile behind her teacup. His false servility sounded a bit over the top to her own ears, but Molly did not notice it at all.
She wondered for a moment if she could trust a man so glib with the truth, but there was always the knife in her reticule.
“Does your wife look at all to her own safety?”
“Forgive me, my lady. I am not certain what you mean.”
“It occurs to me that a lady, while well protected, might also want to learn how to protect herself. My father always thought so.”
“Indeed, Lady Ravensbrook. The teachings of our fathers are surely to be adhered to. How did the illustrious gentleman instruct you?”
“In fencing and in the use of a short blade.” Caroline was not certain she should say such a thin
g openly, but she knew if she did not find an instructor soon, she would begin to forget all she had learned, and her hard-won skill would be gone.
“I see.”
Carlyle did not look shocked, nor did he condemn her. “Mrs. Carstairs does not feel the need to defend herself in that way, but I can certainly understand why a woman might. She might fall in with unsavory characters without realizing it, perhaps.”
“I suppose she might,” Caroline said. “Do you know of anyone who might instruct a lady in such a pastime?”
Carlyle glanced at Molly, but the girl seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. He turned back to Caroline.
“As a matter of fact, I do. I am acquainted with a distant neighbor of yours, Angelique Beauchamp, the Countess of Devonshire. She has in her employ a gentleman who also works for me.”
Caroline’s gaze sharpened. “What man would work for both you and your countess friend?”
“A man I have asked to spy on her.”
“How unsavory,” Caroline said.
“Indeed. But information has its uses, Lady Ravensbrook.”
“And you want information about her. Is she your mistress then?”
“My word, you are impertinent. I am surprised your husband has not cured you of that.”
Caroline smiled sweetly. “He has tried. But as you can see, he has failed.”
Victor smiled back, and she saw a hint of challenge in his look. “So far. Your marriage is young.”
“Indeed. As with all things, time will tell the tale.”
Caroline met his eyes without flinching until he smiled at her, raising his hands in surrender. “So true, my lady, so true. But whatever the case, my man can certainly help you.”
“What would he be able to do?”
“Ralph Higgins is his name. He would be happy to ride to your estate and instruct you on the use of a blade.”
“We cannot meet there. My husband does not approve of this endeavor.”
“Ah,” Victor said, leaning back in his chair. “That does make things more difficult.”
“But not impossible,” Caroline said.
Victor smiled. “No. Not impossible.” He sat in silence for a moment while she watched him.
“There is a house to let not two miles from here. If you can get away from your duties once every two weeks or so, Ralph could meet you there.”
“What assurances do I have that he will not try to take advantage of the situation?” Caroline asked.
“None,” Victor said, smiling. “You had best bring your own man with you, as well as your blades, until you are sure of him. He has always served me well, but he is a slippery character, taking money both from myself and from Countess Devonshire.”
“Men like that can never be trusted,” Caroline said.
“No.” Carlyle took a sip of his tea. “But from time to time, they can be useful.”
***
Anthony did not spend all of the autumn in London, though Caroline came to miss him more and more when he was away. She began to enjoy his presence when he was home, not just for the pleasure she found in their bed, but for his company.
Every few weeks, when Anthony was away, Caroline spent an afternoon of her free time working with Ralph Higgins. He was a quiet man who opened his mouth only to correct her. His advice was always welcome, for as a small man, he knew some of the disadvantages she faced when fighting. But they worked together only every few weeks. When she was not scheduled for a lesson, she hungered for physical activity that went beyond her rides on Hercules, with a groom trailing behind her.
***
Anthony came home for a week toward the end of October. One morning, he woke to find Caroline gone from their bed. When she did not return within a half hour, he dressed and went to look for her in the breakfast room but did not find her there either. He did not ask the staff where his wife had gone, for he did not wish to look like a fool. Instead, he walked down to the stables to see if she had ridden out on Hercules without telling him.
He found her, not in the stables, but in the meadow directly behind it. She stood facing an archery target, just as she had the first time he had ever seen her.
No gentlemen of the ton looked on this time. Indeed, the stable lads ignored her as they went about their business inside. No one seemed to think it odd that the lady of the house had a lethal weapon in her hands.
She had not bothered to dress her hair, and the golden mass fell braided down her back, all the way to her waist. She wore a day gown of pale blue trimmed in white, and looked for all the world like a lady who might sit and take tea, save for the wild fall of hair and the weapon she held.
Anthony held his breath as she drew back on the bow. Her arrow flew straight and far, burying itself just left of the center of the makeshift target. She smiled and drew again, making each successive shot better than the last. When she had emptied her quiver and strode toward the target to pick up her arrows, Anthony fell into step beside her.
“You are a fine shot, Caroline. I have never seen a woman shoot so well or so far.”
She blinked, clearly surprised to see him there. She did not stammer or mutter an excuse but continued to draw her arrows from the target. He helped her pull them out and replace them in the quiver on her back.
“I shoot better than most men, my lord, save for on horseback. I have not had enough practice hunting with a bow while riding Hercules.”
“That would be a savage practice indeed, my lady. I for one am glad you contain your archery to the range.”
She smiled at him then, her soft mouth rising in a sensuous curve. His loins tightened at the sight of that smile, one he rarely saw, save when they were alone in their bedroom.
“Do you fear I will ride after you, wailing like an Amazon, my bow at the ready?”
Anthony laughed. “I am much more used to you whole and alive.”
She leaned close and pressed a kiss to his lips before deftly stepping out of his reach. “That is true, my lord.”
She went back to her place, and Anthony followed. She drew back on her bow, but Anthony interrupted her. “Might I make a suggestion?”
She lowered her bow. “What suggestion would that be?”
“Perhaps if you raised your grip very slightly toward the fletching, the arrow might fly farther.”
He watched her process this unsolicited bit of advice, but she did not dismiss it. Her brow furrowed with thought, and Anthony suppressed the desire to kiss the frown that appeared between her eyes.
“I do not see how that would help,” she said. “I shoot well now.”
“Yes, Caroline. But one may always improve.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Show me.”
Anthony stepped close, but instead of taking the bow she offered, he wrapped his arms around her. He stood behind her, one hand on the bow, the other on her arrow. His breath came fast as he took in the scent of roses on her skin and jasmine under that. His desire for her rose though they had been together only hours before. He found himself transfixed by the heat of her slight body, by the softness of her curves as she stood close. She noticed his arousal against the small of her back, and she pressed against him harder.
“Caroline, focus, please.”
He saw her smile, her gloved hands tightening their grip on the bow. “As you say, my lord. You are the instructor here.”
Anthony thought for one heated moment he would toss the bow aside and take her on the damp ground then and there. But anyone might step out from the stables. Though she drove him mad with desire, he did not have to let all of his stable hands know it.
He placed his hand over hers and helped her draw back on the bow. Once she was in place, he moved her fingers an inch back on the arrow, closer to the fletching.
“This is uncomfortable, Anthony. My hand is too far back.”
“It feels that way only because you haven’t done it before.” He pressed his lips to her ear, his breath hot on the pearl-pink shell hidden behind her hair. �
��Trust me.”
Caroline let her arrow fly then, and she missed her mark.
“That one does not count,” she said. “You distracted me.”
“Indeed, I did. Let us try again.”
Anthony kept his hands on her hips this time, holding her against his growing erection. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her, for her breathing had quickened far too much for archery. It was his nearness and the heat of his body that distracted her, and he knew it.
Her second and third shots went wide.
“Anthony, I cannot think with you standing so close. Please step back.”
“I thought you were a master archer who could hit her target no matter what distractions she might encounter.”
Caroline did not answer but fitted another arrow onto her bow. She squared her shoulders as he leaned close and ran his tongue along her ear. She breathed deeply, her hand trembling once before she took her shot. This time, she did not miss.
She threw her bow down and dropped her quiver into the mud, turning on him like a lioness. Anthony braced himself for a tirade but instead found his arms full of willing woman, her tongue slipping past his lips, lingering in the heat of his mouth.
He moaned without thinking, pulling her close for a heated kiss. She did not lead for long, for his own desire rose to the fore, his hands moving from her hips to her bottom, pressing her hard against him. She spoke his name, the sweetest sound he had heard all that day.
“Anthony, come inside.”
“We’ll frighten the horses.”
“They’ll get over it.”
“We’ll frighten the stable boys.”
“They’ve seen it before.”
Caroline pressed herself hard against him until he could no longer resist her. The Earl of Ravensbrook lifted his countess in his arms and carried her into the stable. The saddle room was empty. Anthony pushed the door closed with one booted foot, and the heavy wood slammed in its frame.
“I’m sure they all heard that,” he said. “No doubt, they’ll stay away.”
How to Tame a Willful Wife Page 15