When she made her way toward the dining room, Alex was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He held a rakish smile, one that hinted he knew secrets and would share them. Which begged the question, what kinds of secrets would he keep from her?
“Good evening, Lady Pembrooke.” Alex caught her hand before she descended the last step and briefly kissed her cheek. Moving his mouth to the side of her head, he whispered for her ears only, “Beautiful wife.”
The smile lit his eyes from within. She immediately responded, desiring more of his touch. Instead of pleasant, dinner might turn into pure torture if her traitorous body wouldn’t behave.
Stepping away, Alex placed her hand on his arm to escort her. “I’m delighted you joined me this evening. All day I’ve looked forward to spending time with you.”
“With such a note, I didn’t consider it a request but a command performance, my lord.” His scent of fresh soap, starch, and male surrounded her. For a moment, she imagined burying her nose in his shirt to get closer, much like the night he’d discovered her in Lady Anthony’s garden.
Alex chuckled. “Come.” He escorted her into the drawing room, where a bottle of champagne awaited them. Alex twisted the cork until the light pop sounded. He let the wine settle, then poured two glasses.
The sparkle in his eyes matched the wine, as if his pleasure in seeing her were authentic. This was a new game he played, and she didn’t know the rules. It was only days ago that he thought she was Lord Paul’s lover. Since they were married, it offered him little advantage to be pleasant.
“I wanted to toast our marriage last evening, but I found you asleep.” His voice carried a hint of disappointment. Their fingers brushed together when he offered the glass. The casual touch caused a spark of awareness to smolder low inside her body. “To my lovely wife, the siren of my desires.”
For a long moment, she stared into his eyes and tried to understand his toast. Unexpectedly, he winked and raised his glass to his lips. Claire relaxed and matched his movement. The wine’s bubbles tickled her throat as she swallowed. “What a charming toast, one any wife would appreciate. What’s caused this humor?” Claire kept her gaze steady and congratulated herself on her composure.
With a sinewy grace, he took both glasses and carefully placed them on the table. “Darling, the thought of you distracted me all day. Tonight, I want our first dinner as a married couple to be special. I hope we have tens of thousands more.”
Claire lowered her gaze. His efforts to win a spot in her good graces were quite entertaining, but she didn’t want to surrender that easily.
He leaned near, and his lips brushed hers with the barest touch. With a deliberate motion, Alex drew back and looked into her eyes as if trying to see her innermost thoughts.
“When I saw you yesterday, I knew I was the luckiest man in England. Somehow, you found the resolve to marry me.” He cupped her cheeks with his hands, his thumbs brushing slightly up and down. “The way we parted after Lady Hampton’s still haunts me. The unhappiness I caused you didn’t set right with me. Forgive me.” Slowly this time, he lowered his mouth and captured hers.
Claire’s determination to remain in control fled when his arms tightened around her. The softness of his full lips against hers fascinated her. Warmth settled into every limb of her body.
His hand skated across the soft silk of her dress as his tongue danced with hers. He clasped her hip with a gentle squeeze and pulled her closer. His fingers traced a path upward until his thumb circled her nipple with the lightest caress. He groaned into her mouth.
Claire lost sense of time and place. The friction against her skin made her want to plead for more. The stroke of his thumb sent pleasure racing through her veins until it settled low in her belly. When she arched into his hand, he kissed her again. Hard. Possessive.
Her thoughts tumbled into a mishmash. Her legs grew weak, as if they couldn’t bear her weight. His incendiary kiss brought back memories of their kiss at Lady Hampton’s dinner party, where she had practically melted in his arms. She wasn’t ready for the same loss of control, not until she understood Alex better. Not until they trusted each other better. She stepped back and gazed into his desire-filled eyes.
“I’m hungry. Are you?” Claire asked, breathing heavily.
Alex drew back, his voice sinfully low. “If only you knew. Come, let’s eat.”
They made their way to the dining room. Her pulse still raced as he seated her. The evening was fraught with challenges, namely his talent to make her forget everything except for him. Every touch, every word, and every glance he gave her threatened what little ability she possessed to make it through the meal.
Claire took a sip of the dry, fragrant white Bordeaux that the footman served. Her breath caught when Alex extended his thigh and leaned it against her knee. The table covering hid his actions, but the heat of his leg against hers still shocked her.
Grasping her hand, he pushed his thumb back and forth against her fingers with a knowing smile on his lips. “Darling, are you all right?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He deliberately teased her with his attention. She moved her leg to stanch the blatant hint of intimacy between them but allowed his hand to remain on hers. It was above the table and in view of the servants.
Alex’s eyes never left hers as the footmen delivered course after course. If quizzed in the morning on what she had eaten, she’d fail completely. Her nerves were wound up tighter than a ball of twine. When Alex offered a bite of his dessert, custard with a vanilla sauce, he held the spoon while she ate. Unconsciously, she licked her lips and found a smoldering fire light his eyes.
“I’m very happy you’re here.” With a wave of Alex’s hand, the footmen retreated from the room. Even though they were alone, he leaned toward her so no more than a hand’s distance separated them. “I dreaded coming home, but with you by my side, things are different. I don’t feel the oppressive silence in every room.”
“Perhaps it’s a new chapter in both our lives.”
“I think you’re good luck.” The upward twitch of his lips was devastatingly handsome, and she faltered in the silence that engulfed them. “Spend the day with me tomorrow.”
“I’m not certain of my schedule in the morning.” She shook her head, desperate for her mind to tackle her heart and take control of the conversation.
“Of course. You’re still getting settled.” He brought her hand against his lips. “Will you spend the afternoon with me?”
The whisper of his words washed across her skin like silk. It distracted her. No, he distracted her, but she forced herself to focus.
“You mentioned the river yesterday. Shall we ride to it?”
“No.” The sharpness in her voice startled her. “What I mean … I—I—”
“Pardon me.” His formidable gaze captured hers, and his voice deepened. “Until now, it never occurred to me … your memories of the river.”
“It’s all right.”
“We both possess memories from here that aren’t pleasant to revisit.” He squeezed her hand. “Let me take you on a picnic. How does that sound? We’ll read and visit some of my old haunts on the grounds. Whatever you’d like.”
He was trying to make her feel welcome with a sincere gesture. Her husband was truly a nice man. “I’d like that very much.”
He pushed away from the table—a signal their time was over. Claire rose to leave Alex with his evening port or whatever he liked to do after dinner. Tonight, her single desire was to retire with a good book and settle the riot of sensation he had stirred.
“What are your plans?” he asked.
“I’m retiring to do a little reading.”
Alex glanced in the direction of his study. He gave her a winsome half grin. “I’ve got a few letters I need to answer. Afterward, may I join you?”
Claire nodded. “I’ll leave you to your work.”
She had no idea what he meant. Was he going to join her in reading or consummat
e the marriage? As she made her way to her chambers, her mind raced as she recalled the kisses they had shared not an hour ago.
Aileen was waiting for her and made quick work of undressing and preparing her for bed. The maid turned to leave but stopped.
“My lady”—Aileen wrinkled her nose as if smelling something not to her liking—“I had the strangest conversation this evening. His Lordship’s valet wants me to report to him daily.”
The request shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. Alex never mentioned how he wanted to incorporate Aileen into the staff. Neither she nor Aileen was accustomed to reporting to anyone. Cavensham through and through, she refused to succumb to any discomfort in front of her maid over the announcement. “How did you respond?”
“I told him he was the worst excuse for a man, particularly a Frenchman, I’d ever seen. When he stood to argue, I leaned over the table and pushed him back into his chair. I informed him I don’t take kindly to his orders and made it clear if he needed to know, I’d tell him or he could ask the marquess.”
Claire retreated to the turquoise-colored Louis XV writing desk and busied her hands with old correspondence. She loved her maid’s strong, lilting voice and imagined how it had sounded in the kitchen. The conversation between the two servants facing off against each other would have been a sight—a Scot against a Frenchman. Aileen would stand her ground in any match that might arise with Alex’s valet. However, the relationship was tense between the two servants, and both she and Aileen needed to fit into their new household.
“Thank you for defending my privacy, but share the information.” She kept her tone even, as if it didn’t bother her.
“My lady”—her maid’s voice reverberated with indignation—“he’s a valet to a marquess. I’m a lady’s maid to you, a Duke of Langham’s daughter.”
“And I am now the Marquess of Pembrooke’s wife.” Claire released an exasperated sigh. “Just do as I ask for now. I’ll discuss the matter with Lord Pembrooke.”
Aileen folded her arms across her stomach, and her voice softened. “While the valet was interrogating me, an under-footman mumbled something about the curse. His Lordship’s valet stood immediately and ordered him back to work. Apparently, the staff holds the valet in high regard. There wasn’t a single peep afterward.”
“Bloody hell.” Claire held her hand against her forehead. She didn’t need the curse to follow her to her new home, or the rumor that she and Aileen were standoffish.
“Wish I could say the same,” Aileen sniffed.
“Pardon?”
“Wish I could say I held Jean-Claude in high regard.” Aileen busied herself at Claire’s dressing table.
“Tell him whatever he asks.” Claire took a deep breath. “Do it in a manner not to upset the staff.”
Her maid straightened to her full height and planted her hands on her hips.
“Good night, Aileen.”
Her maid took one last look before she left the room.
The welcome quiet did not stop the burn of Claire’s cheeks with humiliation. The room became her private sanctum, one she might never leave.
She tried to lose her thoughts in the novel. When she turned the page, she stared at the first paragraph over and over again. It was no use trying to concentrate on anything but Alex and his staff’s penchant for her curse. For once in her life, she had dared to hope the curse was over. Alex had been wonderfully kind this evening, and she’d naïvely assumed his staff would see his attention as acceptance.
Uneasy, she wandered to the window and raised the sash. The light wind delivered the sweet smells of spring, encouraging her to take a deep breath of the fresh night air. When something stirred behind her, she turned and found Alex with a bottle and two glasses.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?”
Her breath caught at the sight of him—perfection personified. He stood relaxed without his evening coat or waistcoat. His white linen shirt opened at the collar, revealing a hint of sun-kissed skin and a slight dusting of black hair. She let her gaze travel down his broad shoulders to his narrow hips.
The earlier pulsing in her belly returned. “Please come in.” She walked toward a pair of azure damask chairs that faced the fire and waved her hand for him to join her while her heart skipped with excitement. She felt like a moth flying close to the light. She knew better but couldn’t resist the allure.
Alex walked to the chair and shrugged his shoulders. “I thought you might like a drink of your family’s whisky before bed.”
“Are you trying to see me tipsy?”
“If I did, what would you do?” Alex put the bottle and glasses on the table in front of her as if he were offering her a gift.
Claire ignored the question. She poured a finger of whisky for both of them. They raised their glasses and saluted each other. Alex drained his in one swallow, while she took a small sip to savor the smoky flavor.
Alex poured another. With a relaxed ease, he sat in the chair, and she followed suit. “Did your mother’s family distill this whisky?”
She nodded, then closed her eyes as the fragrance of malted barley fermenting stirred her memories. “I only visited the distillery once. My grandfather was so proud whenever a new barrel was ready. He gave a bottle to everyone who visited. Do you like it?”
“It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.” Alex leaned back, and a smile broke across his lips. “How are you settling in?”
“Well, thank you. The house is beautiful, and your staff is everything efficient and attentive. I couldn’t ask for more.”
With Alex in her room, it shrank in size. His attention entranced her, and she didn’t trust herself with him. Whether he knew it or not, he held too much power over her desire for his tenderness. With little effort on his part, she would make a fool of herself. Restless, she stood to return to the window and walked by his chair.
With an indulgent grasp of her fingers, he laced them with his own. Claire looked at their intertwined fingers. He had strong hands with long fingers, almost double the size of hers. She let his fingers play with hers while she attempted to relax.
“You’re thinking too much.”
She raised her gaze to his.
“You’re like me. You pace when you’re unsettled.” The low hum in his voice soothed the tightness building in her chest. “Last night I stopped by to say good night, but I’m not certain you remembered.”
“No, I was too tired.”
“I hung your witching ball in your window.” He pointed to a miniature bowed window above her bed, where the glass sphere rested against the center of the windowpane. He brought her hand to his lips. “I want you to feel comfortable here.”
How could he turn something so silly into something so sweet and lovely? “You did that yourself?”
He nodded.
“Alex, the staff—” She cleared the frog bouncing in her throat and slipped her fingers from his.
With a quick tug, Alex pulled her onto his lap and into his arms. He traced his finger along her lips before tilting her chin upward. He leaned down and kissed her slowly.
Claire could taste his whisky, smooth and smoky, with a touch of the forbidden. As she sank into his kiss, all her thoughts focused on his lips on hers. Their kiss along with his heat stripped any hope she had of hiding his effect on her. Good God, she was undisciplined to allow his touch without thought to where the actions would lead. When she’d left London, she’d forgotten to bring any good sense with her.
He lifted his mouth from hers and kissed her cheek before he pulled her close to him. He took a deep breath. He slowly ran his lips along the outline of her jaw. “Claire, I don’t want to talk about the staff at this moment.”
Whatever this was between them was happening too quickly. “You don’t believe me, but I don’t have much experience.” She hesitated, her defenses stripped away. “I’m not certain what you want, let alone what I want.”
“Maybe together we can find answers.” Alex pressed a kiss
into her palm. “We won’t do anything you don’t want.” His gray eyes had turned the color of dark smoke. “We’ll just get comfortable with one another. Hmm?”
She nodded.
He picked her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and placed her on her bed.
Claire’s heart raced as his knee came to rest beside her hip. He pulled his shirt over his head. Nothing would give her greater pleasure than to be held and comforted in his arms. She wanted to feel his hands touching and caressing every part of her. For years she’d yearned for this night, but not like this—not if he had doubts. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the right words to stop this from continuing.
When she opened her eyes, her breath caught at the sight of his chest, chiseled with muscle, fully defined from his shoulders to his waist. Her gaze traced the subtle patterns until a small line of hair beckoned her to follow its path below the fall of his breeches. The urge to explore took hold. She raised her hand tentatively, then pulled back.
Alex grasped her fingers, then brought them to his lips. “Touch me.” His warm breath still carried the scent of whisky as it caressed her fingers. “Touch anywhere you like.”
Claire spread her fingers across his chest. His skin was hot, and the sinewy muscles flexed under the light touch of her exploration. He must enjoy physical labor and the outdoors. Something else she had to learn about him. She took her time and clasped his shoulders with both hands.
He encaged her body with his, resting his weight on his forearms. With deliberate ease, he lowered his mouth to hers and lightly brushed his lips against hers.
Desire pooled in her belly as she concentrated on his full lower lip.
He teased her lips by tracing his tongue over the seam of her mouth before he coaxed her to open. With little resistance, she let him take control. His tongue danced with hers, slow and languid.
Claire attempted to return the kiss and twined her fingers into his soft hair. The movement of his mouth against hers was like a waltz. He stopped and looked at her. Unable to read his face, she felt adrift. She had no idea what to do. “What do you want from me?”
The Bad Luck Bride Page 13