Mortified and ashamed of her burning desire to see what went on below his navel, Connie still risked raising the covers a little higher to have a look. Aaron murmured something incomprehensible and adjusted his position. Terrified of the prospect of being caught, Connie whipped her hand away and then deftly slipped out of the bed with the minimum amount of fuss and the maximum amount of speed.
For one dreadful moment, his eyelids fluttered and she feared that he would open them. Being caught like this, when it would be quite obvious to him that she had spent the night in his bed, was too awful a prospect to have to consider. What would she say to him? How would he react? How would she react? Already she could feel the embarrassed blush branding her skin, like an angry red confession of her carnal desires. Decisively, she turned and bolted for the door, opening and closing it with as much stealth as she could muster, before she fled to the sanctuary of her own bedchamber. Once there, she covered her burning face with her hands and cringed at her unashamedly wanton behaviour. Thank goodness he did not know.
Chapter Fifteen
Aaron’s eyes drifted open slowly. Only then did he realise that something was amiss. For once, apparently, he had woken up naturally. It was broad daylight and he was completely rested. He was not sweating or breathing heavily or shouting in a blind panic. Instead his thoughts were completely dominated by much more pleasing thoughts, like long legs, round bottoms and magnificent red hair. He was curled up on his side, completely content.
He had forgotten how good it felt to wake like this. He felt invigorated, energised and, to his utter surprise, completely aroused. He must have been dreaming about his new wife again, he thought with a sigh. She had begun to crop up in them quite a bit in the last few days. Usually, in those welcome dreams, they were back in that library and she was kissing him—except in those dreams they were not interrupted by an audience so he was able to properly ruin her. That must be the reason why his first waking thoughts had strayed to her. So far this week he had already dreamed about ruining her in every room in Ardleigh Manor, once in the stables and, most spectacularly, out in the open where his mind had conjured up a truly wonderful image of Connie, that tight green riding habit rucked up around her waist and his body buried deep inside her.
He allowed himself the rare luxury of enjoying the whole miraculous experience of this glorious morning by plumping his pillow, closing his eyes and burrowing further under the blankets. They smelled deliciously of summer roses. The heavy, cabbage type of roses that draw all of the bees and can barely hold the weight of their fragrant red petals on their delicate stalks. Aaron loved that smell. It reminded him of Connie. She always smelled of roses, too.
At that thought, Aaron cracked open one eye. Was his mind able to conjure up smells now, too? The scent was too vivid to be merely a memory, no matter how erotic the dream might have been. To make sure he buried his nose in his pillow and took a healthy sniff. His bed definitely smelled of Connie. It was then that he saw the solitary strand of long copper hair lying on the empty pillow next to him. He raised himself up on to his elbow and stared at it. There was definitely a head-shaped indent in that pillow, too, as if she had been there.
Aaron tried to sort through his hazy memories of his dream. She had definitely been in it. In his imagination he could still here her voice. Everything is all right, Aaron. You were just having a bad dream. Except he now had the distinct feeling that he had not imagined it. She had been there. That was why he could smell her perfume in his bed and on his skin. He had not imagined the feel of her spooned against him in the night. He had slept with her in his arms and she had chased his nightmares away.
Connie could chase his nightmares away? That thought was as humbling as it was terrifying. Humbling because he realised that she must have seen him in the throes of one, comforted him and brought him back from the brink. Terrifying because he had never, ever wanted another soul to know about them or to see him like that. Terrified. Lost. Inconsolable. Mad.
What if he had said things to her? Whispered his deepest, darkest secret? Confessed the truth about himself and what he had done?
Suddenly, his morning did not feel quite so perfect and he sat up, feeling more vulnerable than he was comfortable with. There was no point in putting it off, he realised. If she had seen him like that then she would expect some answers. Feeling suddenly queasy, Aaron rang the bell for his valet. The only way he could know how to answer her questions was if he found out what he had inadvertently told her, then try to limit the damage that he might have done. There was no point in trying to avoid her—even though he desperately wanted to.
* * *
As soon as he was dressed he headed downstairs in search of her. As she had been yesterday, he found her in the dining room.
‘Good morning, Connie. Might I have a word?’
As soon as her head whipped around to look at him, she blushed as red as a tomato and struggled to meet his eye.
‘Certainly, Aaron.’
She excused herself from the battalion of servants and scooted past him back into the hallway beyond. Aaron was more than a little confused as he followed her at some pace towards the morning room. He had expected disgust or disappointment to be her first reaction, not acute embarrassment. It was almost as if he had just caught her doing something wrong rather than the other way around.
Once they were alone, she sat stiffly on one of the chairs and peaked up at him. Her neck was all blotchy, she was blinking rapidly and she looked as guilty as it was physically possible for a person to look. She waited for him to speak like a condemned man waiting for the axe to fall. ‘Is everything all right, Connie?’ he asked out of sudden concern.
She smiled a brittle smile back at him. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’
Aaron decided to take the bull by the horns and broach the subject. Clearly she was rubbing off on him as his usual response would be to go for a ride and hope that it all went away.
‘I know that you came to visit me last night.’
He watched her face closely for her reaction to see if he had disgraced himself. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped a little and then she positively combusted with a blush so ferocious Aaron could almost feel the heat of it. All at once she buried her face in her hands and moaned.
‘You were having a nightmare. I came in to wake you from it. I didn’t mean for anything else to happen!’
‘And did anything else happen?’
Aaron held his breath and waited for her to condemn him. She was still covering her face so all he could see were the tips of her red ears and the top of her copper head. It was difficult to gauge her reaction like that.
‘Nothing untoward,’ she said after a pause. ‘I woke you up and settled you back down.’
‘Did I say anything?’ Because that was the crux of the matter.
Connie shook her head, which was still covered by her hands. The relief he felt was so intense that it took him a moment to realise that her face was still covered and the skin he could see was all pink and blotchy. It really was the most extreme behaviour for a person who had simply awoken someone from a nightmare and then toddled off to their own bed.
‘Did I do anything untoward?’ Perhaps he had enacted part of the shadowy dream that lingered in his mind and ravished her. If he had, then she was certainly not furious with him and that thought buoyed him. If Connie was open to a good ravishing, then he would be only too happy to comply. She dashed those hopes immediately.
‘Of course not. You were asleep, silly.’
‘Then I have to ask, Connie, what has got you all flustered and flushing with mortification—if I neither said nor did anything that I oughtn’t?’
She lowered her fingers just enough for him to see her mortified green eyes. ‘I was not expecting you to be...um...naked.’
‘Did you see my...?’
�
�No!’ she practically shrieked. ‘Fortunately that part of your anatomy remained covered.’
He had not thought she could get any redder, but apparently he was wrong. Aaron’s laughter escaped in a bark. It was both relief at not having to explain about his past and amusement at her lovely and completely innocent reaction to a little bit of bare skin.
‘Stop laughing at me, you wretch!’ She stood up then, her delicate hands clenched into fists that appeared ready to pummel him at any given moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ he managed between guffaws, ‘I don’t mean to laugh.’ But he couldn’t help it. The more annoyed she became at his reaction the more he chuckled. ‘If this is the way you react to the sight of a man’s bare chest, I would love to see what happens when you get an eyeful of the rest of him.’
Connie swatted at him then. It was all so unfair. Once again she was being made to look a complete dimwit in front of Aaron Wincanton. Charming, handsome, eligible Aaron Wincanton!
‘Yes, I am sure that you would find my discomfort hilarious. I’m sure you’ve seen more naked women than most. I’m sure that you have seduced hundreds with your charming words and silly flirting. Well, it is different for ladies. We are not allowed to indulge in such vices. We have to stay pure and chaste for our stupid future husbands and are declared ruined the first time that we even kiss a man!’
His laughter stopped abruptly and he stared at her agog. Connie barged past him. She did not want to see his pity at her ill-conceived confession. Why on earth had she told him that pertinent detail? It would only make her seem even more pathetic and unattractive in his eyes. Poor Constance Stuart. So ugly nobody had ever tried to kiss her.
‘I was the first man to kiss you?’
Connie did not stop walking. She was too ashamed, fearing that she would burst into tears if she stayed. She grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open. Once in the hallway, she mustered the strength to issue one parting salvo.
‘Go to hell, Aaron!’
Then she broke into a run.
Chapter Sixteen
It was no mean feat to avoid Aaron for the rest of the day. As the evening fell, the enormity of facing a table full of guests, alongside her irritating and irresistible husband, was almost too much to bear. Connie considered crying off, but knew that she had too much pride to allow anyone to think that it was too much for her. Now she was sat at her dressing table, staring at her own disappointing reflection, wondering how she was supposed to compete with the other ladies attending the dinner—or, more specifically, her beautiful nemesis Lady Erith.
Mrs Poole, the housekeeper, bustled back into her bedchamber. Connie had asked her if any of the maids were any good at dressing unruly red hair and the older woman had smiled kindly and offered to do it herself. Having been the lady’s maid of the deceased Viscountess of Ardleigh, she had claimed that it would be her pleasure to help. The older woman was wielding a comb and an enormous box of hair pins.
‘Before we start, Lady Constance, have you decided on a gown first? I always think that the hair should complement the cut of the dress.’
Connie shrugged despondently and gestured to the bed. ‘I have narrowed it down to those two.’ Neither one would suddenly make her more attractive. As lovely as the dresses were, her washboard figure and ghastly hair would ruin them.
Mrs Poole studied the two gowns and frowned. ‘If I may be so bold, Lady Constance, why don’t you wear that lovely red dress that I have seen in your closet? I should imagine that you would look magnificent in that.’
‘It’s too bold, Mrs Poole. I am not feeling particularly bold this evening.’ She was terrified and ashamed and felt totally ridiculous. Too vulnerable for crimson.
‘Nonsense! If ever you needed to feel bold, it is tonight. I don’t know what his lordship was playing at, foisting on to you such a task so soon after your arrival. That dress will make a statement.’ There was a sparkle of mischief in the housekeeper’s eyes as she grinned at Connie in the mirror’s reflection. ‘It will let his lordship, and all of those silly guests of his, know that you are not a lady to be trifled with.’
Mrs Poole was apparently an ally and Connie was suddenly hugely grateful. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I am.’
Mrs Poole marched to the wardrobe and retrieved the dress. After eyeing it critically she smiled. ‘I shall just give this to one of the maids to press and then we will do something magnificent with your hair.’
‘Please do not pile it on top of my head. I am quite tall enough and do not need the extra inches.’
* * *
Aaron waited impatiently in the drawing room. Connie had deftly avoided him all day, seemingly too busy with the preparations for tonight’s dinner to even spare him as much as a glance. But he knew he had upset her even though it had certainly not been his intention to do so. The knowledge that he had not only ruined her, but had also been the very first man to kiss her, was all too fresh in his mind. And probably for all of the wrong reasons. He supposed he should feel some shame. But he didn’t. Instead he felt privileged to have been the only man who had known her in that way, possessive even, although he had no right to feel that either. Connie had made it plain enough that she did not want to be married to him and he definitely needed to find a new bride who came with a huge heap of money because he could not think of another way to fill the gaping hole in his finances. Nevertheless, for now she was his and he did not want her to feel sad.
Beside him, his father looked at his pocket watch impatiently. ‘Our guests will be here in a moment and our hostess is still not here to greet them. I bet she will claim a headache or some other sort of malady in order to keep to her rooms. I knew she was not up to the task.’
Aaron turned the old man angrily, ready to tell him off, but Connie sailed into the room, looking lovelier than he could have imagined. The crimson evening gown was simply styled, but no less daring as a result. The gently puffed sleeves were set to sit off her elegant shoulders, the neckline cut so that it swooped low at the front and even lower at the back. Acres of perfect alabaster skin was on display, enhanced by the candlelight, and a stark contrast to the rich colour of the silk. The bodice hugged her body to follow the willowy shape of her figure, whilst the plain skirts were nipped in at the waist before falling in a graceful soft folds. Her glorious hair had been coiled into a smooth and exuberant knot at the base of her neck. Only a few wispy copper tendrils were allowed to hang free, framing her face and emphasising her emerald eyes and plump red mouth. The overall effect was so stunning it rendered him temporarily speechless.
‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ she said with an air of disdain and Aaron realised that haughty Constance had come to dinner. That meant that she was nervous. Already, in such a short time, he knew her moods. Understood them.
‘You look stunning, Connie,’ he said, meaning it. She gave him a polite smile in acknowledgement and he realised that she did not think that he meant it. Was it possible that Constance Stuart lacked confidence in herself? How curious.
She had timed her entrance to perfection because the first carriage was already arriving. She did not want to talk about what had happened this morning. Whilst Aaron understood this, he still would have liked the opportunity to make her feel better about what had transpired. Instead he offered her his arm and escorted her to the hall to greet their guests.
* * *
To begin with Connie did a splendid job as a hostess. As the drawing room began to fill up with his father’s friends, she was polite and charming, chatting with the guests with the ease of a diplomat. It was only when the Earl and Countess of Erith arrived that he saw a chink in her carefully constructed armour.
His father did the honour of introducing them to her. Connie smiled graciously at the earl as he bent to kiss her hand, but her eyes narrowed, and her polite expression froze, the moment she greeted Lady E
rith. Lady Erith inclined her head somewhat coldly towards Connie in response. At that exact moment, Aaron realised that there was no love lost between these two women. In fact, if he was any judge of character, he was almost certain they positively loathed one another. As was expected, Connie ensured that they were both given drinks before she turned away. Sarah, on the other hand, made a beeline for Aaron and draped herself on his arm.
‘I suppose I should congratulate you, Aaron, on your hasty marriage.’
‘Thank you.’ To say anything else would have been unforgivably rude, although the woman clearly had her claws out. ‘I trust you are well, Sarah. How are your delightful children?’ Aaron politely changed the subject.
‘They are thriving, thank you. But how are you? We were all so surprised when you married in such a hurry. And married dear Constance to boot. I never would have put the two of you together.’
Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron saw Connie stiffen at the barb although she pretended not to hear it. She had already been claimed by Sir Gerald, who was no doubt priming himself to bore her to death. His hesitation in answering allowed Sarah to sink her claws further into Connie.
‘What was it that you used to call her again? Oh, I remember—the Ginger Amazonian! And now you are married to her. Isn’t that ironic?’
The patently false tinkling laugh combined with the unnecessary volume of her voice drew the attention of everyone else. Because Sir Gerald had even turned to look, poor Connie was forced to face them and await his response. He saw the brief flash of pain in her eyes whilst Sarah’s danced in malicious triumph. Enough was enough. It was time to put this cat back into her bag. Calmly, he took a sip of his drink.
‘Surely you were not fooled by my petty remarks all those years ago, Sarah? Surely you realised that I was in love with Connie even then?’
Her Enemy At the Altar Page 13