by Gayle Eden
“Working?” She asked when he sat back. Her eyes scanned the cluttered desk before she took a seat across from him.
“Yes. I’ve neglected it of late.”
“May I interrupt for a moment?”
“Of course.” He scanned her face, a bit lower, noticing the camisole under the lacy blouse, having lost track of hours he would rather have been touching that skin peeking through, rather than finding reasons not to.
She rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, her sherry eyes direct, although he sensed a hint of gruffness in her voice when she said, “I should like to buy a country home.”
He blinked. “All of my homes are yours, Alex.”
She grimaced. “Well, yes. In a way they are.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand?” He did not.
She chewed her lip a moment, and then offered, “You have said that you do not care to actually dwell at any of your holdings, during the off season. If they do not attract you, I certainly will not care to retreat to them myself. You know somewhat how we adore our time at Hawksmoor—”
“I have no objection to your visiting your father’s estate. In fact, he has invited us both—”
“I know that. I intend to.”
He watched her get up and followed her figure as she walked around the study, eyeing shelves. A frown settled whilst Edmund tried to read her mood and thought her much too evasive.
She murmured, “You have some objection to my owning a property?”
“You may bloody well have a dozen, Alex. But your reason escapes me.”
“I know that,” her mutter was dry, which further confused him.
Edmund watched the light play amid the lighter strands of hair escaping around her ears. “You are the blunt one, Alexandria.”
She turned her head sharply, meeting his eyes.
Edmund uttered, “Spit it out.”
“Very well. I would like to take a week away from London and look at properties that might suit me.”
“I see.” Edmund felt his stomach tightening. He probed her expression, realizing his own had grown remote. “I assumed you would go to Hawksmoor if you needed a break from…London.”
“Val will come with me.”
“Will she?” He unfolded his frame and walked over to pour a drink. Before downing it, he said coolly, “Of course then, you must have your retreat. You have an unlimited account to spend as you will upon it.”
“Thank you.”
Knocking back the drink, Edmund closed his eyes a moment before he turned. Opening them, he regarded Alex where she now stood, hands lightly clasped, regarding him.
His hips against the mahogany table, he muttered, “Just how often do you intend to...ah, retreat, Alex?”
“I assume you expect to do the seasons, at least the longer social season. There are the obligations to tour your estates. Visiting others. I’m sure I don’t know.” She seemed a bit irritated. “It’s not important, is it? So much that the fact that one will exist, suitable to rustication…”
“No,” he answered distracted. “It’s not important.”
She smiled, strained. It did not reach her eyes. Edmund was tenser by the second. Trying to bloody read into the odd request—odd for someone like Alex whom he would assume wanted time with her father and family.
He did not know exactly what she was about. His cynicism said she was looking for a way to live separately from him. A life more suited her, than the one he’d forced her into by marriage. Edmund was not a fool. He knew his mistakes. He was aware that Alex resented him—and was angry with him. In spite of the passion, she expressed no joy at being his wife.
He had partly been honest, as to the reasons they had kept that frantic schedule when she had arrived. Being seen together, out in public, it was the best way to squash rumors. However, part of it had been his own test, to see if she would be able to handle her role as Countess. It was not something he was now proud of. Nevertheless, her circles were now higher….
Alex did not give a damn for them, true. However, they were part of the world he had to move in. His aloofness was an example to her, to show her how to protect her private self, in the social world. However, Edmund discerned that to Alexandria, it only meant that he was the distant earl, the cold and formal man, in character.
Edmund was not so sure she was not right. He was not doing well at intimacy, opening up with her. He had only done so when pushed by his desire for her. His heart was beating too hard, no matter how calm his expression. His stomach was tense around the brandy he’d just drank.
“Next week then,” he murmured. “I’ll make the arrangements. Two footmen will go as well, your maid, and I assume one for your sister?”
“Yes.” She seemed to be agreeing to that, as a concession.
Edmund did not bloody care. He would not have her gadding about without some protection. The countryside was not London, but it had its dangers.
He scanned her face again, sensing that evasion still there. “Any expenditure, I will see to. You of course have a large allowance.”
“Do I?” Her brow rose in true surprise.
He scowled. “Of course.”
“I wasn’t sure. Since you had my gowns and things made.”
His jaw tightened.
Her eyes met his and held. “I had my own account, you see. I did not like asking anyone for money. But I wasn’t sure what remained mine after the marriage.”
“You still have that account. As well as, a generous allowance from me. I did not take your inheritance, Alex.” Edmund knew he had snapped that out, but he assumed her father made that plain to her as soon as she came to town. Apparently not.
“Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me.” He felt his teeth grinding. “You were a woman of independent means when we wed and I had no intention of changing that. When you became my wife, another account was opened to cover anything you desired.”
“A dowry—”
“Was not necessary.” He shook his head.
She wet her lips, looked around and then turned back to him. The way her eyes went up and down him made Edmund hot, at the same time he was angrier than he could ever remember being. Not cold anger, but the hot kind that only this woman provoked. Even when she pricked his temper, he wanted to grab her and ravish her.
She must have read something in his eyes for she husked suddenly in very different tones, “Shall you lock the door, or shall I?”
Christ, but the woman provoked him in too many ways.
He needed to get to the bottom of this.
He needed to talk to her.
Her fingers were on the buttons of that lace shirt, when he turned and locked the door.
Edmund reached her in two strides.
To hell with the bloody buttons.
Cupping her face, he kissed her, his tongue ravishing indeed. It only took that little catch in her breath, her hand in his hair, to have him lifting her, and pinning her against the nearest wall.
The next white-hot moments, his hands were everywhere. Buttons scattered on the floor. He moaned, having a mouth full of breast, feeling her pull his hair harder. Edmund panted amid her own moans and accelerated breaths. He skimmed that skirt up over thigh length stockings. His hand found her sex, sleek and wet.
“Edmund…” He heard that whimper before his mouth covered hers again. After freeing his full and throbbing cock, he slid her higher up the wall, leaned in and thrust up into her.
Solid and deep, he flexed into the soft heat, his hands holding her legs apart and her own hands pulling his head back by her hold on his mane. Her whimper was hungry and aroused, sexual and greedy. Edmund was greedy himself—having built up hour by hour since the last time, and having the chaos of emotions inside of him.
He could not even think of her as his Countess, his wife, in any formal terms, during those moments. She was Alexandria, wild and passionate, and sexually ravenous.
When the climax stole upon him, Edmund
pressed into her, his frame holding her against the wall while fire raced from his feet to his head. His breaths bouncing off the wood panel, he smelled the scent of her, of their sex. It aroused him again. Nevertheless, he had the mind to be half way gentle whilst he leaned back and separated their bodies.
They were parted long enough to make use of the water decanter with a handkerchief he handed her. Edmund, knowing his own instinct to pull away, to start thinking, led her over to the far side and the leather sofa.
He took in the dishevel she did not try to repair. Indeed, he had relieved the blouse of its buttons so that it was wide and only the silk camisole covered those hard tipped breasts. Her hair was loose, face and eyes flushed. He eased her back against the arm, leaning over her and kissing her softer, supple and sleek. His hand skimmed up her leg, lifting the skirts high—and though he could have stroked for hours, the soft skin above those stockings, his aim was the swollen nerves he petted. Her soft curls brushed his fingers.
Lifting and watching her face, eyeing that well kissed mouth, her half-mast eyes, Edmund whispered, “You’ll miss this when you’re away from me.”
Her fingers reached down and covered his. Her eyes closed she arched her neck and husked, “I’ll miss you doing it.”
The thought of her pleasuring herself, the visual of her in sexual abandon, so aroused Edmund, that as soon as he brought her to climax, he freed himself and brought her to sit upon his lap, his sex rubbing up between the slick lips of hers.
In a drugged arousal herself, she rose higher and took him inside, saying hushed and tight, “Don’t tease us, Edmund. We want each other.”
“Yes.” He angled his spine, grasped her hips and put his own head back in abandon. When Alex began to ride him, Edmund growled softly, “Every night, Alex. Until you leave.”
He heard her moan on a down stroke, “Yes, God yes, Edmund. Every night.”
They did not make dinner. Nor did Edmund get any work done. In the wee hours of the morning, they went to his bed and made love until daylight.
After looking into her chambers and finding them empty, neither her maid, nor his Lordship’s valet, disturbed them.
* * * *
Alex saw Auvary when he returned to town. It was one day before she and Val were to leave for a township in York, where Van Wyc had found a property for her to view.
In the park, for her early ride, she steeled herself. She recognized Adam’s mount, the way he sat a horse, long before he reached her.
Hoping that she had not destroyed his relationship with Edmund, with her father, with herself too, Alex reined in, awaiting with watchful eyes as he approached.
Auvary looked at ease in body, yet possessing that hard sinewy face that was challenging to read as he rode until he was beside her. Dark eyes scanned over her, part pensive and partly curious, before he murmured, “Countess.”
She winced. “Alex. Please. Just Alex.” She did her own scan of his features. “I care for you, Adam. I am sorry that you and I met whilst I was in such… confusion…”
He almost smiled. His eyes certainly did. He said dryly, “You weren’t confused, Alex. In fact, I suspected almost from the beginning.”
“How—”
He grunted and rested his hands on the pommel. “Both you and Edmund did a poor job of hiding the attraction. You mostly. However, Edmund I have known for years. I knew he wanted you, even before I put the rest together.”
“I’m sorry. I was not trying to use you. And I really do feel I am not the one for you.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He smiled then, nearly showing a dimple. “My heart is intact. My pride too.”
She sighed loud.
“Edmund needs someone lively and passionate in his life. He does not truly desire to be like his father, who was indeed a cold man and stingy with affection. Nevertheless, sometimes—his own self-preservation prevents him from deepening the bonds of those who care for him, aside from his sister. Much of that is because they share that past.”
He kneed his horse to move on, but said in parting, “Edmund is a good and loyal man, Alex. You are not the choice he would have made, so that tells me you have reached an unguarded place no other has. Free him from the past.”
Alex turned her horse, but sat there watching him ride on. Auvary was a deep man, a somewhat brooding one who needed a strong woman to help him cope with the pain he likely had to keep running from. She hoped he found it.
Her mind drifted over the nights of Edmund’s lovemaking. Sometimes it was at dawn, after returning from a ball; twice he came to her in the bathing room before she had dressed for a formal to-do, while he was staying in to work. The sex was intense and passionate. She tried to cling to that once they were outside the bedroom. He wore his mask so well and was so very good at that distant civility, even around the servants.
Alex drove herself daft with doubts.
Riding on, finally, she was both excited and dreading the departure. She could very well fail to make any difference, or find somewhere they could become an intimate and close couple.
Alex was too in love with him, to not try however.
* * * *
The baggage loaded, Alex stood on the street with Edmund, awaiting the coach that collected Valerie. She was dressed in a traveling suit of forest green, her hat a saucy thing having a front brim to shade her eyes. Others, neighbors, and addresses beyond, were exiting the city already for country estates, thus the traffic was quite congested and street noise at an elevated level.
“Here it is,” Edmund said, moving a bit toward the back of the coach, the one carrying footmen, maids, and baggage.
By his elbow when the other arrived, Alex almost smiled seeing Van Wyc on horseback, dressed in long leather coat and obvious traveling ware, just behind the coach. She knew her father had likely insisted he go, despite the brawny footmen and seasoned drivers they had. Moreover, she could guess that Val would be quite dismayed, since she deduced her sister was finally coming out of her numbness to see Van Wyc as the man he was.
Not only that, she suspected Val was putting together finally what that (anger) was she accused Van Wyc of, and poor Val was completely thrown and confused by it all.
Tipping his leather hat to the Earl, Van Wyc and Edmund had a conversation whilst Alex stepped up to the door and met Val’s eyes. Her sister wore a deep purple and black gown, a traveling coat, and a stripe bonnet of the same hues.
“He’ll scare off any highway men or thief, I reckon.” Alex’s eyes danced.
Val flushed but muttered, “I suppose there is that.”
Alex made to open the door and get in. However, her gloved hand was covered. She looked at Edmund who stopped her, her eyes already devouring him over breakfast this morning. He was dressed for his club and for some reason he seemed more tawny and sleek, his hair deeper black, and his mouth more sensual.
She never imagined he would actually kiss her on a public street. He had brought her to climax in the dawn hours, spending time teasing her until she was begging. Moreover, looking into his sensual face, she knew he was thinking of that too.
“Be careful. There are inns and taverns, so I have told Jems not to push the horses. Still, the men will escort you at all times.”
“I’ve traveled often before, Edmund. I will be careful.”
His hand still held her gloved one, he was gazing down at her, and Alex thought with things in his eyes he wanted to but would not say.
Finally, he nodded and reached, opening the door for her. Alex was in, sitting across from Val, by the widow. He reached in and cupped her head. Although not seen by anyone but Val, he indeed kissed her, passionately, hot enough to stir her senses—and then pulled back. His eyes glittering between sooty lashes, he rasped, “When shall I expect you back?”
She was still catching her breath when she answered, “If I settle upon the property Van Wyc has found, I wished for you to come, and join me there, if you can spare a week?”
Edmund looked genuinely sur
prised, which gave Alex the first indication that he actually thought she was leaving—him—instead of London.
“I’ll be there. Send word.” He released her and was standing once more on the street.
Alex’s eyes clung to his whilst they pulled away.
She was like that, lost in him, until she heard Val say, “He’s in love with you.”
Alex met her gaze. “He desires me.”
Val shrugged and looked out the window. “If you cannot see the changes in him, everyone else can…. Admittedly, he is still somewhat aloof, but it is as if he comes alive when you’re near.”
Alex hoped that was so. She honestly—no, she desperately—did.
* * * *
Rain and fog hampered their journey, although they did make it eventually. After the first pleasant day on the roads however, it was an on and off thing of traveling in storms and on muddy roads, or nights the fog was too thick to go further than the closest Inn.
The sky was overcast and everything wet the morning they finally reached Winfield Abby. Van Wyc, having traveled much of the way in his oilskin cape and wide brim hat, was as relieved as they were when the marker, weathered as it was, announced it within the next mile.
Val, having huddled under a lap robe on and off, looked out the window too. “Let’s hope word reached the staff, however small. A fire and a decent bed and I’ll be thankful.”
Alex nodded and anxiously looked around the countryside, liking what she saw. “I like it. I like this area already.”
“Um.” Val yawned.
Smiling at her sister, honestly having grown weary of travel herself, Alex still felt a stir of excitement. There was lushness and fertile ground here. There was something about the shape and scent that told her she had picked the right place.
Van Wyc was before the coach, riding ahead. Alex settled back, wondering if the poor maids and footmen were even awake. They had not been this far from London in ages and were feeling every mile too.
Soon Alex had her head out the window, drinking in the sight of the mellow stone structure tucked back behind a long drive. On either side, the lawn undulated outward, to the left, a forest, and to the right grazing and fields. The livestock were distant shadows, but the air was alive with sounds of nature and the scent of fall was nutty and earthy.