“As you wish. I mean to remain here for a while longer and cool off. Pleasant dreams.”
She felt herself flush as she made her way from the parlor. She sincerely hoped her dreams would not be as erotic as the one that had awakened her that morning. If they were, she would never survive this confinement.
—
To her gratitude, she passed a fantasy-free night and woke somewhat refreshed. Traherne must be an early riser, for he was already at the breakfast table when she came downstairs.
As they began their meal, he proposed they explore the grounds afterward. “I fear I can’t ride without further damaging my side but I can traipse about well enough.”
“I would like that,” Venetia agreed readily, eager to see more of the countryside and escape the isolation of the cottage.
When they set out, the spring morning was crisp and fresh; morning sunlight quickly burned off the slight mist that hung over the meadows. Out of concern for his injury, they strolled the footpaths at an easy pace, beside a meandering stream.
When they reached a charming stone bridge, Traherne pointed toward a gully in the distance and explained about the geography of the district.
“The hills to the southwest of us are riddled with limestone caves, some quite large. Our underground spring here carved out a smaller cave aeons ago. I mean to wait until this afternoon to risk bathing. The water is hot enough, but it will be more enjoyable once the air is warmer.”
Venetia wasn’t certain then if she would accompany him, but it was one of the most pleasant mornings she could remember, certainly since her banishment from England.
Another surprise awaited her when they returned to the cottage. No sooner had they entered than the estate’s tenants came to call.
When the middle-aged couple introduced themselves as Colonel Randall Langford and his wife, Marie, Mrs. Langford practically gushed with joy at having an earl and countess staying on her back doorstep. She went on and on with embarrassing effusiveness about how honored she was to meet her ladyship, and she was not too old to try to flirt with Traherne.
“There will be many a broken heart among the fair sex,” Mrs. Langford declared, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “I follow London society with great interest—the papers are delivered to us monthly—but I had not heard the news that you had tied the knot, my lord. You have long been considered the biggest prize on the Marriage Mart.”
Unexpectedly, Traherne slid his arm around Venetia’s waist and drew her close. “I am fortunate to have won the biggest prize, madam,” he said, sending Venetia an intimate, adoring look, evidently meant to convey the message that they were madly in love.
“Well, it is a sad day for the other ladies, I am sure,” Mrs. Langford replied with a sigh, her cheery friendliness suggesting that she hadn’t made the connection with Venetia’s scandal two years ago. “We wish to invite you to dine with us one evening and hope you will grace our humble circle with your attendance at the local assembly on Friday evening.”
“You will understand if I want to keep my bride all to myself.”
Colonel Langford stepped in. “Of course, of course. We recall what it is like to be newly wedded. Come, my dear, we are interrupting his lordship’s nuptials. They are likely eager to return to their boudoir.”
At the images of them remaining abed indulging in sexual romps, Venetia felt herself flushing. However, when their visitors had left and Traherne released her, she felt an unmistakable pang of disappointment. Naturally she saw the wisdom of maintaining the pretense of being happily wed since it increased the likelihood they would be left alone, but for a moment she couldn’t help wondering how wonderful it would feel if her husband’s adoration were real.
He must have seen her expression for he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You didn’t wish to accept their invitations, did you?”
“No, they were kindly meant, but I would rather not be the object of so much avid attention.”
“Nor would I. I don’t want to advertise our presence here.”
Perhaps it was his casual manner that swayed her, but after luncheon when Traherne asked her to accompany him to the hot springs to bathe, Venetia went willingly. In truth, she was concerned about him reopening his wound and thought he might need help rebandaging it.
Or at least that was what she told herself. It helped that he carried only one towel, which suggested that he didn’t expect her to bathe with him.
His manner remained friendly and nonchalant as he guided her along the footpath to the gully and helped her down the rocky slope. The entrance was little more than an irregular hole in the wall, and they both had to bend to squeeze through the low archway.
Once her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness inside, she saw they were in a domed hollow.
“The pool cave to the rear of here,” he explained, “is high enough for us to stand upright, but we will need a light to make our way there.”
To her left, an old, rusty lantern sat on a narrow wooden shelf, and when Traherne struck a flint and lit the wick, the flame lit the walls and roof with a welcome glow. Taking her hand, he led her across the grotto to a passageway. “It is not far to the pool, but step carefully.”
She wore sturdy half boots, but the sloping ground was wet and she had to stoop the entire way. The tunnel widened at the end and opened up to a much larger chamber. The air seemed warmer here and gave off a mineral smell that was not unpleasant.
This cave was darker, with no daylight filtering in from above. The lamplight illuminated shadowy walls at the rear and ragged stalactites in colorful hues of orange and green and white dripping down from the vaulted ceiling.
“How pretty,” Venetia was surprised into saying.
“Yes,” he agreed, holding the lantern higher, the better for her to see.
In front of her was a roughly oval pool some twenty feet long set at an angle. The black surface reflected a gold sheen, but when she followed Traherne to the edge, the dark green water looked clear as it lapped at banks of smooth rock. The bottom looked to be smooth as well.
“Is it very deep?”
“Perhaps three or four feet. The spring flows from the far end and empties there to your left. At some recent point in time, the course of the stream must have shifted, or the entrance would have been more hollowed.”
She could hear the musical trickle as the overflow disappeared into a crevasse in the wall. When Traherne set the lantern on the ground and began to undress, Venetia waited while he removed his shirt and unwound his bandage. Then she inspected his wound.
“The flesh does not look as angry as yesterday. You will live, I suspect.”
“Biddy’s miracle salve must be working. Now let’s see if his prescription of a mineral bath is similarly effective.”
While he finished undressing, she sat down on the stone bank at the pool’s edge and averted her gaze. She heard him slip slowly into the water, then the hiss of his breath.
Concerned, she jerked her gaze back and found him grimacing. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. The heat just stung at first.”
He submerged himself completely for a moment and came up again, slicking wet hair back from his face.
Venetia watched as water cascaded over his torso. His wet skin shimmered in the golden lamplight, accenting the power and grace of his lean, muscular form.
Beautiful, she thought rather breathlessly. He had a magnificent body that put the classical statues to shame, with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and hips….
Her gaze skittered away. The pool was higher than waist-deep but did little to conceal his lower extremities and the dark hair that arrowed over his groin.
Before she could do more than swallow the dryness in her throat, he sank down again in order to float lazily.
“You should join me,” Traherne suggested. “The temperature is pleasant, no warmer than a hot bath.” When she hesitated, he added mildly, “There is no reason to be prudish, love. It is not as if we
haven’t slept together.”
It was precisely because they had slept together that her senses were on full alert, and his brazen nudity was only making matters worse. But she thought she had an appropriate retort: “Forgive me if I am not a femme fatale like your mistress, Lady X.”
“Former mistress,” he said, unfazed. “You can at least take a risk and dangle your legs in the water.”
He was right, Venetia acknowledged. She was only denying herself by letting her reservations dominate her inclinations.
Raising her skirts to her knees, she pulled off her boots and stockings, then swung around on the stone bank and lowered her legs up to her calves. Venetia sighed with pleasure. The silken caress of the water felt divine.
“I told you so,” Traherne said with satisfaction. “You would enjoy a full bath even more.”
“Thank you, but I am content where I am.”
A few moments later, he stood upright, his body glistening. He was closer now, near enough that his male attributes were clearly visible beneath the surface. She could see his manhood thrusting hard and proud against his belly.
Venetia felt herself blushing hotly at the sight.
“Your modesty does you credit,” he commented, which made her eyes narrow.
“Are you mocking me?”
“Never.”
“I don’t believe you. You are trying to goad me again.”
“Is it working?”
His mouth twitched into a crooked grin, which ignited a deep need in her to smile back. “Could you please turn around, Traherne?”
He let out an exaggerated sigh but obliged, giving her his muscled back. The change of view was not particularly helpful, however. Venetia couldn’t prevent her gaze from drifting lower. His buttocks looked hard as well, and firm to the touch.
Apparently he wasn’t willing to leave off provoking her, either. “You can see that I am in urgent need of a nurse,” he remarked casually.
“What do you mean?”
“My loins are in a state of acute pain. If you were to fondle me, it would serve to distract me.”
“I offered yesterday morning. You declined.”
“I have changed my mind.”
“Well, so have I.”
Traherne cast a glance over his shoulder. “It is your duty as my wife to succor me.”
“We have only a marriage of convenience,” Venetia retorted. “Duty doesn’t apply.”
“Then take pity on me. I am wounded and weak, as helpless as a babe.”
She laughed outright at that. “You are as helpless as a tiger.”
“Perhaps ‘babe’ is not accurate. But my self-esteem has been sorely damaged by my injury. Employing my skills as a lover will give me the opportunity to prove my manhood. It is the least you could do.”
She had no ready reply, but she was enjoying herself immensely, Venetia realized. Bantering with him was not only exhilarating, it was delicious and tantalizing. If she didn’t take care, it could become addictive.
“You are not luring me into the water, my lord. And I am not falling prey to your charm. No doubt you have enchanted half of England’s female population, but I prefer not to join their ranks.”
“Only half?”
The blatant sensuality in his sultry blue eyes was impossible to ignore. The way he looked at a woman was utterly sinful.
“Three-quarters, then. You cannot count children.” She shook her head. “You are too accustomed to having your own way. I feel I should oppose you on general principal. Besides, I have scruples about surrendering to a shameless libertine.”
Eyeing her reproachfully, he slid back into the water. “I should make allowances for your mistrust. Your antipathy toward men is excusable, given your history.”
“I don’t harbor antipathy toward all men.”
“Just rakehells.”
“Deceitful rakehells in particular. Can you blame me? I nearly wed one. It is not at all heartening to know your betrothed preferred a prostitute to a marriage bed with you.”
His gaze turned strangely tender. “No, I cannot blame you. But not all rakehells are deceitful.”
“I suppose not,” Venetia agreed grudgingly. “All the same, I refuse to succumb to your blandishments.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You do realize what an irresistible challenge that is.”
Venetia’s pulse suddenly leapt as she locked gazes with him. When Traherne turned fully to face her, she stared mutely, feeling the fresh sizzle of heat between them.
As she floundered for a retort, his voice softened to a murmur. “I’ll wager I could make you want me if I set my mind to it.”
He was arrogant and outrageously self-confident, yet for good reason. “That is one wager I don’t intend to make,” Venetia hastened to say.
“Why are you so set against lovemaking? I can safely predict you would enjoy carnal relations.”
“I am perfectly happy without.”
“I doubt that. You clearly don’t know what you are missing.”
Except she did know. Or at least she had a strong inkling. Just yesterday morning Traherne had given her a powerful taste of what his lovemaking would be like. “I will forgo the opportunity to discover it, thank you. Furthermore, our marriage is not a true one, so there should be no consummation.”
“We needn’t consummate our union to enjoy ourselves.”
Venetia’s lips curved. “Is everything about pleasure for you?”
“Certainly not. But pleasure is preferable to the alternative. And you deserve some pleasure in your life after the past two years.”
“Oh, so now you are thinking about me?”
His slow, lazy smile was absolutely devastating. “Not entirely. But I do have your best interests at heart. You are my wife now. My countess. I have an obligation to ensure your well-being and happiness.”
“I hereby relieve you of the obligation.”
“What if I don’t wish to be relieved?” He considered her thoughtfully. “Before our union, you were resolved on becoming a dried-up spinster. Is that still your aim?”
Venetia eyed him narrowly, taken aback by the seriousness of his question. For a change, she sensed he was not trying to bait her. Even so, she had no immediate answer for him.
When she remained silent, he posed the question a different way. “Do you intend to remain a virgin for the rest of your life?”
“I have not given it much consideration.”
“You should. I know for a fact you are not passionless.”
Her flush was instinctive. “How did we come to be discussing my passion or lack of it?”
“Because you strike me as someone in need of reassurance. Trust me, you have no earthly reason to feel insecure in your appeal. You are one of the most desirable women I have ever known.”
“Ackland did not think so,” she couldn’t help but reply, then bit her tongue, ashamed of the hurt in her tone.
Evidently Traherne had taken note of her bitterness, though, for he said frankly, “Ackland was a fool.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “He was your friend.”
“He was still a fool for giving you up—”
Traherne seemed to catch himself then, for he cut off the remark and his mouth curled wryly. “I’ve had enough of bathing for one day—and enough sexual torment as well.” He waded toward her. “Do you mean to watch me dry off?”
“No.” Snatching up her stockings and boots, she scrambled to her feet and backed away.
His soft chuckle followed her retreat across the cave. “Never fear, I promise I won’t seduce you unless you wish me to.”
Unless you wish me to.
The words repeated in her head like a delicious threat, which disturbed her nearly as much as his unsettling comments. But Venetia busied herself putting on her shoes and stockings while he dressed, and by the time they left the cave, she had willed herself to composure. She even helped him apply a fresh bandage when they returned to the cottage.
An
d when that chore was done, she congratulated herself. She had faced Traherne’s most potent temptations yet and felt almost confident that she could manage to resist him for the remainder of their time here together.
Almost.
—
He was treading in dangerous waters, Quinn reflected as he watched Venetia leave his bedchamber after seeing to his wound.
Yes, she presented a unique challenge—a woman who professed not to want him, a bride who insisted on sleeping alone. Yes, her resistance stung his pride and brought out the conqueror in him. But regrettably, the issue was far more complicated.
He was being lured in emotionally, damn and blast it. He cared, more than he’d realized.
He also relished her company as much as he’d feared he would. Venetia was…strangely comfortable. He needn’t treat her like delicate porcelain, eschewing frankness and honesty or withholding barbs out of concern that he might offend her feminine sensibilities. Instead she responded to his teasing with worthy gibes of her own, with humor brightening her luminous eyes. Her directness, too, was utterly novel and refreshing after all the toadying sycophants who had fawned over him since he was in short coats, trying to win his favor.
The truth was, he was delighted by her mind and her body both. Despite the strain on his loins, he felt pleasure simply being with her.
Admittedly he’d never felt so fiercely attracted to any other woman. Nor had he ever struggled so hard against physical need. Since their first night together as man and wife, he’d spent his time in an acute state of arousal, with self-command and desire warring brutally in his midsection.
Remembering the searing pleasure he’d felt bringing Venetia to climax that first morning together was especially stirring. There had been wariness in those amazing eyes of hers, but also curiosity and need…and so much vulnerability and wonder in her face.
Her vulnerability drew him in, kindling an instinctive need to protect her that vied powerfully with his desire to possess her. Most of all, he wanted to expose the passionate, sensual woman beneath her defensive, guarded exterior.
She had no faith in her desirability, Quinn was well aware. Her self-esteem had been wounded too deeply by Ackland’s betrayal.
The Art of Taming a Rake (Legendary Lovers #4) Page 14