Redgrave sat on the edge of the bed in the room they’d rented for their wedding night at The Boar’s Inn. “Now that we are married, will you tell me who the father of your babe is?”
“What does it matter?” Priscilla preened in front of the mirror.
His jaw tightened, still unable to come to grips with their race to Gretna Green and marriage by a blacksmith. “It matters because I will have to raise the child. It interests me to know who he is.”
Priscilla remained silent as she undid her dress and turned her back to him. “Unlace me, please.” Once her corset was undone, she dropped it to the floor and turned to him in her transparent chemise, leaving nothing to his imagination.
His shy bride.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, because I lost the babe two weeks ago.”
The blood pounded in his head as he jumped from the bed and wrapped his hand around her neck. “I could kill you for that.”
Her eyes brightened, and she ran her tongue over her lips. “I can think of better ways to use your anger.”
Redgrave released her, then turned on his heel and strode from the room.
The door to the alehouse opened and Lady Genevieve, Lady Prudence, Mary, and the dowager duchess stepped through the door. Mary carried a sack, most likely filled with books. She smiled in his direction, but followed her mother to the table where Lady Billingsley and Lady Margaret sat.
Stephenson slumped as his betrothed joined the other ladies.
“Chin up, old man. She will come around. The ladies like a lot of romance. Perhaps a moonlight stroll tonight might be just the thing.” Redgrave downed the last of his ale and shoved the glass away. “Or better yet, make sure her wedding night is memorable.”
He quickly pushed aside the thought of a moonlight stroll for him and Mary, or a wedding night with her spread naked on his bed.
After dinner that evening, the young people once again gathered in the drawing room for games as the older guests retired to the card room.
This time, Redgrave snagged Mary as his partner, and they stood side-by-side as they prepared to walk past a table filled with items starting with each letter of the alphabet. They were to walk past the table, then as quickly as possible, record all the items they could recall. The couple with the most items remembered would be declared the winners.
They walked as slowly as they could, then hurried to two chairs in the corner. Mary began writing as he called off items and she added the ones she remembered.
“Was there an apple? I cannot imagine what else they would use for A, but I don’t remember seeing one,” Redgrave asked as Mary continued to scribble.
She bit her lip as she wrote. “No. There was a map of Africa.”
The devil take it. Was there no relief to be had from Rumbold’s scheme? Was he to encounter a reminder of it every minute?
More couples passed by the table and gathered into pairs to complete their list. Mary put their completed list to the side and picked up her fan. “’Tis warm in here.”
The slight flush to her face only enhanced her appeal. Her lavender gown now gave her wide, expressive eyes a more violet hue. Remembering his advice to Stephenson about a moonlight turn about the garden, he glanced at the crowded room. “May I escort you outside for a breath of air while the others finish their task?”
“Yes, I believe that would be wonderful.” She placed her hand on his arm and they left the room. No one seemed to note their departure, which suited him just fine. With Mary by his side, he could think of much better ways to end the evening than with another nonsensical game.
“Oh, this feels marvelous.” Mary inhaled deeply, her bodice rising and falling with her breaths. “The air is so cool tonight.” She pointed to the sky. “And look, there is a full moon.”
“Yes, beautiful.” His attention was focused on her breasts, much more interesting and beautiful than any full moon. Ever.
They walked along the path leading from the front door to the flower garden on the west side of the house. No flowers would ever smell as sweet as Mary, with the familiar scent of lemons and roses about her.
“Are you enjoying the house party?”
…
Mary tore her eyes away from the beautiful nighttime sky to meet Redgrave’s scrutiny. His piercing blue eyes were nearly navy as he reached up and ran his finger lightly down her cheek. “So soft. So perfect.”
“Yes.”
He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“I am enjoying the party.” The words came out breathless. For some reason she seemed to have more trouble accessing air here in the garden than she had in the stuffy drawing room.
Redgrave’s hand cupped her neck, and he drew her closer. “I’m glad.”
Her brain dulled. “What?”
“I’m glad you are enjoying the party.”
“Oh.”
His other hand moved to caress her cheek. His gaze was as soft as a butterfly’s wing when his head descended. She sucked in a breath, her eyes drifting closed. His lips brushed over hers as he spoke. “I am enjoying it as well.”
The melding of their lips transformed the coolness of the night air to warmth and comfort. He nudged at her lips, and she opened to allow the velvet sweep of his tongue. She was shocked at her eager response to his kiss. Feelings she’d not experienced before swept through her, surprising her in their intensity.
He gathered her in his arms and brought her up tight against his chest. Through her gown and his clothing she felt the thump of his heartbeat, matching her own. He spread his legs apart and slid his hand to her lower back, pulling her against him, the part of her body where moisture had gathered flush up against his hardened flesh. She felt a sense of loss when he released her lips, then showered kisses over her eyelids, nose, and jaw.
Needing something to anchor her, she gripped his arms, felt the muscles under his jacket tighten as he gripped her head and moved it so he could offer a deep kiss. Her knees turned to water, and she clung to him, afraid if he released her she would melt to a puddle at his feet.
His hand slowly moved up her arm to her collarbone, then down to cup her breast. Through her gown, he kneaded the flesh there, molding and shaping. A faint moan escaped her as she felt her nipples tighten when he swept his thumb over the hardened peak.
With a groan, Redgrave wrenched his mouth away, holding her at arm’s length. They were both panting, the noise of their breathing breaking the silence. His head dropped, soft black curls covering his forehead, making her hands itch to run her fingers through the strands.
“I feel as though I should apologize, but nothing seemed more right to me than what we just shared.” He raised his eyes to hers. What she saw there frightened her. Desire, passion. Alarm bells went off in her head, remembering that look on Claremont’s face before he attempted to go further, and how she had fought him.
Mary shook her head, the ability to speak having fled when his lips first met hers. She shivered, her body a wealth of strange feelings. Redgrave pulled her to him once again, this time wrapping his arm around her shoulders and hugging her to his side. “You are chilly. Perhaps we should return to the house.”
How to tell him she wasn’t chilly, but overheated? That the shivering was the result of his kisses and how her body reacted to him. She should not be responding to any man, least of all the one who had run out on her sister and left behind an immense scandal for her family to overcome
But her body chose to ignore the message from her brain.
“Yes, perhaps it is best if we returned to the party.” She offered him a saucy grin. “After all, I am sure we won the game.”
…
Two days later the house party was coming to an end, with the engagement ball to be held that evening. All the ladies were resting in preparation for the culminating event, and the gentlemen had departed to The Ale and Grain. The alehouse boasted its own bowling green, and Grayson had offered a wager on his expertise in bowling. Apparently,
none of the men could resist either joining in the wager or watching the activity.
Mary had tried to nap, but she’d been too restless. Being near Redgrave constantly during the party had unsettled her nerves. It seemed every time they were alone together, kissing, touching, and panting ensued. She stared out the floor-to-ceiling window in the Billingsley library at the rain dripping down the pane.
“Here you are.”
Mary closed the open book in her lap that she hadn’t been reading to see her mother enter the room. “Why are you not resting, Mother?”
“I preferred to spend the time with my daughter. Although we have been at the same party for days now, I feel as though we have rarely spoken.” She sat on a well-padded chair across from Mary and smoothed out her skirts. “It seems to me Lord Redgrave has taken up quite a bit of your time.”
The heat started in her belly and traveled to her face. She raised her chin, refusing to succumb to embarrassment. “We have partnered in a few games.”
“And dances.”
“I have also danced with Lords Grayson, Billingsley, Draper, Beamer, and Stephenson.”
The dowager sighed. “Mary, the man broke your sister’s heart.”
Mary picked at a loose thread in her morning dress. “Frankly, I do not think Abigail was so very heartbroken.” When her mother did not respond but merely raised her eyebrows, Mary continued. “She’d been in love with Joseph most of her life.”
Her mother closed her eyes and shook her head.
“She was, Mother. Abigail once told me she’d had a tendre for Joseph when she first came out, but he did not encourage her. Just last year she admitted that she had gotten over her feelings so quickly for Redgrave that she couldn’t possibly have loved him the way she thought she had.”
Mary did not want to think about why she felt it necessary to defend Redgrave and have her mother think better of him. Even if the dowager changed her opinion of him, Drake was a hurdle she could never jump. Once they all returned to London, she would be better off putting Redgrave from her mind for the rest of the Season.
Then once more she would return to their country estate, Manchester Manor, as an unmarried woman very close to being on the shelf. Far from a life of home, husband, and children.
And love.
“And what, my dear, does that have to do with your fascination with the man?”
“I am hardly fascinated by him.” Mary bristled. First Drake thought she was championing him, and now Mother saw it as fascination.
The dowager folded her hands in her lap. “What do you call it?”
She shrugged. “Friendship.”
Anxious to get as far away from that conversation as possible, Mary stood. “I think I may take a rest, after all.”
Her mother dipped her head. “As you wish. I will see you at dinner.”
She left the room, away from the accusations and her troublesome thoughts. The house remained quiet as she made her way up the stairs to the east wing. Just as she reached her door, a deep, velvet voice called her. “Mary.”
She turned to see Redgrave striding down the corridor. “What are you doing here? This is the women’s side.” She looked frantically around her.
“I know.” He grabbed her arm, opened the door to her room, and pulled her inside. He closed the door, leaning against it. “We must talk.
“Alone.”
Chapter Thirteen
He could not believe he actually grabbed Mary and shoved her into her room. What the bloody hell was he thinking? They stood not ten feet from her bed.
Best not think about that, I am already in too much trouble.
Running his fingers through his hair, he paced, gathering his thoughts.
“Redgrave?”
Abruptly, he turned and pulled her into his arms. “I want to court you. I want to speak to your brother and gain his permission to escort you to the park for drives, to the theater, the museum. I don’t want to keep up this blasted hiding.”
Thinking back on her conversation with her mother, she asked, “The question is, what are we hiding?”
He sighed. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”
Mary seemed to soften in his arms. “I don’t know, either.” She reached up to smooth his hair. “Mother just questioned me on why we seemed to be together so much.”
“Why are we together so much?” He closed his eyes. “I should not have asked that.” He stared down at her, and his insides twisted as he regarded this woman he did not deserve. Her clear, bright eyes surrounded by dark lashes. Full, moist lips that he wanted to kiss until neither of them remembered why they should not be together.
For always.
He drew lazy circles on her silken cheek. “Promise me all your waltzes tonight.”
She grinned. “You know I cannot do that. ’Twill cause a scandal.”
“Let us cause a scandal. Then we will be forced to…”
Mary put her finger to his lips. “No, don’t say that. Furthermore, you should leave. The last thing I wish to put my mother through is another scandal.”
“Another scandal caused by me, you mean,” he asked wryly.
“I meant no such thing. My sister Sybil would have caused a scandal had word leaked out about her ‘condition’ when she arrived back home at Manchester Manor from Scotland. And my sister Sarah scandalized Mother when she shared a room with a professor on a trip to Scotland, thereby accidentally marrying him.
“In any event, you should leave now. I do not want to get caught in a compromising situation. Please?”
He took a step forward. “One kiss?” She stepped back
She shook her head but chewed her delectable lips, uncertainty in her eyes. He moved forward again and raised her chin with his finger, gazing at her. “One kiss? Please?”
“Then you will leave?”
He smiled down at her, brushing aside a curl that had come loose from her bun. “If you wish me to.”
Claiming her lips, he crushed her against his chest, holding her snugly. She fit perfectly—all female warmth and softness. An idea slowly grew that this was the woman he wanted in his arms for the rest of his life. Whatever objections they faced would be nothing compared to the joy of a lifetime of taking her to bed, showing her how wonderful it could be between a man and a woman. Making her his, completely.
Did he deserve such a woman? Did he deserve to have a love that should never be his?
He moved his lips to her jaw, then her neck, kissing, nibbling, and soothing. She tilted her head to give him better access to the smooth, creamy skin. Unfastening the back of her gown, he slowly drew the garment from her shoulders to reveal her plump breasts presented for his pleasure from the top of her corset. He tugged the garment down slightly and her breasts fell into his hands.
“So beautiful, so perfect.” His thumbs slid over rose-colored nipples, causing them to pucker. She moaned and threw her head back as he took one stiff pebble in his mouth, running his tongue over the sensitive tip.
Mary wrapped her hands around his head, pulling him closer. “You should not be doing this.”
Indeed, he should not, but he’d been hungering for a taste of her for weeks. “Should I stop?”
Please say no.
“No,” she murmured.
He took her breast fully into his mouth, sucking, biting slightly, then soothing with his tongue. His hands spanned her ribs, pulling her closer.
A slight knock on the bedchamber door jolted them apart. “My lady, I have your gown for tonight. ’Tis pressed. May I hang it in your wardrobe?”
“Oh, goodness,” Mary whispered, pulling her bodice up. She turned her back to him. “Fasten my gown, and hurry.”
“My lady?”
“Ah, I will be right there, Baxter. I was just taking a short nap.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Hurry up.”
He leaned close to her ear. “Mary, have you forgotten when your maid comes into the room she is most likely going to see me?”
“Oh God.” She whirled around, looking at every corner. “What will we do with you?”
“My lady? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Yes, just fine Baxter. I will be right there. Just give me a moment.” She glanced in the mirror and pushed back the loose strands of her hair, shifting her bodice to straighten it.
Redgrave strode to the window and looked down. It was a fall, but if he hung from the window frame, he could drop to the ground and probably only break a leg or two, but most likely not his neck. Mary hurried to his side. “You can’t climb out the window, one of the women might see you.” She wrung her hands. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ll have to hide in the wardrobe.”
“She wants to put the gown in the wardrobe,” she whispered furiously.
A loud knocking came from the door. “My lady, are you sure you are all right? Shall I get one of the footmen to open the door? Is it stuck?”
“No!” She pushed Redgrave toward the wardrobe. “Climb in. I’ll handle Baxter.”
He eased into the tight space and Mary closed the door, leaving him in pitch-black darkness.
…
Mary plastered a smile on her face and opened the door. “Baxter, thank you so much.” She reached both arms out to take the gown from the woman.
The maid eyed her with suspicion. “I thought I heard you speaking to someone.” She sniffed and looked around the room.
“No. What you probably heard was me reading aloud.” She pointed to the open book lying on the table by her bed.
The maid sailed past her. “I would like to hang your gown in the wardrobe, so it stays fresh for this evening.”
Mary flung herself in front of the wardrobe, her arms outstretched. “No, no. that won’t be necessary.”
Baxter raised her eyebrows. “Then what will I do with it?”
Realizing how peculiar her action appeared to the maid—her mother’s maid—she straightened and tugged on the cuffs of her dress. “Just lay it out there on the bed. It will be fine. I’m afraid there are too many gowns in the wardrobe, and we don’t want this one crushed.”
The maid frowned, but did as Mary asked. “Shall I send the footmen up with your bath?”
The Earl's Return (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 12