“You, s-hic-ir—sir, are being too for … forward. I sh-hic—shall do s-so on my ow-own. Besides, I’m m-hic—mad at you,” she said, trying her best to glare at him, but his image refused to stay in one place. In fact, she could have sworn there were two of him!
A perplexed frown settled on Justin’s brow. “Why?”
“Why? I’ll t-hic—tell you why!” Suddenly Aidan realized she’d almost let it slip about the orphans and the ring. Fortunately she still retained enough sense to catch herself before she did. She frowned. “I forget why. But I’m still mad at you.” Then, draining her glass, she aimed it for the desk, but it fell from her hand about a foot short of its destination, landing on the carpet with a thud. “Goo … good night.”
Amazed, Justin watched as she weaved up out of her chair to smooth the skirt of her dress. With a toss of her head, she turned on her heel, then teetered wildly. “I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round,” she said, giggling. “Everything’s spinning.”
Jumping from his seat, Justin caught hold of her as she toppled toward his desk; then he gently eased her across its surface. With his hand plastered to the center of Aidan’s back so she wouldn’t slip to the floor, he worked his way around until he was beside her. “An experienced drinker, I see,” he said, lifting her into his arms. He strode toward the door. “Tomorrow, madam, you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
“A lie you tell,” she said, smiling, her words slurred less than they were a moment ago. She lifted her hand to brush a dark lock of hair from Justin’s brow. “You have very nice hair,” she said, the brandy having loosened her tongue. Her fingers threaded through his thick tresses. “Clean and rich. And your lashes, they’re sooo long!” She giggled again. “Men shouldn’t have such long lashes. They make a woman envious, you know.”
“And are you envious?” Justin asked, chuckling at her.
“Of you? Never … well, perhaps just a little.”
His smile widened. “Why so?”
“Because you’re a man. Men get to do anything they want, whenever they want.”
Justin started up the stairs, heading toward the floor above and the bedrooms. “I seriously doubt that, madam.”
“If I had been a man, my father would never have ordered me to marry Sedgewinn … and I wouldn’t have had to ask George to marry me—I wonder what ever happened to him. I like George, you know. He was always a gentleman, just like you’re being now. But I doubt he’s as strong as you. He pads his shoulders, you know,” she whispered in confidence, then babbled on. “You have good shoulders—broad, muscular. I thought of joining a convent, then George happened along. I even thought of joining it after I proposed —no, he proposed—whichever,” she said, frowning, confused as to who asked whom. “But Eugenia said the good sisters would probably boot me out within a week—or was it a month? Anyway, she was certain they wouldn’t be able to tolerate me for very long.”
“Eugenia may have had a point,” he said, again chuckling.
“No one likes me,” she said, suddenly becoming quite melancholy. “Not my father, not the Queen, not even my husband. Indeed, if I’d been a man, you wouldn’t be married to someone you hated,” she concluded, petulantly.
Justin smiled at her. So, he thought, certain a drunk was less likely to lie, she did intend to marry Edmonds. Therefore, she was innocent of being party to the plot that had trapped him. “I don’t hate you, Aidan. I simply don’t wish to be married to you. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
“Am I that ugly?” she asked, her eyes searching his.
“No, sweet,” he said, taking pity on her, for he knew if she remembered any of this tomorrow, she’d be more than just a bit embarrassed by what she was saying. “Shocked” would be a better term, but he still thought the word too mild. “You are far from ugly.” He strode through his bedroom door, Pitkin having left a lamp burning within; then he set his heel to it, kicking it shut. None of the other rooms were made up, and he didn’t wish to rouse the house to do so. Carrying her to his bed, he sat her on its edge.
“Then what am I?” Aidan asked.
“You are a very beautiful woman,” he stated, his eyes grazing over her upturned face, his hand still steadying her. “In fact, you’re one of the most beautiful I’ve ever beheld.”
Aidan smiled. “And you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever beheld. Too handsome—and arrogant as well.”
“I agree on both points. Now, will you be able to take care of yourself?”
“Certainly. Why shouldn’t I?”
Justin released his hold, and Aidan immediately slid from the mattress with a plop. “That’s why,” he said, lifting her upward from the floor. “Never in my life have I seen anyone become so inebriated in such a short time.”
“I’m not inebri … inebri—whatever you said.”
“Try ‘tight.’”
“Tight,” she repeated. “I’m not tight. In fact, I feel very loose.” She lifted her arm, showing him how it dropped to her side. “See, it won’t stay up.”
“Obviously, neither will you.” He leaned her against the bedpost, angling his hips to hers to keep her there, and began unbuttoning her dress.
“You’re putting me to bed, just like the night at the inn,” she stated, her cheek stuck to the cool wood of the upright post, her arms dangling at her sides. “That’s so considerate of you.”
As Justin released the last button, he pulled Aidan back against him, then slipped her dress down her arms. “I had less trouble on the particular night in question, madam. Henceforth, you shall be limited to one glass of wine at supper.”
“I’m not inebri … tight,” she insisted.
“Sorry, love, but you are indeed that.”
“I am not. You’re simply getting rusty.”
“Rusty?” he questioned.
“Yes. You’ve forgotten how to remove a woman’s clothing.”
“And what gives you cause to think I make a habit of doing so on a regular basis?”
“Everyone knows you do,” she said, frowning at him over her shoulder. “They all talk about you, you know.”
“And what else do they have to say?” he questioned as he loosened her corset strings.
She smiled conspiratorially. “They say you are the best lover in all of England.”
Justin threw back his head and laughed. “They do, do they?”
“Yes. But I doubt there’s any substance to the rumors.”
He released the corset, then pulled it, her dress, and her numerous petticoats down her legs to the floor, leaving her in her chemise and drawers. Lifting her slight form into his arms, he kicked the garments aside. “What they say, Aidan, is mostly that—rumor. Don’t take any of it to heart,” he told her as he laid her on his bed, extracting the covers from under her. He quickly whisked them up to her neck, secreting her soft form from his eyes. “I’m not unfamiliar with a woman’s body, but at the same time, I’ve not explored the scores and scores the gossips like to imply. If I had, I’d most likely be dead,” he said, smiling. “No man could survive, I assure you.”
As Aidan’s head rested on the pillow where Justin had once imagined it to be, he noted her hair was still coiled in its intricate style. He wanted to release the coppery tresses and feel their silky texture, letting them glide through his hands. Lightly edging his hip onto the mattress, he pulled the pins free, then threaded his fingers through the lustrous strands and gently raked them outward, as though they were a brush.
His actions were quite soothing to Aidan, and she moaned contentedly. “That feels wonderful,” she whispered, and moved closer to his magical hands as they massaged her scalp.
The covers slipped down as she did so, and Justin’s gaze took in her beauty. Eyes closed, her lips softly parted, the tops of her youthful breasts exposed for his hungry gaze to devour at will, she appeared content to allow his touch. To his masculine eye, she seemed like a virginal sacrifice, offering herself freely.
Hot desire suddenly shot thro
ugh him, and he fought to tame his raging passion. It would be so easy to take advantage of her, he knew, especially when the brandy had released her inhibitions, relaxed her guard. Rightfully she was his to do with as he wished, and a few softly spoken words of endearment, coupled with several heated kisses, would have her turning in his arms, pleading for more. Although his body desired her, wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting any woman before, he did not want to be chained to her emotionally.
Knowing it was so, Justin freed his hands from Aidan’s hair. “Get some sleep,” he said in a husky whisper, and Aidan’s eyes opened slowly to see him leaning over her. Rings of dark amethyst surrounded ebony pools, and Justin felt as though he were drowning in them. “If you should start to feel ill,” he said, almost certain she would, “I’ll be here in the corner the night through.”
Aidan’s hand lifted and her finger lightly traced over his lips. “Thank you,” she said dreamily. “I shall remember.” Then her hand slipped behind his head. “I imagine you would be a good lover,” she said, smiling, “but then, I shall never know. I’m merely your unwanted wife.” She drew his head down. “Good night,” she said, innocently offering her lips.
So intoxicating, Justin thought of her beauty, of her naiveté, and smiled. And so totally intoxicated. His gaze traveled to her inviting lips, and he remembered his harsh words, words said in extreme anger, telling her he’d never touch her mouth again. A foolish statement, he decided as he checked his masculine desires and briefly, tenderly pressed his mouth to hers. Then the tip of Aidan’s tongue trailed lightly over his lips and he felt his resolve to keep himself at bay tearing itself apart.
“Don’t, sweet,” he whispered as he tried to release her hand from his neck, but she held fast. “You have no idea what risk you’re taking … what could happen.”
“Kiss me,” she pleaded, her fingers threading upward through his hair. Had she not been under the influence of the brandy, Aidan would never have uttered those words, but as it was, her reserve had fled, and she wanted more of him. She cared not what the consequences might be. “Please?”
At the soft plea, Justin’s restraint snapped, and like a starving man, he emitted a famished groan, lowered his head, and ravenously partook of the bountiful feast before him.
As Justin’s mouth hungrily devoured hers, Aidan’s senses took flight. She felt as though she were suddenly drifting high above the bed, circling the room, like a wildly spinning kite caught on a draft of air, lifted upward, then pushed downward. Her heart soared beyond its bounds, dizzily, crazily, until it seemed to sweep her to the edge of oblivion.
In turn, as his eager lips traversed Aidan’s, Justin’s own senses were sailing free. But whereas she felt as though she were flying, he felt like he’d plunged into a turbulent sea. Great rolling waves of desire washed over him, pulling him downward into a roiling eddy, whirling him into a dangerous maelstrom of no return. His tongue plunged the depths of her mouth. Deeper and deeper he sank, drawing what life he could from her, needing it to replenish his own. Then he was certain he was drowning in her, and he dragged his mouth aside.
“Something’s happening, sweet,” he breathed on a rasp of air. “Something I can’t control.” Then, knowing he had to somehow stop this madness before it consumed them both, he drew back. His desire-filled gaze lightly raked over his wife’s tranquil features, and immediately he realized she had fallen asleep.
Inhaling deeply, he expelled a long arduous breath as he fought to master his wildly raging passion; then a derisive laugh escaped his lips. Whether she’d swooned from his kisses or had passed out from the drink, he’d never know. No doubt it had been a combination of both, he decided, shaking his head and tucking the covers around her. But, thankfully, she had done so when she had. Otherwise there was no telling what might have happened. He snorted at the thought, for he knew precisely what the end result would have been. But for a stroke of luck, he’d be doomed.
Rising from the bed, Justin strode to the chair which stood in the corner. He sank into it and stretched his long legs outward, his arms crossed over his chest. Surveying the gold-and-white decor of his room, then the small form nestled in his bed, he pondered the powerful emotions that had seized him only moments before. For hours he sat there, thinking on what it had all meant, never finding an answer—except that something inside him had tripped close to his heart, like a key turning in a rusty lock. And he feared what would pour forth if he gave her the chance to open the door completely.
Fool! he vehemently admonished himself. He needed no one, least of all the violet-eyed vixen who’d stolen her way into his life. But as he tried to reinforce that thought, a thousand arguments bursting forth in his mind to prove his case, he found only one that said he was wrong. And she lay in his bed, swaddled deep in its covers, like an innocently sleeping babe: his sweet, alluring, unwanted wife—Aidan.
9
Aidan awakened the next morning, feeling as though her head had been pressed between two boulders. Sluggishly she rose from the bed; an agonized moan escaped her lips. With cautious steps she carefully made her way to the basin, where she rinsed her face with cool water poured from the pitcher. All the while she wondered what had happened to make her feel so dreadfully awful.
Dabbing her face with a clean towel, she looked around the large room. Its fine furnishings her only companions, she experienced a great deal of confusion over how she’d gotten there. Slowly bits and pieces of the prior evening’s events came slithering into focus. Suddenly the full picture of where she was and of what she’d done hit her like a giant wave. Doused by the shock of it, she steadied herself against the washstand.
Sweet Lord! She’d never be able to face Justin Warfield again! But as she thought about it, her embarrassment quickly turned to anger. He’d been the one who’d fed her the brandy, knowing its effect, deliberately priming her to loosen her tongue! If anyone were to blame for last night’s debacle, it was him, not her. The insufferable rogue!
Taking great care not to jostle her pounding head or her overly sensitive stomach, Aidan washed and dressed herself. Several buttons, which were unreachable to her hands, remained unfastened on her gown. Then she gingerly pulled her fingers through her hair, removing the worst of the tangles. Without a brush, little could be done with the unruly mass, so she twisted its coppery length atop her head and pinned it. When she glanced in the small mirror above the washstand, she noted her pallor and bloodshot eyes and decided she’d looked far better on other occasions. But at the moment, her appearance was the least of her worries. Right now, her only concern was confronting Justin Warfield, head-on, and finding a way to dissolve their marriage once and for all.
As Aidan entered the hallway, leaving what she assumed was Justin’s room, she noticed a maid stepping through a door at the end of the corridor and called out to her, then instantly wished she hadn’t. Pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples, she slowly approached the young woman. “Could you please tell me where I might find the duke?” she asked.
“Why, he’s probably breakfasting in the morning room, miss,” the girl answered, a light blush creeping up over her already rosy cheeks.
Miss? Aidan questioned silently, then realized the maid had no inkling of who Aidan was. A natural mistake, for she doubted Justin had told anyone in his household he was now married. “And where is the morning room?”
“It be down the steps and to the back of the house by the terrace which leads out into the gardens.”
“Thank you,” Aidan said, then started to turn. “Oh, I almost forgot. Would you please fasten these buttons? I couldn’t reach them.”
The young woman looked at Aidan, her blush growing deeper. “Why, certainly, miss,” she said, setting to work on them. “His Grace usually tells me when he’s brought a lady home with him, so I can help her with her needs the next morning. I suppose he forgot.”
Aidan’s lips compressed into a tight line. Obviously the girl thought she was one of Justin’s lo
vers. Like a prowling cat, the man probably dragged his willingly snared playthings through the door on a regular basis. “I suppose he did,” she said, smiling coolly. “And your name is … ?”
“Millie, miss.”
“Thank you, Millie. I appreciate your help,” she said, then headed for the stairs.
Finding what she thought was the morning room, Aidan stepped inside to see Justin seated at a cheerfully dressed table. Bright sunlight poured through the large windows to surround him. Why, of all days, couldn’t it be cloudy? she wondered, squinting her eyes against the intense glare. Then he rattled the newspaper he held, turning the page. The sound crackled through her head and down her spine, spreading outward through every nerve she possessed. Swallowing hard, she took a tentative step toward him, dreading what might ensue, then quickly prayed he’d forgotten last night altogether. Yet, hopelessly, she knew he hadn’t.
Justin glanced up from his paper to bestow a knowing look on Aidan. He could tell immediately she was suffering greatly from the effects of the drink. “Ah, I see you’ve arisen,” he said in a sunny voice, getting up from his chair, only to be presented with an intense stare. The harsh look bespoke annihilation—his in particular! “How do you feel?” he asked in a low, concerned voice as he seated her.
“Like Lazarus when he stepped from his tomb.”
Wisely, Justin swallowed his rising chuckle. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse. Why did you let me drink so much?” she snapped, pinpointing him with her narrowed gaze.
“I warned you, but you seemed content not to listen. Now you know what I said was true.”
“Which was?”
“You’d feel like you’d been kicked by a horse.”
“I’d say more like an elephant.” She frowned at him while rubbing her temple. “Why is it so bright in here?”
“Probably because it’s eight o’clock in the morning and the room faces east. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s also a clear day.”
A Heart So Innocent Page 17