She blinked, incredulous. “You mean permanently? Month to month?”
“Of course I mean permanently, and I’ll need you to start right away. I’ve almost completed repairs on the stables, but some of the weather damage inside was greater than anticipated. I’ll need to know the exact amount I can spend to get things running smoothly, since I’d like to start breeding again next season.”
She shook her head, dazed. “Breeding…horses?”
He looked at her strangely. “It’s what I do, Caroline. I breed, show, and sell Arabian horses. I don’t have the time or patience to keep my finances in line, so I’d like it to be one of your duties.” He paused. “Do you mind?”
Slowly she smiled in wonder. “You trust me with this?”
He touched the back of his hand to her cheek and grinned devilishly. “If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t have asked. And besides, if you did try to abscond with all the money, I’d find you sidetracked at my neighbor’s house pruning his petunias, which are now to the point of overrunning the property.”
Caroline thought she might explode from elation. He believed in and trusted her abilities. No one, not even her father, had ever done that before.
“I’d be delighted to take this tedious chore off your hands,” she finally acknowledged in a voice filled with joy.
“Good.”
He turned, but before he could move, she grabbed his arm, pulled herself up, and with only the briefest hesitation, wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.
He reached up with his palm to stroke the silkiness of her hair, but before he could even think to embrace her, and without looking at him, she quickly pushed herself away and returned to the chair.
He stood silently, watching the side of her face for another minute, then turned and walked to the door.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he softly said.
Caroline, however, was oblivious to everything but the financial computations in front of her.
Chapter 5
Caroline dressed in a pale peach evening gown, tied her dark-brown locks loosely at her nape with a small white ribbon, and purposefully strode to the kitchen for dinner, expecting to find Nedda, Davis, and Brent waiting patiently inside. Instead, she saw only her husband standing by the small window overlooking wet grasslands and hills blurred by the thickness of evening rainfall.
Sitting on the table before her sat a platter of cold roast beef, cheeses, bread, a bowl of plums, a bottle of wine, and only two place settings.
“Aren’t Davis and Nedda joining us?” she hesitantly asked.
“They’re busy,” he replied casually, turning. He briefly took in her appearance, then moved to help her sit, lighting three candles on the table before taking the seat next to her. “It’ll just be us.”
“Fine,” she said quickly, glancing at him nervously as he poured the wine. Tonight he’d dressed for dinner as well, wearing a white silk shirt, dove-gray breeches and cravat, and a charcoal-gray dinner jacket. His clothes fit him impeccably, and naturally he looked perfect. The thought made her laugh.
“Something funny?” he asked, lightly amused.
“We look ridiculous sitting at the kitchen table dressed like this,” she answered with a broad smile.
He grinned and raised his glass to his lips, taking a large swallow. Then he slowly lowered it, apparently to contemplate the clear, pale liquid inside.
“Caroline,” he started in a deepened voice, “I have to admit you’re not the loveliest woman I’ve ever known. But without a doubt, if one considers the whole package, regardless of what you’re wearing you are by far the sexiest.”
She was taken aback by his words and suddenly felt hot color rise in her cheeks. Why his outspoken nature continued to surprise her she couldn’t guess, for during the past several days, she’d come to understand that speaking in such a manner was simply his way. Still, perhaps he’d given her the opening she needed to make her future desires clear.
Reaching for her glass, she put it to her lips, swallowed a mouthful, and, gathering her nerves, bluntly confessed, “I think you have a right to know I don’t ever intend to carry a child.”
The room became still as death. Even the rain stopped splattering against the window.
Caroline continued to look at her glass, waiting for her husband to yell at her or slap her soundly, as was his right. After several moments of unbearable silence, he shocked her completely when he instead reached for her plate and began filling it with food from the platter in front of them.
“May I ask why you changed the subject from our attire to children?”
She fidgeted from the coolness in his voice. “I just thought you should know how I feel before—”
“Before we become intimate, Caroline?”
He was twisting her words to his advantage, and that made her mad. “I want you to understand.”
“I want a son and I need an heir.”
Once again his voice was calm, controlled, as if he’d made a final, irrevocable decision on the matter.
Bravely she retorted, “I don’t want a baby. Please respect that decision.”
After regarding her for a moment, he reached for his plate and began piling it high as well.
“All women want babies, Caroline, including properly bred ladies. I cannot believe you’d be any different, and that leads me to think you’re either frightened of childbirth or frightened of sex. I’d like to know which and I’d like to know why.”
She inhaled deeply. She couldn’t argue with him and she couldn’t tell him a thing about her plans without raising his suspicions. So, she reasoned, her only hope was to appeal to his logic, his intellect.
After taking another large sip of wine, she picked up her fork and started toying with her food. “I know exactly how you’re feeling, Brent.”
His cocked a brow. “You do?”
She smiled. “Of course I do. I understand your need for an heir and I also understand the male libido. I know that most men bed their wives over and over because they cannot control themselves. It’s perfectly natural and probably instinctive.”
He slowly leaned toward her, his elbow on the table, chin in palm, now seemingly engrossed in her words.
“Really? You know all of this?”
She nodded with absolute assurance.
“How learned you are, Caroline.”
“I am.” She gave him a light, confident smile. “I realize you need a woman in your bed to satisfy the urges you feel. I’m very practical about these things and won’t be a bit jealous if you show any favors toward another.”
“That’s very reasonable and generous of you, Caroline,” he slowly maintained. “But, to inherit, my son needs to be born legitimately.”
Flushing, she ignored that issue and quickly looked back to her plate. “I just want you to know that I respect the fact that your desire for me is nothing more than lust you would feel for any woman.”
He was quiet for a moment, watching her closely, for she could positively feel the warmth of his gaze, and after an awkward minute of silence she glanced at him again. He spoke when their eyes met.
“You sound remarkably experienced, Caroline.”
“I’m both experienced and knowledgeable,” she bravely contended. “I’ve seen many animals mate and I assure you that rutting isn’t all that pleasant for the female.”
He dropped his arm to rest it beside the other atop the table and leaned very close to her—so close that she could see candlelight reflecting in his eyes.
“Caroline, I’m going to promise you some things.”
She stared at him, unblinking.
“I promise,” he slowly began, “that I will never hurt you in any way. I promise I won’t ever take a mistress, or embarrass you in public or private by flirting with another woman, gently bred or common. I promise I will take you to my bed, and even if it takes three full days to arouse you to a f
renzied peak, you will enjoy it. I promise you will carry and bear my legitimate child. I promise you will never have another lover in this lifetime. And finally, I promise, to the depths of my soul, I will never rut on you like a common bull.”
With that he turned to his food.
Caroline didn’t know whether she should lunge at him in rage or politely thank him for saying what were probably, to him, beautiful and honest words. Instead, she let the matter drop.
They ate together in silence for a while, Caroline finding her food tasteless, he practically licking his plate clean. When finally he reached for seconds, he cut the tension in the air by blandly changing the subject.
“So why didn’t you marry and settle down at a young age like your sisters?”
She brushed over that and boldly asked, “Why didn’t you marry Pauline Sinclair?”
He looked up sharply, momentarily startled, then grinned sardonically. “I thought Pauline would have made an adequate wife and a decent mother, and those were the only reasons I wanted to marry her. She, however, did not want me.”
“Did you love her?”
He snorted. “No.” With a sigh, he sat back and took a sip of his wine. “Now answer my question, little one.”
Suddenly her curiosity about his life with Miss Sinclair was overshadowed by the nervousness she felt at revealing her deepest desires to her husband. But after the briefest hesitation, his attention fixed exclusively on her, waiting for a reply, she felt honesty was in order.
“I long ago gave up my girlish dreams of romance and replaced them instead with dreams of being one of the world’s leading authorities on plant breeding.”
His brows furrowed, and his expression grew cautious.
Caroline lifted her chin, holding his gaze, certain that at any moment he would burst into laughter. She had nothing to lose now.
“At one point my greatest desire was to study at Oxford under the direction of Sir Albert Markham.”
That intrigued him immediately as he slowly leaned toward her.
“I sent him some samples of my experiments, along with computations for the exact breeding of lavender roses to create the unique hue of those grown only in climes where temperatures rarely vary. As far as I know, no one thus far has been able to create such roses, for they are extremely delicate by nature and can only be grown with exact specifications and the greatest of care.”
Caroline caught herself. She was delving into great and unnecessary detail. “In any case, the man wouldn’t meet with me, even with proof of my experience and knowledge, and had the audacity to presume someone else had done the work.” She threw her napkin on the table, trying to control herself before tears of frustration filled her eyes.
“I don’t understand, since I know the man to be smart and methodical, why he wouldn’t at least see you,” he maintained softly, seriously, seemingly a bit perplexed.
She looked at him as if he were stupid. “I’m a woman, Brent.”
He sat back at once. “Yes, you are.” After a moment of silence, he added, “And now you’re stuck with me and an overgrown garden instead of the famous Sir Albert and his years of expertise.”
She relaxed and attempted a smile. He was trying to be delicate with her feelings. “It hasn’t been so bad.”
He grinned in return. “You enjoy pulling weeds?”
Her smile widened. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to broach the subject of a green house.
Feeling almost immortally brave, she leaned her chest toward him in what she hoped was a seductive fashion. He, being a man, naturally dropped his gaze to her breasts, and for the first time since they’d met, it made her flush with delight and anticipation. She felt powerful as a woman for the first time in her life.
Lowering her voice, she placed her hand on his arm and whispered huskily, “I have a favor to ask of you, Brent.”
His eyes moved back to her face, but his expression never changed. “Indeed.”
“I would like to continue my work, but I’ve found Miramont lacking the one necessary item I need.”
He arched a brow cynically. “And you’d like me to supply it for you?”
“Yes.”
“Am I to assume it’s a very small, inexpensive item?”
“It’s…bigger than that,” she murmured innocently, starting to feel unsure.
He cleared his throat. “Bigger than what?”
“Bigger than a small, inexpensive item.” She sat up, removing her hand from his arm.
“So what you’d like, Caroline, is for me to buy you a big, expensive item?”
She nodded just slightly.
He leaned back in his chair, regarding her.
She was so incredibly nervous now that her hands were trembling, and she kept them well hidden in the folds of her gown. She felt ridiculous. She never should have brought it up.
“I’ll buy it for you on one condition.”
She caught her breath. He was very serious and, as she considered it, also very smug.
“Don’t you even want to know what it is?” she asked, now fully frustrated with him sitting so close to her, staring at her as he was.
He shook his head lightly and stood. Before she could utter a protest, he clasped her arm and forced her to stand as well, beside him, almost touching.
“I don’t care what it is,” he whispered, placing his palm beneath her chin and tilting her head so she couldn’t help but look at him.
He studied every inch of her face with a cunning grin on his mouth. “But I would think you’d like to know what the condition is.”
She tried to back away, but in one quick movement he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up forcefully against his chest.
That infuriated her. With her face steaming, blood boiling, she boldly stated, “I need a green house—”
“I need a son.”
She stared at him, horrified. “You cannot think—” He leaned over and nuzzled her neck, making her heart start to pound. Pushing softly against him, she demanded furiously, “I need a green house—”
“And I need you, Caroline,” he whispered. “I believe that would be a fair exchange. We’ll both plant seeds.”
With that, he released her.
She stumbled back against her chair, breathing erratically, shaking.
“This is absurd,” she choked out, moving quickly out of his way, refusing to look at him.
“Think about it, Caroline,” he advised, now allowing the slightest traces of anger and disgust to seep into his voice.
Why he should be angry or disgusted, she couldn’t fathom. She was the one who was being coerced.
Seething, she straightened, smoothed her hair, and looked across the table at him, her eyes shooting arrows of fire.
“Isn’t it so like a man to use his wiles for his advantage, giving necessities to his wife only in return for sexual favors,” she boldly, icily exclaimed.
His eyes turned black with deep anger as he started to move toward her. She stood her ground, though, refusing to back down.
“And isn’t it just like a woman to tease her husband, then withhold sexual favors from him until he agrees to buy her necessities, which I would call niceties, actually, since green houses are about as useful as diamonds.”
She gasped, retreating, as he now stood only inches from her.
“I’m not withholding anything and I certainly wasn’t teasing you. My request had nothing to do with sex!”
“No?” His jaw tensed noticeably, and his voice became deadly soft. “If I recall, when you coyly asked for the little item you think you need, you snuggled so close your breasts nearly fell out of your gown and into my arms.”
Her mouth and eyes opened wide in shock.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice or understand what you were trying to accomplish?”
“How dare you!”
“Tell me, my darling wife,” he asked as his palm went up to stroke her cleavage, “are your nipples soft and rosy like your
lips, or dark brown and sensuous like your eyes? I’ll buy you five new rosebushes for a peek, ten for a taste.”
She slapped him. Hard.
He clenched his jaw but didn’t move. Even his eyes stayed locked with hers, daring her, as he ever so slowly slid his hand down to cover her left breast. Then, with an expertise she couldn’t have anticipated, he lowered the top of her gown, exposing her completely.
Caroline shivered, and for the first time in her life, felt totally helpless. Her hands were at her sides, and she knew she should do something with them defensively, but she couldn’t bring herself to break free of his penetrating stare. He hadn’t looked down yet, hadn’t moved his eyes from hers, but the fingers of his hands were gently moving over and teasing her nipples, causing them to harden and send fine points of delicious sensations through her body.
Suddenly he was breathing as heavily as she, and without notice or hesitation, he glanced down her body.
“Brent…” She felt weak, trembling against him.
Slowly, meticulously, he studied her by candlelight, as if marveling at a prized piece of art, a cherished possession, rotating his palms over her nipples, brushing them with the pads of his thumbs, running his fingers back and forth underneath her fullness, then gently cupping her, massaging her, squeezing her.
And finally, when she thought she might actually collapse against him, he raised his eyes and looked deeply into hers.
“I think the color is striking, Caroline,” he said in a husky whisper. “Dark burgundy on smooth, pale champagne. The colors of fine French wine. When you’re ready to let me taste, I will savor such a delicacy…” He cupped her fully with firm, warm hands.
She whimpered softly but said nothing as a fine liquid heat spread through her body and converged between her legs.
He leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek. “They’re perfect, and I’m so glad they’re mine now.”
Without warning, he pulled her gown up to cover her decently as he ran his tongue along her ear. That action made her nearly cry out.
“Sweet dreams, little one,” he whispered.
My Darling Caroline Page 6