Rogues and Ripped Bodices

by Samantha Holt

  “You couldn’t get me to leave if you tried.”

  “All is well then? The duchess treats you well.”

  The grey-haired woman’s brows rose and she nodded. “Of course. I don’t put up with nonsense, you know that.”

  “Well, it seems half of the servants thought otherwise.”

  She waved a flour-covered hand at him. “Ah, some of them wanted to go onto pastures new. The duchess helped them find new work. You know what youngsters are like. Well, of course you do, you’re still one yourself really, and you certainly have never been able to stay in one place for long. Besides which, we do just fine on our own. We hardly need a large household to look after one lady.”

  Alex wasn’t sure why but he felt like he’d just been scolded for questioning the duchess’s approach to household management. For some reason, his staff appeared incredibly loyal to her. Did they not know of her lover? Perhaps he was no longer around. Surely if Hannah had realised Emma was keeping a lover, she would not be so loyal. Hannah was as old-fashioned as they came.

  “Do we have an axe?” he asked, pushing away from the table and peering into the store room. Several old boxes and trunks cluttered the space and the odour of damp stone made his nose wrinkle.

  “Aye, Your Grace, behind the box of candles. Freddie has several though he may well have taken the best one to finish chopping the firewood today.”

  Alex nodded and stepped into the dank storage room. He sneezed as he inhaled the dust in the room. It had once been the toilets many hundreds of years ago, he had been told, but now the stone ledge had been planked over and was used as shelving. He hefted the box of candles aside and spotted the axes in the gloom. Grabbing the first one, he weighted it in his hand and smiled. That would do nicely.

  He ducked out of the room to see Hannah shaping the ball of dough. “My thanks, Hannah. If anyone should ask for me, I shall likely return within an hour or so.”

  “Where are you going, Your Grace?”

  “I’m going to see if I can’t find a fine tree for the drawing room.”

  The cook’s face lit up. “Oh, lovely. The duchess didn’t want to pay to have one brought in and none of us have had the chance. I hear they’re quite high fashion in London now.”

  “Yes, and in Germany and France. They always tend to do these things first.”

  “If I finish up these pastries in time, I shall string some berries and there’s some small candles and holders in there somewhere.” She thrust a white finger towards the storage room. “Oh, if only we had children coming. I could wrap up some sweetmeats to hang.”

  He grinned. “That sounds a grand idea and I wouldn’t complain about there being some sweetmeats.”

  Hannah gave him an indulgent smile and he felt about seven again. “And the duchess may have some ribbon scraps. I am sure she would love to help.”

  His smile dropped. Damnation, if he was to seduce his wife, the idea of her helping with something should not terrify him so. The trouble was, he feared getting angry around her and he feared making a bumbling idiot of himself.

  He strode off and found the butler waiting for him in the hall with his thick coat, hat and scarf. He ignored the hat—it would only hinder him—but stuffed his arms into the coat and wrapped the scarf tightly around his neck. He passed over the axe to a stony-faced Hampton and pulled his gloves from his pockets to put them on before retrieving the axe and offering a jaunty salute to the grim man.

  “Toodle pip, Hampton.”

  Alex could not help but grin to himself at the butler’s bemused expression. He trudged out into the increasing snow and watched his breath puff into the air for a few moments.

  When he was far enough away from the castle, he turned to eye the building. His gaze naturally drifted to her window but he saw her curtains were still drawn. It should not have done, but it annoyed him she had moved into his mother’s old bedroom. In spite of them hardly knowing one another when they married, he’d hoped they would have a better relationship than his mother and father.

  It seemed history was to repeat itself. Except his wife was the one with a lover instead of himself. His father had taken many mistresses and Alex vowed he would always be faithful to his wife, no matter what. It hadn’t been easy. He had met many beautiful women this past year on his travels, but none quite like Emma.

  The way she bit her lips and stared at him all wide-eyed didn’t pass his notice last night. Had she realised he lusted after her? That the sight of her nipples pressed against that thin cotton, and the feel of her waist beneath his hands had made him rock hard? He suspected he’d scared her. It would not surprise him after all his terrible attempts at bedding her. She probably feared he would take her to bed and she’d have to suffer him.

  So how in the devil was he going to persuade her to let him bed her enough times to get her with child? And how was he going to make it better for her? He’d learned a few things in his time away in the Alps—a product of listening to the talk of drunk men mostly. But could he put anything into practice?

  He couldn’t help but wonder if he should not have lost his virginity to a whore rather than his wife. Or even just found someone to teach him a few things while he’d been away, but he refused to be like his father and climbing mountains and travelling for the past year hardly left him much time for more, er, sordid activities.

  His breaths came thick and fast as he made his way over the hills surrounding the castle. The snow had begun to fall more heavily and was past his ankles now. His leather boots protected his feet well enough and he wore thick woollen socks but he had not seen snow like this since being in the Alps. His ears began to hurt and he tugged up the scarf to protect his face. Perhaps he should have dug out some of his proper mountaineering attire.

  The tips of the trees came into view once he made it over the next hill. Like splashes of dark green against a blank canvas, they dotted the snowy landscape for almost as far as the eye could see. He hoped there were some young trees that would fit well into the drawing room.

  Alex propped the axe on his shoulder and started down the slope to the edge of the woods. He might not be able to seduce his own wife, but chopping trees—or anything that involved physical activity—he was good at. If he could master mountains and the outdoors, surely he could master his wife?

  Chapter Four

  The silence at Balmead never normally bothered Emma. But then she did not normally have a husband in residence. With only their limited amount of staff, the only sounds that accompanied her morning meal was the pop of the fire behind her and the patter of snow against the window. She peered out at the building snow and clinked her nails against her cup impatiently. Where was he and what was taking him so long? She should have braved seeing him first thing. How was she ever to entice him into her bed if she didn’t even spend time with him?

  Emma sipped her tea and leaned back to peer out of the window once more. Snow was starting to pile up on the window ledge, obscuring her view so she stood and carried her cup of tea to the window to keep watch. She shook her head. All Mr Hampton has said was that he went out early with an axe. What did he need an axe for?

  She tapped her foot and studied the white scenery. If there had been any evidence of the direction he had gone in, it had been obliterated by the heavy snowfall. What if he was injured or hurt? It didn’t matter that Alexander had spent a year climbing mountains in France or wherever else he had been, he could still be harmed. Her stomach churned and she discarded the cup on the carved bureau.

  A flash of something on top of the hill made her heart flip. She rested her hands on the sill and pressed her nose to the window. Was it him? She couldn’t tell through the wet glass. Snatching her skirts in one hand, she raced to the door and hauled it open, heart thudding. Wind and snow whipped around her.

  It was him. Emma released a long breath. She scowled and squinted through the heavy snowfall. What on earth was he carrying? He was a mere dark dot against the pristine white of the hills but he s
eemed to be pulling something behind him. As Alexander drew closer—at a frustratingly slow pace—it became clear he was dragging a tree. He had put her through all this worry for a tree! Honestly!

  When he reached the door, he offered a wide grin. This time her heart flipped over in excitement. She didn’t think she had ever seen him smile like that. It made his already handsome face that much more enticing. Snow clung to his fair hair and had dampened the length of it, so much of it stuck to his face.

  She stepped back to let Alexander drag in the huge tree. She squeaked and stumbled farther back as a branch threatened to trip her up.

  “What is this?” she asked as he released the tree and shut the door.

  “A tree.”

  “I know but...”

  “I wanted a tree.” He lifted a shoulder and unbuttoned his coat.

  She took his scarf from him and looked him over from head to toe. “You are soaked and you must be freezing.” She found Mr Hampton standing nearby and handed him the wet scarf. “Fetch His Grace some tea will you? Or hot cocoa.”

  “Hot cocoa? I’m not a child.”

  “No, but you’ve been out in the cold for hours. Come into the drawing room and get warm.”

  “I should get the tree set up.”

  “You will need a bucket and some sand first. Come and get warm, then we can worry about the tree.”

  He stared at her for several moments, a crease appearing between his brows. Emma supposed she had never really told him what to do before, and a duke rarely had anyone tell him what to do. Still, she refused to spend her Christmas looking after a poorly duke and if she was to ever fall pregnant, she needed him in full health.

  Emma took his arm and led him into the drawing room to sit him by the fire. He stared at her some more as she kneeled before him and began to draw off his soaked boots. Heat from the fire licked over her skin and further warmth flared inside, flooding her body when she glanced up at him.

  With his hair darkened and curling around his face in damp tendrils, and drips trailing from his face down to his open collar, made her mouth turn dry. The collar of his shirt was damp too and almost transparent. His skin looked bronzed against it—no doubt he had gained the colour on his travels as she didn’t remember him being quite so sun-kissed before.

  But while a flurry of sensation uncoiled inside her, none of it could be attributed to nerves as usual. As she placed his boots by the fire, courage began to fill her. This—taking care of someone—felt so natural. She so longed to be able to do the same for a child. Motherhood had long been her dream. Her parents were hardly models of parenthood and she was determined to do a better job.

  Drawing a blanket from the back of one of the chairs, she came to put it around his shoulders, leaning over him to coax him forward. Alexander frowned at her but did as she bid. One of the footmen entered and placed a tray with steaming cups on the side as she finished tucking the blanket around him. She smiled her thanks and rose to hand a cup to Alexander.

  “I am quite well, you know,” he grumbled and took the cup of cocoa from her.

  Emma couldn’t help but smile. For all his protests, he seemed happy enough to let her tend to him. “I won’t have you ailing, Your Grace.”

  She took her own cup and sat on the chair opposite. The scene struck her as cosy. It was something neither of them had done before. Their first month of marriage had been taken up with adjusting to living in a new home and being cautiously polite to one another while doing their best to avoid moments like these.

  But then, she had barely known him. Three dances they had shared before he proposed. Three. How was anyone to know someone well enough to spend a lifetime with them after a mere three dances?

  “You should have told someone where you were going,” she said after taking a sip of the hot cocoa.

  “It was hardly the Himalayas. I only went to the woods.”

  “Yes, but it is so easy to come to harm in weather like this. What if you had hurt yourself or... I don’t know... chopped off an arm or some such.”

  A brow rose and she noted the slight twitch of his lips. “I take it you do not have much confidence in my tree felling skills.”

  “It could happen!” Emma declared.

  “Emma, I have climbed mountains and travelled through some of the harshest weather known to man. A little Scottish snowfall would not hinder me and I assure you, I have very little intention of chopping off any of my limbs.”

  She felt a giggle rise and she let it slip. It was not very ladylike perhaps, but she couldn’t help herself and his eyes crinkled and softened. It was certainly worth that reaction to go against everything her parents had ever taught her about laughing and joking in public.

  After another sip, she forced herself to keep her expression serious. “Nevertheless, I am sure you didn’t do any of those things alone, did you?”

  “What do you know of mountaineering?” His eyebrows darted up.

  “I’ve read a lot. Obviously books cannot make up for the real experience, I am sure, but I know that it is not wise to climb alone.”

  In truth, she had read them in some hopes of understanding her husband but they had not made his motives any clearer to her. Some form of escape, she assumed. A way to run away from her. But most men simply escaped to one of their country estates or even London. Never did they go scurrying up mountains to run away from their wives.

  “You are right, and I never did. I have several fine friends from the Alpine Club with whom I travelled.”

  “It is odd, because I always thought climbing mountains must be to gain that sense of isolation yet how can that be when you are with several other men?”

  He shook his head. “No, it was never about isolation.”

  “The challenge then?”

  “I’ve always been an active man, unable to sit still for long. Even as a boy I climbed trees and got myself into all sorts of pickles. But it’s the reward that is the enticement,” Alexander explained and leaned forwards, his elbows upon his knees. “You should see it, Emma. You feel as though you are God. On top of the world and looking down.”

  “That sounds a little blasphemous, Your Grace.”

  The excitement dulled from his eyes and Emma regretted the words, wishing them back. She had never seen him look so alive. If only she could conjure up such a look.

  “And after Christmas, what is next? More mountains.”

  He leaned back and contemplated her. “No, no more mountains. I have another challenge in mind.”

  Her husband sipped his drink nonchalantly and settled his gaze on the fire. She took in his features as the golden glow skipped over them and brought out the strong dip in his chin. His hair had dried into a wild disarray that made her fingers twitch to touch it. A challenge, he said. She had set herself one of her own, but it was unlikely her challenge was anything like his. Alexander was a man of action. Could she possibly be a woman of action? Could she really seduce her erstwhile husband and achieve her own dream?

  Chapter Five

  Alex’s gaze had slipped to study Emma several times while they finished their drinks. He’d never seen this side of her before. Well, in truth, he had not seen many sides to her. He supposed he had not really stayed long enough to witness anything but her cool, haughty guise. Guise? Was it a front of some sort? Or was that who she really was and this was some act? He hardly knew. The soft smile on her face, the way she spoke with so much curiosity appeared genuine, but then was this not the woman who had run into her lover’s arms a mere month after their wedding day?

  He placed the empty cup back on the tray and raked his hands through his hair. He was warm and dry enough but it was sorely tempting to sit by the fire and steal glances at her all day. The glow of the flames brought out golden highlights in her hair and warmed her pale skin. The gown she wore was also a golden colour and she gleamed like an angel on top of the tree.

  It was an enticing picture indeed, the beautiful wife, the snow outside, the roaring fire and s
weet, hot drinks. There were times on the mountains when he might have been more willing to turn around and return home if he knew this was waiting for him.

  Clearing his throat, he stood, causing the blanket to slip from his shoulders. She lifted her gaze to him, those blue eyes so wide and wary. For all the progress they had just made, he had a long way to go, he feared.

  “Where are you going?” A tremble sat in her voice, and he wondered if she did not expect him to storm out the door at any moment and head back to the mountains.

  For all his time spent away, he had to wonder if he’d made the right decision. Should he have stayed and risked humiliation to try to woo his wife? Perhaps, but then he had never been the type to think much through. Which was exactly why he would not fall foul to his impulses now. His seduction of Emma would be carefully thought out.

  If only he had some idea where to start...

  “I’m going to fetch a bucket. I’d like that tree up before our families arrive tomorrow.”

  Emma glanced at the window. “I fear they shall not make it if this weather continues.”

  He grimaced to himself. The snow fell thick and fast and soon the roads would be impassable. As it was, they would hinder the carriages so much so that they would be lucky if their families arrived in time for Christmas Day. Alex had no particular fondness for his cousins but he should have liked to have seen his mother and if he was left alone with Emma, what in the devil would he do with her? It was not as though he could spend the entire festive season seducing her.

  “I’ll be a moment.” Alex found Hannah stringing some berries as promised and she had even parcelled up some sweetmeats. “Wonderful work, Hannah.” Alex snatched one and stuffed it in his mouth as he went by and she tutted at him. He found the bucket he’d spotted earlier in the storage room.

  “I’ll send one of the maids to fetch the rest of the decorations. Are you nearly done?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Just a few more berries to go,” the cook said.