by Emma Wildes
Her husband looked amused. “Well, we agree on one thing at least.”
* * * *
It was late but the mansion was brightly lit in anticipation of their arrival. Williams had left hours before them to make sure everything was prepared, and his efficiency was remarkable as always. The front door opened as the carriage came to a stop, and immediately a footman came down to assist them and collect their baggage.
Cassandra was sound asleep, not even the halt of the vehicle bringing her awake. He probably should feel guilty for her fatigue, for there was no question that Ross had kept her up most of the night before, indulging his lust and enjoying her artless but passionate response to his lovemaking.
Truth was, however, he didn’t feel guilty in the least. The emotion he felt as he moved to lift his sleeping wife in his arms was more akin to pure male satisfaction. But he was also restless and the long hours of inactivity in the carriage tried his patience.
She stirred slightly as he slipped an arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. Ross lifted her, enjoying the curvaceous soft feel of her body against his chest. Her breath was a sweet sigh against his cheek, but she didn’t wake, even when he exited the carriage and went up the steps.
“Good evening, my lord.”
Ross nodded at the young man standing there. “Good evening, Robert. As you can see, Lady Winterton is a bit fatigued. I am going to take her upstairs. Please tell my driver to hold the carriage as I’ll be going out in a few minutes.”
“Certainly, sir.” The butler did his best to look impassive, but he did glance surreptitiously at the woman resting so peacefully in Ross’s arms. “Congratulations, my lord, on your recent nuptials.”
They both spoke in low tones, not that it probably mattered. Cassandra seemed to be sleeping quite soundly. “Thank you,” Ross murmured and headed toward the stairs.
The room next to his had been readied and he gently deposited her on the bed, both amused and surprised at the fact that like a small child, she didn’t even wake then. Her lashes fluttered when he carefully removed her slippers and stockings, but otherwise she seemed in the oblivion of deep slumber.
He slipped the pins from her long hair, loosening the golden mass. It felt like warm silk in his hands and for a moment his resolve to let her sleep faltered. Taking a deep breath, Ross stood by the side of the bed and debated waking her even if it was a damned selfish notion considering her obvious weariness. The fact he wanted her enough he would even consider it was both astounding and unsettling.
Covering her slender body with a blanket, he quietly left the room. Williams waited for him in his own chamber, an anxious look on his freckled face. “Is Lady Winterton quite all right, my lord?”
“She’s just tired, I expect. This week has undoubtedly been stressful and she didn’t get much sleep last night.” When they stopped at an inn for dinner, Cassandra had looked as if she might drift off in the middle of their meal, and he had considered simply getting a room and staying, but had decided to go on to London. Well-used to arduous nights, it was nothing for Ross to stay up until dawn, snatch a few hours of sleep and feel just fine, but apparently his new wife wasn’t quite as resilient.
Or perhaps her existence was just a little more wholesome, he told himself with caustic honesty.
Changing his jacket and putting on a cravat, Ross instructed his valet, “If she should wake and need anything, see to it please.” He glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantle. It was barely midnight. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” He paused, frowning, wondering if he owed her an explanation other than a vague time he might return. If there was one thing on this earth he wasn’t accustomed to, that would be accounting to anyone for his whereabouts.
She was sleeping very soundly; he doubted she would wake. He was a married man, but that didn’t mean his lifestyle had to change entirely, did it? Still, if she woke in a strange place with only servants around and he was gone without a word, that might be considered churlish and thoughtless on his part. “I am going to visit an old friend,” he said reluctantly. “I shouldn’t be gone long.”
Williams didn’t inquire as to what kind of friend would welcome a visit at such a late hour, but his discretion was never a question. “I will relay the message, my lord, if her ladyship should ask.”
With a brief nod, Ross went downstairs and out to the waiting vehicle, giving his driver the address of his destination. It wasn’t far and it wasn’t long before they pulled up in front of an elegant townhouse in a quiet, discreet neighborhood. Ross saw the lighted window upstairs with satisfaction and alighted.
A few minutes later he was sprawled in a chair in Diana’s opulent bedroom, booted feet extended and a glass of fine claret in his hand. “I’m glad you were alone.”
Diana Wentworth gave him a small dry smile. “You know me, Ross, I don’t entertain someone unless they make a very good impression and lately I have been singularly unimpressed.” She pointed to a book, open on the bed. “I was reading.”
“I see.” He ran his gaze over her lissome form, draped in a dark green silk dressing gown. Dark shining hair spilled in unruly waves over her shoulders and her signature emerald eyes were an exotic shape, slightly slanted and long-lashed. “I pity those poor lackluster gentlemen who bore you, for I know what they are missing.”
“Yes, you do.” His former mistress laughed lightly and their gazes met for a moment, then she asked gently, “What are you doing here, Ross?”
“I’m not sure,” he told her. Then he shook his head. “Well, perhaps I do know. We are very old friends and I wanted to tell you myself that I’m married, face to face.”
“Believe me, I’ve heard. The whispers have already reached us in London from Berkshire that there was going to be a wedding.” She sank down in an opposite chair and gracefully picked up her glass of wine. The liquid winked ruby in the lamplight. “And I must say I did wonder. After all, you just returned from Africa…and it was rather sudden.”
“Extremely sudden.” His agreement had a little too much vehemence and he rubbed his jaw. “I’m not sure how to feel about this change in my life,” he admitted, “and it scares the hell out of me.”
Diana’s arched brows rose. “I see. Timothy Rollins’ sister, isn’t it? She must be young, for she isn’t out yet.”
“Not terribly young, Cassandra is nineteen.”
“What happened?” Diana was ever perceptive. Her tone held both curiosity and sympathy.
“A rather reckless moment, I’m afraid.” His smile was brief and sardonic. “Let’s just say my good judgment—which has failed me before but not quite so catastrophically—was suspended by alcohol and plain old-fashioned lust. Her innocence wasn’t even something I took into consideration at the time.”
“You seduced her?”
“Very thoroughly.”
“Indeed? I’m surprised. You are always so very careful to avoid eager young misses.”
If there was one thing he did not want, it was anyone thinking Cassandra had schemed to snare him into marriage. “She wasn’t eager…at least not in the sense you imply. The moment was equally reckless for her. She was actually resistant to the idea of marriage afterwards, so it was hardly on her mind before. Bloody hell, she’d never even been kissed.”
“Really? That’s…interesting, and entirely novel for you. So the attraction is mutual, I take it?”
“She’s very beautiful.” He said it simply and restively crossed his booted feet, brooding at his glass. “But, unfortunately, also shy, naïve, and bookish. There is nothing she wants less than to be dragged out before the haute ton and forced into the social whirl. On the other hand, I have no desire to simply die of boredom buried in the country.”
“You are married to someone shy and naïve? Take heart, darling, I doubt she’ll stay that way for long.” Diana looked as if she was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.
Ross pictured his new wife as he’d left her, sleeping peacefully and deeply, her silky b
lond hair framing her face, soft lips slightly parted. “Actually, I’d prefer it if she didn’t change at all. Cassandra is different,” he admitted. “But I’ll be damned if I know exactly what to do with her.”
“On the contrary, no one knows better what do with a beautiful young woman in his bed.”
Ross cocked a brow, and said dryly, “Your amusement is not helping, Di.”
“You’re discomposed. I suppose I just never thought I’d see it.” Green eyes gleamed with wicked laughter. “All by a prim young country miss.”
“I suppose I am.” He grimaced. “All this past week I should have been dreading my loss of freedom, but instead I couldn’t wait to get her back in bed again, like some eager adolescent.”
She looked at him with open curiosity and perhaps a hint of envy. “Was she worth the wait? Your expression tells me she was.”
If he considered the sexual marathon of the night before, he felt even more disconcerted. In his life he couldn’t ever remember being so consistently aroused and importunate. “Absolutely,” he confirmed with a sigh. “That’s part of the problem. My salacious interest is undeniable.”
Diana chuckled. “I can’t believe you aren’t there right now, enjoying your new bride. Though I appreciate the gallant gesture, you could have come and told me about your marriage in the morning.”
“She’s fast asleep and in good conscience I couldn’t wake her. Unlike myself, late nights are not part of her routine. She gets up at first light, for God’s sake, and walks in the garden every day like some pious nun.” Ross sank lower in the chair and indolently swirled the wine in his glass. He added with curt brevity, “Besides, I needed someone to talk to.”
“From lover to confessor…well, I think I liked my former role better, but I appreciate your trust. I take it all of this—besides the need to bare the secrets of your reprobate soul—is an oblique way of asking if I will watch out for your pretty little wife when she is set solidly in the middle of the rabid wolves of London’s elite society.”
As usual, Diana understood him well. Their affair had ended over five years ago, but she still remained a close friend and he did trust her, which was a unique facet in their relationship. “I hoped you would offer.”
“Not to worry, darling, I will do my best to protect her until she develops a little armor and grows some claws of her own.”
He said with cynical gloom, “I am not seeing her ever developing the necessary armor, quite frankly. She’s honest and completely without guile. Maybe what I need to do is send her back to the country as soon as she’s pregnant. My mother would be delighted to have the company, and I feel certain Cassandra would be happier back with her books and flowers.”
“And you?” Across from him, Diana asked the question softly. “Would it make you happier to have your young bride miles away?”
Would it? Right now, of course, the answer was a firm negative. Without equivocation, he wanted her in his bed with a powerful hunger that he found surprising and disturbing. Part of the reason he’d decided to leave the house was that he still wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off of her otherwise. Their wedding night had not even begun to slake his unusual level of desire, but the question was, would it last? No woman had ever held his continued sexual interest, not even the gorgeous Diana and her unbridled sexuality.
Ross shook his head and said with distinct male conviction, “For now, she stays in London with me.”
Diana’s expression changed slightly from indulgent to speculative. “I am delighted you are back, naturally, but there is one person who will not be glad to see you’ve returned. Lady Babcock disappeared almost as abruptly as you did last year. The word at the time was that her husband whisked her away from society to punish her for the indiscretion with you. The truth—I have on good authority—is she needed to time to recover and for her bruises to heal. Apparently Babcock has a heavy hand when he is displeased.”
Sickened by that notion, for while Danielle had deceived him, she didn’t deserve such odious treatment, Ross said, “I wish I could say I am surprised. I realized the depth of her loathing for her husband about the time I realized I was being used. Under other circumstances, I would never have simply walked away, but when she admitted why she approached me in the first place, and then begged me to kill him if he called me out, I admit I was furious.”
“I cannot say as I blame you, darling, but I, for one, doubt somehow your famed skill with a pistol was her sole motivation.” Diana gave him a lazy, suggestive smile. “If you weren’t so enamored of your new wife, I might even try and coerce you to stay. I’ve been celibate for quite some time and you do know exactly what to do to ease a woman who has certain…needs.”
Was this the first test? Ross wondered. A lush, gorgeous woman offering her body without strings, especially someone as undeniably talented in bed as Diana Wentworth.
In the past he would have stayed. Sex was simply mutual pleasure, after all. Nothing more.
But he found he wasn’t even tempted. With a lifted brow, he said gently, “Sorry.”
“You are enamored.” Diana sat up a little straighter, her smile widening.
“Possibly,” he muttered and drained his wine.
Chapter 6
Though she felt like a mannequin, Cassandra obediently lifted her arms while a young woman adjusted the measuring tape around her breasts. Doing her best to look nonchalant about the whole process, she tried to ignore the fact that there were people all around as she stood there in nothing but her chemise.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t been fitted and measured before. She certainly had, but never in such an obviously exclusive and busy establishment, and most certainly never with a man in the room. It wasn’t like Ross hadn’t seen her without a stitch on, so that really wasn’t what made her uncomfortable particularly, but it was the fact his purely masculine presence seemed out of place among the laces and bolts of expensive silks and satins. She never dreamed he would want to accompany her to the dressmaker for the appointment his secretary had made, much less would stay there.
Sitting in a comfortable chair obviously intended for husbands— or rich men who brought their mistresses, she imagined with chagrin—he watched with a small lazy smile as Madame Giacomelli and her assistants bustled around the fitting area. With his dark hair and striking good looks, he looked entirely male, his long legs in fitted breeches that hugged his strong thighs, his coat fitted perfectly to his wide shoulders, and just a hint of fashionable lace at his cuff.
At this moment, his gaze was unabashedly fastened on her uplifted breasts in undisguised appreciation. “Lady Winterton,” he murmured, “has a lovely bosom, does she not? Full and high, but her breasts are not so large she needs a corset. Now that she is a married woman, there is more license in the cut of her gowns. Nothing scandalous, if you please, but nothing girlish either.”
Gratefully, Cassandra dropped her arms as the dark-haired girl removed the tape and moved to write down the measurement, fighting the urge to cross her hands over her chest. It was a little mortifying to have her attributes discussed so openly and she sent Ross a quelling glance. He only looked amused and unrepentant.
Madame Giacomelli fluttered her hands enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, my lord, my thoughts exactly. Her charms should be displayed to the best advantage.”
“We’ll need everything,” he responded, his lashes slightly lowered over the vivid blue of his eyes. “From slippers to lingerie to gowns. I assume you are agreeable to that, my dear? Shall we give Madame carte blanche?”
Cassandra looked at her husband, realizing that though there was a teasing note to his voice, there was also a slight edge. She actually opened her mouth to object, for an entire wardrobe would be enormously expensive, and besides, it was the last thing she particularly wanted, but there was something about the watchful expression on his face that stopped her. Before they had arrived, he’d casually mentioned the dressmaker had only the most elite clients and was a practiced gossip.
Disagreeing with him in public was probably not prudent. Instead she said in a docile voice, “That seems overly generous, my lord, but if you think it is necessary, then of course, I agree.”
Madame looked positively gleeful. “Shall I have them start bringing out the material? With her ladyship’s exquisite coloring, she can wear anything.”
Ross inclined his head, his gaze once again skimming over Cassandra’s body. “I agree completely. She is exquisite. In every way.”
The soft sexual undertone in his voice was unmistakable and she couldn’t help it, she blushed predictably and uncomfortably. It didn’t help that behind her she heard one of the girls giggle and murmur something in Italian that she didn’t quite catch.
For the next two hours, Ross and Madame Giacomelli discussed fabrics, styles, and approved or disapproved before decisions were made on each aspect of her new wardrobe. He lounged there, watching, selecting, definitely in charge of each choice, his air of confident, aristocratic control something he wore very naturally. She wasn’t consulted more than once or twice, and Cassandra didn’t mind that particularly for she didn’t care in the least what she wore, but it was unsettling that her husband seemed so adroit and experienced on the subject. He’d obviously done it before, and realizing that was especially disturbing.
Not to mention the way the young girls bringing in the fabrics looked at him.
Jealousy was not something she had ever really experienced before, and it was a distinctly uncomfortable sensation, but their flirtatious giggles and admiring sidelong glances were irritating. Not that Ross responded in any way but pleasant courtesy, she had to give him that, but he certainly had to have noticed.
When they were back in the carriage, she sat in a resentful silence, but was only able to maintain it for a few moments. “That was an interesting experience,” she said tartly as they pulled into the street.