“You . . . you won’t have her,” she stated again. “Not before Roberts warms my bed.”
Waltham let out a grunt of frustration, losing any appearance of control now. “What is it about that scoundrel that so captivates you?” he asked, his voice shaking.
“He’s most charming,” Priscilla answered. “And a more handsome man I’ve yet to meet.”
Waltham’s anger flared to full force. “Roberts, that bastard,” he growled. “I’m sick and tired of that man’s many attributes falling from the lips of every woman in England!”
“What?” Priscilla asked. “Does another woman have designs on him?”
Waltham shook his head as if to clear it and managed to smile once more at her. He grabbed her roughly by her arms, bringing his lips to her ear. Priscilla gasped as she felt his body pressed so intimately to hers. She could smell the scent of arousal on him, could feel his hardness against her belly.
“Priscilla,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet and as hard as his cock. “You have no claim upon the charming Lord Roberts. Nor any upon my own manly self, for that matter.”
Her mouth gaped open at that. She struggled to release herself from his hold on her. “How dare you?” she sputtered, incensed. “If you believe that you can simply use me and—”
Waltham pushed her away from him, letting his eyes run over her. Priscilla’s blood raced at the carnal glint in his pale eyes.
“You need to remember your place, my dear,” he said, his eyes boring into hers.
Her breath caught as she ran her own eyes over him, his aroused state obvious through his thin tan breeches. She licked her lips in nervous anticipation. “And,” she began in a whisper, “precisely where is my place, Thomas?”
Waltham grinned savagely as he began to unbutton his breeches. “Why, on your knees, of course.”
* * *
When Catherine returned to the townhouse, she was quite done in. Her errands were not without success, as she’d managed to choose quite a few fabrics and designs during her visit with the seamstress. However when she stopped at her father’s home, she’d curiously found her sister absent. Despite the fact that she’d wished for her father and Elizabeth to be together when she told them about the baby, she’d given her happy news to the earl alone. Lord Talbot was so pleased that his blue eyes had fairly shone with it, his strong arms grabbing her up in a great bear hug. She’d laughed and laughed as he’d twirled her about the room.
After stopping to pay a few overdue calls on several friends of hers, Catherine was quite relieved to step back up into the carriage and head for home. When she arrived back at the townhouse, she was famished, as well. Why, she’d eaten a hearty meal with her father only a few hours ago! Perhaps she’d have need of those new dresses sooner rather than later.
She quickly changed into her tea gown and went downstairs to the parlor. She settled herself upon the oversized chair, brushing her hands over her skirt as Giles entered the room with a heavily-laden silver tray. She took note of the fact that Giles had thoughtfully included a pot of honey to accompany her tea and biscuits and smiled cheekily at him.
“Giles,” she playfully chided, “you’ll spoil me terribly.”
“Never, my lady,” he returned with a bow. “The viscount would have my head if I didn’t anticipate your every whim.”
Catherine laughed at that ridiculous and endearing statement and poured herself a cup of tea. Giles bowed once more and left her to her repast.
Still smiling, she chose a biscuit from the tray and reached for the honey pot. The fluffy cookies were delicious on their own, but with the honey drizzled over them, she found them absolutely scrumptious. She happily proceeded to consume her fill of the sweet tea and the delectable biscuits.
“Mmm.” She sighed as she finally sat back, one hand pressed to her stomach.
She lifted her other hand to her lips and daintily licked at her fingertips.
“That good, is it?” James said from the doorway, startling her.
“James!” she exclaimed, her eyes flying open.
He walked into the room, a wide smile on his face. “You resemble a cat who’s just finished off a bowl of cream, love.”
She sat up and grinned at him. “Not quite,” she answered. “But I did eat a fair amount of these biscuits. They’re heavenly, James. You must try them with the honey.”
James joined her on the chair and reached for a biscuit. Her hand stilled his.
“Let me,” she said, breaking off a piece of the sweet cookie.
She drizzled honey on the cookie and held it before him. James let her feed him. After a few bites, he gently grasped her wrist and licked the honey from her fingers, his eyes staring into hers. He pressed her hand against his chest.
“Catherine,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, James,” she said in a whisper.
He brought his lips to hers, letting his tongue slowly explore her mouth. “You taste incredible.”
“It’s the honey.”
“Mmm. Honey.” He kissed her again. “And Catherine.” He pulled back and smiled, gently patting her stomach. “How do you feel today, love?”
“Fine,” she returned, placing her hand over his.
“And you, little mite?” he directed toward her belly.
Catherine smiled. “I’m certain the babe is fine, as well,” she said. “And as happily stuffed on biscuits as its mother.”
His laughter joined hers as he hugged her gently. They finished their tea and discussed the coming evening’s activities.
“I ran into Chester this morning,” he told her. “He and Constance returned to town early, as well.”
“Oh, we simply must call on them,” Catherine said with a smile. “How are they?”
“Constance wasn’t with him,” he answered. “Apparently, she’s been feeling a bit under the weather.”
“Oh,” she said, “I do hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Chester didn’t appear overly worried. They’d like us to visit them this evening. For cards and other amusements.”
“That would be most pleasant, James.”
“Eager to make the rounds?” he teased.
“I confess that with Michelle busy helping Paul with their speeches, I’ve been quite starved of female companionship of late.”
James chuckled and held her close. “Then we shall remedy the situation directly. Perhaps then, love,” he added with a grin, “you can show your poor husband some much needed companionship.”
“Oh, James.” She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck.
* * *
That evening at the Earl of Chester’s townhouse, the four of them sat in the parlor and played a game of Whist. As play went around the table, they chatted amiably about the coming round of parties as Easter was but two weeks away.
“Constance,” Catherine said, looking absently at the cards in her hands. “You’ve been ill?”
Constance nodded, a small smile on her face. Chester nodded to his wife, an obvious sign of encouragement.
She set her cards down on the table and widened her smile. “Catherine,” she began, “Roberts. We’re expecting.”
Catherine gave an excited squeal and stood, embracing her friend. James shook Chester’s hand, pulling the man up out of his chair.
“Oh, Constance!” Catherine gushed. “I’m so happy for you both.” She pulled back. “Have you seen Dr. Morgan?”
“Yes,” Constance returned. “Our children will be born scarcely a month apart, Catherine.”
Catherine blinked and looked at James.
“You know, then?” James asked them. “Morgan told you?”
“No,” Chester answered, hiding his grin.
“Then how did you learn of it?” James asked.
Chester barked out a laugh. “You don’t believe your brother-in-law is capable of keeping such news a secret, do you?”
“Hardly,” James allowed with a chuckle.
“Indeed. But only the smallest amount for the little hens, please,” James added with a grin.
Catherine clicked her tongue at him and sat once more. As the ladies compared symptoms, the gentlemen fairly beamed with pride. Catherine wouldn’t think about the love match Constance had made. They were both blessed with attentive husbands and would soon be doubly blessed with their babies.
They called an early end to the evening in deference to the ladies’ conditions. After making plans to attend the opera together the next week, James took Catherine home. They readied for bed shortly thereafter.
“James,” she said as she sat in front of her vanity, “I’m so happy for Chester and Constance.”
“As am I, love,” he returned, stepping from the dressing room.
“I’m afraid that Constance still has a few weeks of sickness ahead of her.”
She rose and walked over to where he stood beside the bed, magnificent in his satin dressing gown. She had fond memories of this dressing gown. That first night, when she’d gone to him.
He placed his hands upon her shoulders, lightly caressing her through her nightgown and wrapper. “And what of you, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing her shoulders. “Are you truly fine now?”
She smiled up at him. “Yes, James,” she said, untying the belt of her wrapper. “Quite fine.”
His eyes glittered as he ran his gaze over her. He placed his hands on her waist, easily spanning the space with his hands.
“You’re still so small,” he said, his brow slightly furrowed. “Are you certain all is well?”
“I daresay I’ll soon swell, husband,” she said, moving his hand down to the spot just below her navel. “Do you not feel that?”
James’s hand cupped the tiny bulge she showed him. He looked up at her, a big grin on his face. “Our baby grows,” he said in awe.
Catherine simply nodded. He placed a kiss on her belly and she drew in a breath. He came up quickly and captured her lips. She opened for him as she wound her arms around his neck. Holding her beneath her bottom, James turned and fell with her upon the bed. Their nightclothes were soon in a heap on the floor as he placed teasing kisses over every inch of her body. He lavished attention on her sensitive nipples, nipping and licking them thoroughly. She whimpered as he brushed his lips over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. She could feel his hot breath near her very center.
“James, please,” she urged, wild for his possession.
“Hmm?” he murmured. “What is it, darling?” he asked between kisses.
She cried out in frustration and pulled his hair. “James . . . !”
He laughed then, a slightly-strangled sound. With a soft groan, he lowered his head and touched his mouth to her.
Catherine nearly screamed as his tongue flicked over her hot flesh, driving her toward ecstasy. Her body arched wildly. When his fingers moved inside of her, she did scream, her climax running through her like a bolt of lightning.
James lifted his head and stroked her as her passion eased. “I love the way you respond to me, Catherine,” he rasped.
Before she could ponder that statement, he was inside of her, his thrusts deep. She clung to him as he drove into her, bringing her closer to her second release.
“Please—” she whimpered, her nails raking his back.
James whispered her name in answer, his control rapidly falling away. When she pulled him down to her for a kiss, he lost that control, giving a great shout as he exploded inside of her. Before he could ease his thrusts, she joined him in fulfillment, arching off the bed and taking all of him deep inside of her.
When their breathing eased, he lifted his head. “There’s no other woman in the world for me, Catherine.”
Sweet words, if a little strange. She opened her eyes, gazing up at him.
“I love you, James,” she whispered, stroking his face.
“Catherine,” was all he could say. “I . . . Ah, Catherine.”
Catherine fancied she could see the love in his beautiful eyes. If he never said the words, it wouldn’t matter.
Chapter 25
The week after they learned of Chester and Constance’s happy news, Catherine and James prepared for an evening at the opera. She realized with regret that the opera house would no doubt be much more crowded than the theater had been scant weeks earlier. It was nearly Easter, and all and sundry would be returning to town with a vengeance.
Catherine donned a beautiful gown of emerald green, quite sophisticated in design. The low-cut bodice hugged her figure and, while her waist was still small, her breasts were larger than they’d been when she was measured for the dress prior to her wedding. As she had for weeks now, she left off her stays.
She patted the curls piled on top of her head and stood in front of the cheval mirror, worrying over the expanse of flesh fairly threatening to spill over the top of her gown. Taking one of the thick curls, she draped it over her bosom, chagrined that it did nothing to hide her bosom from view. She turned her head as James strode out of the dressing room.
“Oh, James,” she said in mild irritation. “What am I going to do?”
“About what, love?” he asked absently, his attention focused on the precise tying of his cravat.
He wore black breeches with a waistcoat of deep blue. After shrugging into his charcoal gray jacket, he crossed to her. As his gaze swept over her, his eyes widened in obvious masculine appreciation.
“My God,” he whispered, his eyes on her creamy flesh. “You look . . . You don’t think to wear that dress to the opera, do you?”
“Yes.” Catherine placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “What am I going to do about these?”
He chuckled. “I believe I may have a notion or two.”
“James, I’m serious.”
“Don’t fret about it, love,” he said, placing his hands on her waist. “We’re sharing a box with Chester, and he’s hopelessly devoted to his wife.”
“Thankfully, yes,” she said with a sigh.
“But know this, wife,” James added. “Don’t think to step one foot out of that box without me on your arm.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she returned with a cheeky grin. She glanced once more in the mirror. “Perhaps I’ll keep on my wrap,” she muttered.
Still chuckling, James led her from the room and down to the waiting carriage.
There was quite a crowd of patrons at the opera when they arrived and they hastened to join Chester and Constance in their box. Catherine was thrilled with their position, as it was well above the main floor and she could watch the people milling about below. Their friends were already there and she and Constance immediately began to remark upon all that were in attendance, spying several acquaintances whom they hadn’t seen since the conclusion of the previous Season last August.
As the ladies ogled the crowd below, James and Chester spoke of some business matters. It was soon time for the performance to begin. They settled back in their velvet and gilded chairs and watched the stage intently as the musicians tuned their instruments.
The voices of the performers on stage were quite overpowering, and soon Catherine yearned for intermission to arrive. She fidgeted in her seat and let out a soft sigh.
James took her hand in his and leaned over, placing his lips near her ear. “Are you growing tired, sweetheart?”
“What? Oh, no,” she answered with a sheepish grin. “Although I do admit that I find the performance quite tiresome.”
He laughed out loud at that, causing several heads to turn in their direction. Schooling his expression, he simply nodded.
“There will be a break soon, love,” he promised. He flicked his head toward the stage, indicating a very large woman with a very large mouth. “Surely her voice is driving the horses out front quite mad,” he added in a whisper.
Catherine bit her lip to keep her own
laughter from bubbling out. She shook her head at him and held more tightly to his hand.
Intermission soon arrived, much to Catherine’s relief. She stood and stretched with a soft groan. As she looked over at Constance, she found her friend looking a bit pale.
“Constance, are you feeling quite all right?”
Chester’s head turned sharply toward his wife. “What is it, love?” he asked worriedly.
Constance managed a weak smile. “I assure you all that I’m just fine, if a little tired,” she said easily. “I could do with some refreshment, however.”
“Allow me,” James said, coming to his feet.
He dropped a kiss on Catherine’s cheek and left the box, bound for the refreshment table. Constance turned to find her husband still wearing his worried frown.
“Perhaps we could take a turn about the lobby, husband?” she asked him.
Chester, relief clear on his face, nodded and took his wife’s arm. “Catherine, do you care to join us?”
“No thank you, Lord Chester,” Catherine answered. “I believe I’ll wait here for James’s return.”
Chester nodded and led his wife from the box. Catherine sat herself down once more and peered over the railing at the crowd below, her eyes searching for James’s dark head, his fine figure. Unable to spot him in the throng, she sighed and settled back in her chair.
“Are you having a pleasant evening, Catherine?” a feminine voice asked from beside her.
Catherine turned with a start. “Lady Brookdale!” She recovered herself and managed a small smile. “You startled me.”
“So sorry,” Priscilla said smoothly. She sat herself in the chair James had recently vacated and brushed her fingers over the sleeve of her brocade gown. “The performance leaves something to be desired, does it not?”
“A bit, yes,” Catherine allowed.
Priscilla ran her eyes over Catherine, apparently searching for some flaw. She gave a false smile. “I believe we share the same taste in a great many endeavors, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Hmm?” Catherine murmured. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”
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