One that had clearly dazzled her more than Adam.
All she had to do was look at him to confirm that fact, since he seemed his usual calm, sophisticated self, unruffled and apparently unaffected as well. Considering all the women he must have kissed in his two-and-thirty years, why should she be surprised? She was just one among many, she supposed, memorable only by virtue of the fact that she was his long-time friend.
No wonder he was so unfazed.
For all she knew, maybe he hadn’t enjoyed their kiss at all. And if that were true, what must his touch be like when he really wanted a woman?
Her brows drew into a frown.
Adam cocked his head. “Shall we stay and eat, or would you rather ride home?”
A mere half an hour ago, she would have opted to ride straight home. But a strange restfulness seemed to have invaded her system, along with a sense of shared understanding. Adam knew what it was to grieve. He’d experienced loss and come out the other side. As for his rather high-handed kiss, she supposed she couldn’t hold it against him, not when she knew his intentions had been good.
Besides, she’d left the house again this morning without eating breakfast, and quite suddenly she realized she was starving.
“A light meal wouldn’t go amiss,” she admitted. “But don’t think we’re going to make a habit of riding together and sharing a meal in this spot every morning.”
“Of course not,” he said solemnly. Then he ruined the effect by smiling, his face so handsome her breath caught at the sight.
It’s only the kiss, she told herself, and she would forget it in a trice. She and Adam were friends, no more, no less, and he was only devoting himself to her at present because of that friendship.
For now, she would let herself take advantage of his kindness and hope it helped her heal. Beyond that, she didn’t know. She would deal with each day as it came, she decided, and care naught for the future.
While he returned to the horses, she waited as he retrieved a blanket and the small hamper Cook had packed. After seeing to their seating arrangements, he helped her settle comfortably across from him on the blanket, then he opened the basket.
“Sausage links or ham biscuits?”
Her stomach rumbled at the savoury scents. “One of each please. I’m utterly famished.”
Grinning in clear approval, he filled her plate.
CHAPTER 7
In spite of Mallory’s statement that she and Adam wouldn’t make a habit of riding out together every morning, that’s precisely what they ended up doing over the course of the next ten days.
Each morning Mallory met Adam at the stables, where they would mount their horses and make the ride to what she now thought of as “their” hill. Once there, they would laze away the next few hours, seated on a lawn blanket while they ate whatever delicacies Cook had packed for them. Their conversations ranged from intense to sublime, as they explored any number of subjects and opinions.
After that emotionally charged day when she’d sobbed out her grief in Adam’s arms, she knew she could talk to him about anything. Yet neither of them spoke again about the loved ones they’d lost, perhaps because they’d already said everything that needed to be said.
And then there were the times when they didn’t say anything at all, content in the quiet as they enjoyed the simple pleasure and peacefulness of being in each other’s company.
But as Mallory stood gazing out her bedroom window on the morning of the house party’s thirteenth day, she knew there would be no outing with Adam today.
Lumbering grey clouds with sinister black underbellies crowded the sky, rain already beginning to pour in a way that heralded a full day of heavy precipitation. Soon, the ground would be saturated, the mud puddles and sodden grass that squished underfoot sure to keep everyone else inside as well.
Briefly, she considered climbing back into bed but crossed to ring for Penny instead.
Less than a minute later, a light rap came at the door.
“Come in,” she called, surprised her maid had made it upstairs so quickly.
But it wasn’t Penny who entered the room, as a pair of silvery blue eyes peered around the doorjamb. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?” Meg inquired, opening the door wider so she could fit her rounded figure past the threshold. She wore a royal purple silk dressing gown that looked beautiful against her fair skin and ash-blond hair.
“No, not at all,” Mallory said.
“It’s so gloomy outside, I thought I noticed candlelight under the door and hoped you were awake.”
“You did, and I am. But what are you doing up so early? I would have thought you’d still be abed.”
Moving farther into the room, Meg stopped and rested a hand on her protruding belly, rubbing her palm in an easy circle. “I would be if it weren’t for this little one. He’s been kicking half the night and keeping me and Cade awake. I finally decided to get up and see if walking around might calm him.”
“Has it?”
Meg gave a rueful smile. “No. He’s just as active as ever. I expect it won’t be long now before he arrives. Maximillian was the same way that last month, constantly turning over and pummelling me under the ribs. I told Cade then that he wouldn’t need to enrol him at Gentleman Jackson’s since he’s already proficient at the science of boxing.”
The corner of Mallory’s lips twitched at the image, thinking of her little nephew, who was already a scamp and a handsome, green-eyed charmer at the young age of two. No doubt this new baby would follow in his footsteps.
“But come and have a seat,” Mallory said, gesturing toward the sofa. “Penny should be along any minute now.”
“Are you sure? You probably want to go back to bed yourself, what with this rain.”
“No, I’m up for the day, and since I can’t go riding, I was thinking about having breakfast here in my room. Would you care to join me?”
Meg’s face lit up. “Well, I could use a bite. Then again, I’m always ready to eat these days. I swear no matter how much I consume, I’m still starving.”
“Sit then, and I’ll order us a feast.”
“Ooh, a feast,” Meg said as she carefully eased herself onto the sofa. “I like the sound of that. Neville does too.”
Mallory lifted a brow. “Neville?”
Meg grinned. “The baby. It’s what I’ve taken to calling him lately.”
Mallory took a seat next to her sister-in-law, tucking the edges of her own apricot silk dressing gown closer around her legs. “Are you calling him Neville then?”
A laugh rippled from Meg’s lips. “No, but don’t tell Cade. He can’t abide the name and bristles up every time I use it. I know it’s terrible of me, but I cannot resist teasing him. Before Neville, it was Orson and Filbert. He doesn’t like any of them.”
“I can’t say I do either.”
Meg laughed again. “You don’t think we should add an Orson Byron to the family?”
A tap sounded at the door, and Penny came in, interrupting the frivolity.
Mallory had just asked her maid to send down to the kitchen for breakfast when another blond head peered around the door.
“I couldn’t help but hear you talking,” Claire said. “What are you two doing up?”
“What are you doing up?” Meg said, as Claire strolled deeper into the room.
“Early-morning feeding in the nursery, you should know all about those, Meg. I just got the baby down again and was on my way back to bed when I heard the commotion.”
“We’re hardly making enough noise for a commotion,” Meg declared. “But we are having a nice visit. Oh!” She jumped faintly, bracing for a moment before rubbing a hand over her stomach again. “Definitely another boxer on the way and not a little angel like your Hannah, no matter if Cade is hoping for a daughter.”
Claire smiled, her gaze alive with warmth and love. “Hannah is a sweetheart. I have to admit I’ve never seen a sunnier, more contented baby. Well, except for Nicola maybe.”
“What’s this about Nicola?” said Grace, who moved into the room. “My mother’s hearing improves whenever anyone mentions my little girl’s name.”
“I was saying what wonderful babies she and Hannah are,” Claire stated.
Grace’s mouth turned up. “They are. Jack says God doesn’t make them any sweeter than Byron girls.”
“Jack is right,” Claire agreed.
“If we could table this baby admiration society for a moment,” Meg interjected, “I believe Penny was on her way downstairs to get us some breakfast.”
“Oh, that’s where I was headed when I heard all of you,” Grace said.
“To the kitchen at this hour? Why are you awake and so hungry you can’t wait until breakfast is served in the morning room?”
“Jack had me up, and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” A faint dusting of colour crept into Grace’s cheek.
“Had you up, did he?” Claire waggled her pale brows and gave a naughty grin that no proper duchess should wear. “Edward often has me up at dawn too, but somehow I never seem to mind.”
“Cade does the same, not lately though,” Meg offered. “With all my tossing and turning, he’s so tired by dawn, the poor dear takes advantage of every minute of sleep he can manage.”
The ladies laughed.
Everyone, that is, but Mallory, who found herself wondering if she ought to have covered her ears. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t mind being privy to a bit of spicy conversation, but not about her brothers!
As if aware of her reaction, Grace sent her a look of apology. “Sorry, Mallory. We’ll try to behave.”
“You’re right, Grace,” Claire agreed. “We’re probably shocking Mallory to pieces, not to mention poor Penny, who’s turned at least three shades of pink since we began this conversation.”
Turning to her hovering maid, Mallory nodded for her to be on her way. “Breakfast for four, if you please.”
“Five actually,” Grace piped. “That’s the other reason I’m so hungry this morning. I’m expecting again.”
Cheers and exclamations went up, everyone rushing to hug Grace—everyone, that is, except Meg, who maintained her spot on the sofa as she reached up her arms for an embrace, which Grace returned with alacrity.
Mallory brushed a kiss against Grace’s cheek. “I’m so happy for you!”
“Maybe a boy this time.” Grace grinned, her blue-grey eyes sparkling with unconcealed joy. “Though a second girl would be wonderful too. Oh, just listen to me carry on.”
Mallory swallowed down the sudden lump that rose in her throat before nodding again toward Penny. “Five breakfasts then, or shall we make it six for Neville?” she added with a glance at Meg.
Meg hooted with laughter and patted her stomach. The others demanded to know who this Neville was, to which she jovially began to explain.
“What’s all this?” India asked as she came through the doorway. Her dressing gown swirled around her ankles, her long black hair pulled back into a tie at her nape. “Are you having a party?”
“A celebration actually,” Claire stated, going on to share Grace’s good news.
Mallory threw up her hands in surrender. “Just tell Cook to prepare a lot of food, Penny. And you’d better run on quickly before the rest of the household arrives.”
Grinning, the servant bobbed her head and hurried from the room.
“Well then, India,” Claire demanded. “Why are you awake? Baby or husband?”
With his usual ride with Mallory out of the question because of the rainstorm, Adam took his time bathing, shaving and getting dressed. Standing in shirtsleeves and waistcoat, he sat down at the polished walnut writing desk to pen a brief missive to Mallory. Halfway through, however, he abandoned the effort and shrugged into his coat instead.
If Mallory was still abed, he would leave word with her maid to have her join him when she was ready. At least he hoped she would join him rather than spend the day alone in her room. Even now she still tended to avoid the house-party gatherings except for meals, which she attended with solemn aplomb.
Leaving his room, he strode down the wide corridors, his boots soundless on the soft Aubusson carpets. As he walked, he passed an impressive collection of paintings done by masters both old and new, including one Caravaggio, a Rembrandt and a Turner. On the air drifted the rich scents of polished wood, beeswax candles, hothouse roses and hydrangeas—large urns and vases full of the fresh flowers arranged throughout the house.
A colourful display of pink and white zinnias stood on a small table across from Mallory’s bedchamber. He was considering taking one to give to her when he heard feminine laughter coming from her room—lots of feminine laughter.
Curious, he crossed to the half-open door and gave a light rap.
“Oh, I do hope that’s the housemaid with more crumpets,” said a voice that he recognized as belonging to Meg Byron. “The first basket wasn’t nearly enough.”
He pushed the door wider and entered the room. “Sorry to disappoint you, your ladyship, but I arrive empty-handed. Though had I known you were in dire want of crumpets, I would have nipped down to the kitchen first and brought you up a fresh basket or two.”
Exclamations erupted from the five ladies present as he stepped inside to find the group arranged around the room, some seated in chairs and others on the sofa, including Mallory, who sat next to Meg.
“Adam Gresham!” Claire said. “Count on finding you lurking outside a lady’s bedchamber so early in the morning.”
He sent her a carefree smile. “Oh, you’ll find that I enjoy lurking outside ladies’ bedchambers at all hours of the day—and night.”
Feminine chuckles floated in the air, although he noticed that Mallory didn’t join in. Outside, the rain continued to pour, thunder crashing in loud bursts, while a rough wind rattled the windowpanes. But the women all looked relaxed and cozy in spite of the inclement weather.
“As you can see, we’ve descended on Mallory and are having breakfast in her room,” Claire continued with a good-natured smile. “I suppose it would be highly improper to ask you to join us, my lord, particularly since none of us are dressed for the day.”
“You appear sufficiently clothed to my way of thinking, and looking as lovely as a rose garden in full bloom. But alas, you are right about the impropriety of my remaining, not to mention the challenges I would likely receive from your husbands. Were one of them to find me with you, they might think I was trying to form a harem.”
All of the women gasped, even Mallory, before releasing a fresh burst of laughter.
“I believe it is that other Byron, the poet, who is interested in harems, my lord,” India remarked, once she had recovered sufficient breath. “Surely you do not subscribe to such goings-on?”
“No, indeed. Such notions are far, far too shocking,” he said with great seriousness, then ruined the effect by winking.
They laughed again.
“I’m afraid, dear ladies, that I must withdraw and leave you to your repast,” he said. “Ah, and just in time since the maid is here with your extra crumpets.”
While the others began dividing up their new bounty, Adam turned to Mallory, lowering his voice. “If you aren’t too famished and can tear yourself away, might I have a word?”
“Of course,” Mallory agreed.
Grace and Meg were playfully fighting over the last of the strawberry preserves as Adam stepped aside to let Mallory lead the way from the room. He couldn’t help but admire the view as he followed her out, her slim hips swaying in a most enticing fashion beneath the skirts of her dressing gown. Of equal fascination was her hair, which hung in thick, raven-dark waves all the way to her hips.
So now I know just how long it is, he mused with a wolfish inner smile. He flexed his fingers at his sides, wishing he could stop her so that he might caress the shining strands. He’d pet her like a cat and make her purr. Then he would bury his hands in the lush, silken depths, kiss her wildly and make her purr some more.
Mallory drew to a halt in the corridor just outside her bedroom door and turned to face him.
Luckily, he had a great deal of practice at controlling his features; otherwise, his expression would surely have given away his libidinous musings.
“Why don’t we walk on a little farther?” he suggested in an even tone. “The ladies may be busy with their tea and crumpets and conversation, but their ears are still in excellent working order.”
Her aquamarine eyes sparkled at his remark. Nodding, she continued down the hallway, pausing only when she reached an alcove near the end. “Will this do?”
He glanced at the recessed window seat, then nodded. “It should do nicely. Shall we sit?”
Gathering her skirts, she lowered herself onto the padded blue damask cushion. Adam joined her, angling himself so he could gaze into her beautiful face and watch the parade of emotions that never lay too far below the surface.
Unwittingly, Mallory had chosen an intimate spot, the dark sky outside casting them in shadows and seclusion. He supposed this wasn’t the best place to sit and one he probably shouldn’t have encouraged. And yet, he couldn’t resist, no more than he could resist Mallory herself.
“So, what is it you have to tell me that the others oughtn’t hear?” she asked, leaning toward him with an old eagerness that pleased and relieved him to see. Perhaps her spirits were slowly beginning to improve.
“Nothing. I just wanted to wish you a good morning without our having an audience,” he told her.
“Oh.” Her shoulders drooped with obvious dismay.
He hid a smile. “You were expecting something else?”
“No.” Her brows knitted above her eyes. “Yes. Oh, I don’t know. It’s just that you took such pains to prize me from the others that I thought…well, that it must be something a bit more important.”
“Saying good morning to you is important. And I never mind prizing you away from anyone, since you are nothing less than a prize. A perfect, wonderful prize that, like a greedy child, I would prefer never being made to share.”
She stared at him for a pronounced moment before the corners of her mouth edged up, and she shook her head with amusement. “Adam, the things you say sometimes. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were flirting with me.”
Wicked Delights Of A Bridal Bed Page 7