Wicked Delights Of A Bridal Bed Page 4

  He was a complex man, she knew, his personality composed of an infinite variety of interests, intellect and desires. He was full of contradictions as well, his reputation shockingly wild on the one hand while his actions could be surprisingly sensible, even staid, on the other. There was a goodness in him that few people saw—or rather that he let people see. But he let her see, and she was grateful for his openness, his candour. She knew she owed it to him to be equally candid.

  “When Claire asks the ladies to withdraw, I’m going upstairs to bed,” she told him. “Please don’t try to persuade me to do otherwise. I cannot bear the idea of returning to the drawing room to sip tea and make pleasant conversation. I can’t pretend to be happy when I’m not.”

  “No one expects you to, Mallory.”

  “Don’t they? It’s been over a year. They all want me to be normal again.” She stopped and drew a calming breath, knowing she should say no more on that subject. “I-I’ll bid you a good night and hope your dreams are sweet.”

  “I shall wish you the same, but first I must ask a favour.”

  Her hand grew still in her lap. “Oh, what is that?”

  “Come riding with me tomorrow. We can set out early before everyone else is stirring and make a morning of it.”

  “I-I’m not sure.”

  “Why not? You’ve always loved to ride.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what? The exercise will do you good. Besides, if you’re out of the house, you can’t very well be expected to paint screens or embroider handkerchiefs.”

  “Claire hates painting screens, so I’m sure that won’t be among the suggested activities. As for handkerchiefs, no one embroiders those in company any longer.”

  “Mayhap not, but there’s certain to be something in the offing. Or maybe I mistake the matter, and you’d rather spend the morning in one of the salons arranging flowers and trading bons mots with the ladies.”

  “What time do we leave?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Seven, if that’s agreeable. It’s full light by then but still too early for most of the guests to be awake and dressed.”

  She wasn’t used to rising that early either, but it would be worth the agony in order to escape the party guests. “Seven it is. I’ll meet you in the stables.”

  “I’ll have the horses saddled and ready.”

  With the sublime timing of a duchess, Claire rose from her place at the far end of the immense dining table, a hush falling over the company. “Ladies,” she announced. “I believe the gentlemen are ready for their port and cigars. Let us repair to the drawing room, where we can enjoy sherry, tea and unpolluted air.”

  Everyone chuckled, the gentlemen rising to their feet to assist the ladies from their chairs.

  Adam leaned over Mallory’s shoulder as she stood. “In the morning,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Until tomorrow.”

  With relief, Mallory made her way out of the dining room, and after employing a small bit of stealth, upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedchamber.

  At ten minutes after seven the following morning, Adam tapped his quirt against the side of one of his polished black Hessians while he waited just outside the stable for Mallory to arrive.

  As promised, the horses were saddled and ready, his roan stallion huffing air through his nose and occasionally tossing his head with an impatience to be off. For Mallory, he’d selected a spirited mare, knowing she wouldn’t enjoy riding an animal with too placid a disposition. Pansy, the grooms had assured him, was an excellent choice despite her uninspiring name.

  One of the barn cats sauntered past, pausing to give him a haughty inspection before continuing on her way with a flick of her slender brown tail.

  He was beginning to wonder if he’d have to go knock on Mallory’s door again when suddenly she was there, slightly breathless as though she’d been rushing. She came to an abrupt halt, her breasts rising and falling beneath the military-style braid and gold buttons that adorned her bodice, the long skirt of her navy blue riding habit gathered heavily over her arm. On her head she wore a tall shako-style hat with a length of white gauze tied around the crown, its ends left to trail down her back.

  “My pardon for being late,” she said. “And before you remark on the sombre colour of my attire, this was the only riding habit Penny could make ready on such short notice. I haven’t been riding in ages, and she did what she could.”

  He smiled and walked forward. “Then you may extend my compliments to your maid since she’s turned you out splendidly. As for your slight tardiness, I’m just glad you are here and didn’t change your mind about going on our outing.”

  “I assumed if I failed to show up, you’d come after me.”

  He laughed, knowing himself fairly caught.

  She drew another deep breath, her breasts rising and falling again in a display of femininity he couldn’t help but admire, particularly when a pair of the buttons gleamed in rather strategic locations.

  “You slept well, I hope,” he said, forcing his thoughts away from her ample charms.

  “Well enough.”

  “Bad dreams?” he asked, knowing her too well not to hear faint undertone in her voice.

  A pair of tiny creases lined her forehead. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Swinging around, she gazed toward their waiting mounts. “The horses are ready, I see, and look eager to be off. Shall we go, my lord?”

  Briefly, he considered pressing the matter of her bad dreams but decided to let her keep her secrets—for now. “Yes, let’s be off before some of the others awaken and decide to wander our way.”

  Needing no further prompting, Mallory went to the mare, taking a minute to rub the animal’s forehead. The horse chuffed with obvious affection.

  “I take it the two of you are acquainted,” he said.

  “Pansy and I are old friends. Ned bought her for me not long after my first Season, and I rode her often that summer and fall. We tried taking her to Town the next spring, but she started nipping at some of the other horses, so we decided she’d feel more comfortable in the country.”

  “Well, she’d better not try nipping Eric, or she might find herself nipped back.”

  “Eric?”

  Adam grinned, the stallion stamping a hoof in acknowledgment of his name. “That’s right. He’s a big, powerful brute, rather like a Viking, so I thought Eric seemed fitting. Plus he has a reddish coat, thus, Eric the Red.”

  Light gleamed in her jewel-toned eyes, and for a fraction of an instant, he thought she might smile. But she didn’t, her mouth remaining set as she moved to lead Pansy toward the mounting block.

  “Allow me,” Adam said, stopping her.

  Before she had time to protest, he settled his hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly upward. Instinctively, she laid her palms against his shoulders, clinging to him as he set her slowly onto the side-saddle. Propriety demanded he release her the moment she regained her balance. Instead, he left one hand curved against the softness of her hip, relishing the sensation of womanly flesh and rich cloth rubbing against his skin as she worked to hook one knee into the saddle and the other foot into its stirrup. If possible, he would have managed the whole procedure for her, sliding his palm beneath her skirt to fit her knee around the pommel, then stroking her bare calf as he eased away.

  But it was far too soon for such bold moves, and considering her current emotional state, he was a cad even to think such things. Then again, he was a man, a sexually healthy adult male who was denying himself the pleasure of a willing bed partner for the duration of this fall season—and quite probably for some long while after. But much as it might pain him, he wanted no one now but Mallory.

  She’ll be mine, he swore to himself. She has to be mine.

  With her securely settled and arranged, he handed her the reins, then turned away to stride to his horse. Swinging up easily into the saddle, he wheeled his stallion around and met Mallory’s gaze. “Ready?” he demanded.

>   She nodded. “Shall we ride toward Snowshill?”

  He nodded back. With a cluck of his tongue, he set Eric in motion, Mallory catching up fast to ride confidently at his side.

  The yards flew past at a comfortable gait, the countryside stretching before them in a collage of shape, colour and texture. The loamy scent of earth and grass mingled with pastoral aromas of grazing sheep and ripening fields of barley and wheat. Thick areas of woodland dotted the landscape in variegated shades of brown and green, while yellow, pink and white flowers nestled beneath the sheltering branches of a forest so ancient only the trees knew their true age.

  Still within the boundaries of Braebourne, they forded a small stream, then rode up the other side to a lush hill that had splendid views of the valley and a small village beyond. To the east stood Braebourne herself, the stately home rising in a splendour of golden Cotswold stone, shimmering glass and hand-cut marble. The grounds were some of the finest in England, Adam agreed, and contained majestic landscaped gardens, a pair of artificial lakes complete with follies and a small, private chapel that was nothing short of an artistic masterpiece.

  Reining in their mounts near a graceful stand of beech and oak trees, he and Mallory paused to appreciate the natural beauty around them. Early-morning sunlight shone from above, the rays warm against her face as she closed her eyes to drink in sensation.

  “Why don’t we stop here for a little while before turning back?” Adam suggested. Without waiting for her agreement, he leapt to the ground and came around to help her dismount.

  After the briefest hesitation, she leaned forward to clutch his wide shoulders and let him swing her to the ground. The clean fragrance of shaving soap, starch, warm leather and man teased her nose at his closeness.

  Releasing her, Adam returned to his horse to gather a blanket and a small wicker hamper. “I had Cook pack us a light repast. I assume you didn’t have time for much of a breakfast this morning.”

  “Only tea,” she admitted, remembering the toast she’d left untouched on the tray Penny had brought to her room. Her stomach gave a painful squeeze, now clearly regretting that decision.

  By mutual agreement, she and Adam chose a comfortable grassy spot with a light dappling of shade that was cast by one of the nearby trees. After helping spread out the blanket, she took a seat, reaching out briefly to arrange the long skirt of her riding habit so it didn’t take up too much room.

  Adam joined her seconds later, dropping down near her side. “Let’s see what Cook sent along,” he said, opening the hamper. Reaching in, he began laying out the items. “Cheese, a soft sheep’s milk from the look of it, and biscuits. Scones with butter and honey. Two wedges of beef pie. A quarter of a cold chicken and…” He paused, digging into a far corner of the basket. “…two fresh peaches and pears. Oh, and there’s a flagon of small beer and a tin of milk as well.”

  “Heavens. I thought you said it was a ‘light repast’!”

  He grinned and passed her a linen napkin. “I believe Cook is concerned about you and may have overdone.”

  Beneath her breath, she gave a light grumble.

  His smile widened. “Eat what you want. There’s no requirement we finish all of this. So, how would you care to begin? Cheese on a biscuit or a wedge of this pie? It smells so good, it’s making my mouth water.”

  “Cheese, I think, and maybe one of the scones,” she said. “And the ale is all yours by the way. I don’t care for it in the least.”

  “That’s why we get on so well, Mal, since the idea of drinking milk for breakfast fairly curdles my stomach.” Closing his eyes, he stuck out his tongue and gave a mock shudder.

  Without realizing, her lips started to curve upward with humour, then abruptly she stopped. With a scowl, she glanced away, biting into the crisp, cheese-covered biscuit she held in order to cover her discomfort. If Adam noticed her brief inner turmoil, he didn’t comment, apparently content to begin his own meal.

  They ate in companionable silence, listening to the birds chirp in the trees and the occasional buzz of a honeybee as it droned from flower to flower in search of pollen. The sun was full now in the sky, the temperature rising as the hour progressed. Luckily a light breeze was blowing that kept the air from turning too hot, the weather just right for an alfresco meal.

  To her surprise, she ate far more than she intended, finishing her biscuit and cheese, half a buttered scone, one of the peaches and two mouthfuls of chicken that Adam pressed her to try. She was more than well satisfied by the time she stopped, glad for the exercise the ride home would provide.

  While Adam polished off the second wedge of beef pie and the last of the small beer, she began repacking the wicker hamper. As she did, a yawn caught her, one that was sharp enough to draw tears.

  “Stars, I’m sleepy all of a sudden,” she confessed. “Too much breakfast.”

  He cast her a knowing look. “Not enough sleep, I suspect.” Wiping his hands clean on a napkin, he placed a last couple of items she’d missed back in the hamper, then closed the top and set it aside. “Why don’t you lie down for a few minutes?”

  “Oh, I’ll be all right,” she said, then just as quickly had to lift a hand to cover another sudden yawn.

  Adam chuckled and shook his head. “Stretch out and close your eyes. It’s quiet here and comfortable.”

  “We should be getting back.”

  “There’s no rush. Besides, in your current state, you might fall asleep on Pansy and topple off.”

  Hearing her name, the horse’s head came up. She gave a whinny and tossed her head up and down.

  Adam laughed. “See? Pansy agrees. She thinks you should take a nap rather than taking the risk of injuring yourself on the ride home.”

  “She thinks no such thing, and I wouldn’t topple off.”

  Nod off, perhaps, Mallory admitted to herself, as she fought a deep wave of weariness.

  Lie down, Adam had said. How incredibly tempting his suggestion was. And how incredibly easy too. All she had to do was stretch out on the blanket and close her eyes. Of course, doing so would be completely improper. Ladies didn’t go to sleep in the presence of gentlemen to whom they were not related. Then again, if she was concerned about the proprieties, she wouldn’t have ridden out alone with Adam at all. Or eaten breakfast with him out of doors with no one around for miles.

  Realizing she was being foolish, she covered another yawn with her hand, then nodded, scooting lower on the blanket so she could lie back and still have room to rest her head on the blanket.

  “Hold there,” he said, stopping her gently. “You’ll never get any rest wearing that hat.”

  “Oh, I guess you’re right.” Blinking against her sleepiness, she reached up to tug free the pins that anchored the bonnet in place. But he stopped her again, setting her hands into her lap before reaching up to ease the pins from her hair.

  Despite her tiredness, her heart pumped faster, blood beating in thick pulses as her eyes slid closed. She swayed, her body tingling, as his large hands moved tenderly around her head. His fingers brushed lightly over her temples and cheeks and the back of her head as he pulled out the pins. After lifting the hat away, he reached up to smooth her tresses.

  “Sleep now, Mallory,” he murmured, cradling her against him as he eased both of them down to lie side by side on their backs.

  She made some faint demur when he tucked her closer, angling her so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder. But she was too sleepy and wonderfully relaxed to care, knowing she was safe and secure in his arms. Letting go, she drifted into a deep slumber.

  At her side, Adam was awake, his pulse pounding out a heavy, satisfying beat at the sheer pleasure of holding her so close. He was aroused as well, his shaft hard, his body throbbing with a gnawing, visceral ache. But the sexual need was a mere distraction compared to the sheer joy of lying with her as she slept. He smiled, revelling in the knowledge that she trusted him enough to let down her guard and forget her pain, even if only for a br
ief while.

  Closing his eyes, he breathed in the sweet jasmine scent of her skin, wishing he could pull the rest of the pins from her hair so the thick mass would tumble like waves of dark silk over his chest. Not for the first time, he wondered what her hair looked like when it was down. Did the strands trail to the middle of her back or lower still?

  Images flashed in his mind of her rising above him, her tresses falling forward to surround their faces while she kissed him and he kissed her back. They would be long and passionate, those kisses, sultry and seductive in a way neither of them would be able to resist or forget.

  A sudden, intense throb in his groin brought him abruptly back to reality. Stifling a groan, he struggled to force the fantasy away. Once he had himself firmly under control, he angled his head to study her, smiling again to see her so deeply asleep. Unable to resist, he brushed his mouth against her cheek and forehead, her skin as smooth as satin beneath his lips.

  With a sigh, she burrowed closer against him.

  Swallowing a fresh groan, he stared up at the sky and let her sleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ever so slowly, Mallory came awake.

  At first she didn’t move, far too warm and contented to do more than float in that deliciously drowsy state that was halfway between wakefulness and sleep. Snuggling closer against her pillow, she let her mind drift, aware that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept so well or so peacefully.

  Months, it seemed, or was it years?

  She frowned at the question, then frowned again harder when she realized that her pillow was firmer than usual, nothing the least bit goose-feathery about it. Even odder was the sound it was making, a steady, rhythmic beat that was almost like a heart.