At the Earl's Convenience (8 page)

Selina wished he would tell her the reason why he’d left her alone on their wedding day. She suspected there was far more to that distressing event than what had initially occurred to her.

“I decided that very night that, if I survived the war, I would marry you,” he said, taking a sip of tea.

Pleased that he cared a little for her, at least, it still irked her that he’d taken her for granted. “How could you be so certain I’d still be single?”

He brushed a hand through his fair hair, which settled into neat waves. She admired her handwork and longed to rake her fingers through it again. “I wasn’t of course,” he said. “But I knew you to be an intelligent woman, Selina. You wouldn’t fall for a rake or a fortune hunter. That left marrying for love or for physical attraction.” He grinned. “And I knew you fancied me.”

She grew hot with indignation. “Oh, the size of your head, my lord! It’s a wonder you can fit on your hat! I’ve long suspected you were insufferable. And it appears I was right.”

A smiled lifted the corner of his mouth. He raised his eyebrows. “Insufferable?”

Insufferable and impossibly gorgeous, but she wasn’t about to stroke his ego. Many women would have done it before her.

His blue eyes searched hers. “When I came home on leave and asked you to marry me that first time, why did you turn me down flat?”

“You mean your unromantic proposal, which was more of an afterthought? When your intention was to secure an heir and return to fight? I suppose I was underwhelmed.” It had been pure self-preservation. She couldn’t bear to marry him and have him be gone for years, leaving her to worry about him. And if he’d been killed, she wouldn’t have wanted to live.

He raised a brow but didn’t pursue it. “I’m confident we can rub along together reasonably well. If you’ll stop fussing over me like a mother.”

“You like my fussing. You just won’t admit it.” She teased him, hoping he meant it.

He threw back his head and laughed.

She loved to hear him laugh; his voice was deep, warm, and rich. She hoped to make him laugh like that often through the years of their marriage. But good marriages grew strong through years of devotion. How close would she and Devereux be in five years, ten?

“I’m damn tired of being sick,” he said, sobering. “I know I make a poor patient. And you are patience personified.”

“After dinner I’ll play cards or chess with you,” she said, offering him a panacea.

“You are a conniving woman. You wish to distract me.” He quirked a brow. “Are you confident you can beat me at piquet?”

“I shall certainly try.”

He grinned. “Please do, otherwise it will be too easy.”

“We mustn’t make you too excited,” she said with a smile.

“Oh no,” he said crossly. “We can’t have that!”

Chapter Ten

Giles couldn’t keep hold of the anger and disillusionment that his situation had thrown him in. Not when his pretty wife greeted him every morning and entertained him in harmless pursuits at night. He watched her across the card table, attempting to read her hand by her expression, but she was good at foxing. He enjoyed looking at her. Selina was an exotic flower amongst English daisies. She should wear the jewel colors many women couldn’t carry with any degree of grace. And if he survived this business, he fully intended to see her dressed that way.

As the days passed, Giles found it increasingly difficult to tamp down his frustration. He was still as weak as a kitten. It was something he wasn’t used to, and it infuriated him. He hid the desperate situation he found himself in from Selina, determined to do whatever was necessary to protect her. He didn’t believe in love, felt incapable of that level of emotion. But he’d made a splendid choice of a bride. He lay back and closed his eyes while she read from Shakespeare’s anthology. She gave her voice just the right inflection and brought the beautiful words to life.

“You read that exceedingly well.”

She glanced up at him looking shy and appealing. “Did I?”

He had to admit he enjoyed their evenings spent playing card games and chess. So far, he’d managed to beat her at both, but it was growing more difficult. She was a quick learner. He laughed at her, for it clearly made her annoyed to lose. She vowed that one night she would win. And he knew she would.

“Would you like to lie beside me while you read? You must be tired.”

She gave him a slow smile. Was there a hint of desire in her eyes? There was something else too, blast it. Determination to thwart him. He knew he could persuade her, but his performance would be wanting. That would not do. He was determined to introduce her to the delights of lovemaking when he was fully restored to health.

****

“I am quite comfortable in this chair, but thank you.”

Devereux’s look heated her body right down to her nether regions. She turned the page and continued reading, but her mind dwelt on the day soon coming when they would make love. She wriggled in the chair.

“You don’t look entirely comfortable, Selina,” he said with his direct blue stare. “I suspect you want to consummate this marriage as much as I do.”

“All the better to distract ourselves with other pursuits.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Then you admit it?”

“I refuse to continue this conversation. It gets us nowhere. Shall I leave you to rest or continue reading
Macbeth
?”

He sighed. “Read on. I could do with one of the witches’ potions right now.”

“For what purpose?” she asked with a giggle.

“To heal my body, slay my enemies, and to subdue you,” he quipped.

With a laugh, Selina rose to smooth his pillows. “You are getting better every day. As long as you don’t fret yourself into a relapse.” She settled back into the chair. “I wish we had news of the war,” she said, hoping to change the conversation.

“I daresay we’ll hear before long,” he said noncommittally.

She closed the book. “I think we’ve had enough of Shakespeare.”

“Will you sing to me?”

“What shall I sing?”

“I don’t care. Anything.”

Selina, aware that her voice wasn’t her best asset, launched into one of her favorite songs, “Greensleeves.”

He closed his eyes. “That’s a song about a woman of pleasure, you know,” he murmured, interrupting her.

“What? It isn’t!”

“The green gown is a reference to the grass stains on the woman’s dress from engaging in lovemaking outdoors.”

“That’s outrageous. Why Chaucer believed green to be the color of lightness in love. ‘Greensleeves is my delight.’”

“Yes, there’s that.” A smiled pulled at his lips, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“It makes me wonder why you wish to dress me in green, Devereux.”

“You’re my delight,” he said, drifting off.

He began to snore softly.

“I wish you meant that, my love,” she whispered.

She learned over him and smoothed back a lock of hair from his brow. Thick, dusky lashes brushed his cheeks. He frowned and murmured something indecipherable. Were his dreams still troubled? She resisted kissing him, but the impulse was so strong she took herself off out of the room.

As was now their habit, Selina joined Devereux in his bedchamber for breakfast at the table by the window. He was pleased when he heard his tenants’ roofs had been rethatched and that they now had a good supply of coal for winter. While she refilled his cup, she remembered she hadn’t told the gamekeeper about the stranger in the wood. It had completely left her mind.

She handed him his cup and saucer. “In the fuss of your arrival, I completely forgot! There was someone in the woods the day you arrived. I should have told the gamekeeper, but he hasn’t mentioned any sign of poachers.”

Devereux’s cup clattered into the saucer. His hands clenched the arms of his chair, knuckles white. “Did you see who it was?”

She eyed him carefully. “No, they ran deeper into the woods. I couldn’t follow on horseback.”

He glowered at her. “It was just as well that you couldn’t.”

“Why? And why are you glaring at me? Do you know who it is?”

“I don’t want you taking foolish risks. I forbid it.”

She widened her eyes. “You forbid it?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see the necessity to order me about,” she said stiffly. “I’m not reckless or stupid.”

“No you’re not.” His gaze shifted away from her as if he regretted his tone. “Poachers, more than likely.”

“I’ll send a note to alert the gamekeeper to keep a look out.”

“Do. And keep out of the woods for now. Promise me?”

“If you insist, although I don’t see why—”

“Never mind why.”

She added hot water to the teapot. “A letter arrived from Bath this morning,” she said, feeling it better to change the subject. “Anne has given birth to a boy.”

“That’s good news. Are they both well?”

“Yes, thank God.”

“You must go to Bath for a visit before winter sets in,” he said. “See the babe.”

Did he want her gone? “Now? But you’re not yet well.”

“I am hardly at death’s door, and I’m in good hands here. The doctor will attend me while you’re away.” His eyes clouded. “And I suppose you do want to get away from the sickroom for a while.”

Her throat tightened. “That isn’t true.”

“Nevertheless, you must go. Enjoy yourself.”

He wanted her gone. Did she fuss too much? Her heart throbbed with distress. “Thank you,” she said in a brisk tone. “I shall go at the end of the week. When you’re in better health.”

“Go tomorrow.” He cast her a sly glance. “Or, poor health or not, I shall bed you, madam.” He threaded the sash of his banyan through his fingers.

She tried not to think of those fingers stroking her skin. “I’ll not shirk my duties as a wife, my lord, when the time is right.”

“How much I look forward to introducing you to those duties, wife.”

She longed to tell him how much she desired him, loved him, needed him, but she wouldn’t beg. He wanted her gone. Her pride kept her silent. “Your eyes look feverish. It would be best for you to return to bed and rest.”

“My eyes are filled with unquenched desire.” But his legs shook, and he had to grip her shoulder.

“Why don’t we both return to bed?”

His fingers tightened about her wrist. Devereux pulled her down with him and rolled over, securing her within his arm. His face lowered to hers. Trapped by the possessive expression in his blue gaze, as if he was seeking to learn all her secrets, she closed her eyes. A hand trailed across her jawbone, and she let her lids flutter open. With a smoldering look, he focused on her mouth. Selina swallowed as her stomach clenched on a frisson of desire, his scent rising to torment her. She could feel his heart beating hard. Or was it hers?

“Now, this is cozy, is it not?” He released her hair, tossing hairpins onto the floor.

Released her hair fell to her waist. “It took an age for Sarah to dress it!”

“As lustrous as a crow’s wing. I like the fragrance. What is it? Lilies of the valley?”

“It is. No doubt you’re familiar with a variety of fragrances.”

“Now that isn’t nice. Might you be jealous?” He grinned and stroked his palm across her stomach, causing another strong pull of need low down. “Must you be so acerbic, madam? I paid you a compliment.”

She wriggled uneasily. “I suppose I’m not used to it. Thank you, the compliment is appreciated.” His knowledge of women’s perfume rankled. She
was
jealous. She was resentful of every woman he’d ever known. It was unworthy of her, but he made her helpless.

He wound her hair around his fist, holding her in place. “I doubt I’m infectious now. You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve kissed me.”

The hurt she felt at his careless rejection made her body like a taut wire. His kiss would be her undoing. She pressed her mouth to his in a butterfly kiss.

“That’s not a kiss.”

His hands squeezed her waist and pulled her back against him. He was all sinew and muscle, his hands like iron, despite his illness. But his fingers gentled when he cradled her face, and she stilled as he lowered his mouth to hers. He was experienced, damn him, and knew what he was about, just how to pleasure her as he angled his head to take her top lip. Her head swam as desire surged through her body, and her fingers curled into her palms to prevent her from grasping his hair to pull him down to her.

“I have yet to enjoy my marital rights,” he said in an accusatory tone. As if it was her fault. “Remove your gown, lady wife.”

She couldn’t fight him, but neither did she obey his command. She sensed he was acting more out of frustration than desire. And she’d heard the rattle in his chest. Concerned, she escaped from the bed and clambered to her feet. Hands on her hips, she shook her head.

“Devereux, you are still ill.”

He rolled his eyes and sank back onto the pillows. “If I was myself, you’d be naked, and I’d be between your thighs by now.”

Hot and bothered, she batted away the image filling her mind. “Let’s talk.” She hoped her rapid breathing didn’t give her away.