Her Husband’s Lover (7 page)

Lyle ought to have brought him here last night, where they’d truly have been shielded from the house and the chance of discovery, although it would have been a good deal colder than the Orangery. Still, personally he preferred the natural shield formed by the high banks, undergrowth and woodland to walls of transparent glass.

Emma followed him down into the basin. They stood awhile in companionable silence. He liked that quality in a woman. So many of the silly chits in town saw silence as their downfall and chattered on inanely without pause. Of course, she was older than most of the maids out seeking a husband. He guessed her to be a good ten years older than her sister.

‘What are your passions?’ he asked. When she turned and looked at him he qualified the statement: ‘As you’re not one for boxing.’ He imagined she’d list the normal rote of womanly accomplishments, but instead she simply shrugged. Only after a significant pause did she answer.

‘I pickle things.’

‘Cabbages, beetroot, that sort of thing?’

She laughed at his seriousness. ‘What else? You didn’t think me an amateur naturalist, did you?’

‘Well, I confess the thought of pickled mice did cross my mind. You’re clearly not a great lover of crowds, so something else must entertain you, and I’ve come across a few rather eccentric recluses.’

Outrage briefly flared in her eyes. ‘I’m hardly that.’

‘No. No, of course not. You’re far too pretty to be a hermit.’

Emma blushed a little, his ill-chosen words forgotten in the wake of the compliment. She turned away from him still smiling and found herself a perch upon the fallen log. ‘Do you have one on your estate?’ she asked a moment later. Her fingers worked over whatever names were carved into the tree bark.

‘Me? I have neither a hermitage nor an estate. I own very little save a vast array of coats and a plethora of dubious appellations. Everything belongs to my father, including a few of the labels with which I’m blessed.’ He was rather glad she didn’t enquire into what those labels were as most of them were unrepeatable. ‘You don’t paint?’

‘No. Do you?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Any other hobbies?’

He couldn’t help it. A wicked grin slid across his lips. ‘One or two.’ He raised his brow.

‘Oh!’ Emma gulped, and then retreated into the shadows of her bonnet. She left her perch and went to look at some of the wild flowers nestled amongst the ferns. Still, it wasn’t long before he felt her gaze upon his back. He’d been facing away from her, eyeing the tunnel entrance, itching to explore, but wondering if it was too much to ask her if the passage were truly as riddled with dirt as she seemed to suggest. Darleston turned a little so that he could spy her from the corner of his eye. She was looking – no, staring – at him intently, her expression a curious mix of desire and revolt; hot eyes, sullen lips.

The expression alone raised a purr of interest in his chest. Coupled with his need for affection – well, the possibility of her wanting him set his pulse racing.

Maybe he was mistaking anger for desire. If she knew or suspected what had happened between him and Lyle then it made sense that she’d be riled. Not that their encounters so far suggested that. Additionally, there was something in her gaze that was too curious, too warm to be anger. Plus the stare wasn’t focused upon the back of his head as though she intended to deliver a blow, rather it travelled up and down his form, taking in the contours, lingering over his profile and the curve of his arse.

The merry devil was staring at his arse.

Well, that ruled out the possibility of her being Sapphic. It wasn’t repulsion over being with a man that was keeping her from Lyle’s bed. The notion had briefly entertained him, or at least the possibility of watching her with another maid had done so.

Darleston turned to fully face her. He raised a brow. Emma’s chin immediately drooped towards her chest. Four strides brought him to her. He took the obvious course. The same one he’d trodden with many a drooping wallflower. He stretched out a hand and with two fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Shock so deep it bleached every hint of colour from her face transformed her expression. Her eyes opened so wide her blue irises shone like halos. Emma’s mouth fell open, and not in a good way. Not in a ‘kiss me, I’m yours’ way. Instead, he winced, expecting a scream. However, she remained silent. Then, rather than knocking his arm away, she scrambled backwards away from him as though he was Satan and his hellish touch burned.

‘Why?’ she might have asked. ‘Why did you touch me?’

Instead – nothing. Arms wrapped tight about her body, she continued to shiver.

‘I didn’t mean to startle –’

‘Forgive me.’ She cut him off. ‘I no longer feel so well.’

In truth she didn’t look it either.

Darleston watched her flee back up the steps and into the thicket of grass and briars. Considering the shock he’d seen on her face, he didn’t envisage her halting before reaching the edge of the copse, perhaps not until she’d locked herself behind her stout bedchamber door.

Naturally any decent man would have followed and seen her home safely, or at least attempted to intercept her flight, but pursuing her would likely cause more harm than good. He’d seen the sheen of tears in her eyes; heard the thickness in her throat. And he and tears never mixed to anyone’s satisfaction but his own. His brother Neddy had once observed that what he really needed in his life was a doxy who wept whenever he spoke.

‘Satisfied that I’m no liar now?’ Lyle emerged from the gloom in the tunnel’s entrance and sauntered towards the fallen tree.

Darleston strode upwards to meet him, admiring the buff and cream ensemble in which Lyle had dressed. Pale colours suited him. His breeches had been handsomely cut so they rode over his upper thighs like a second skin, giving rise to all manner of tempting thoughts – and wasn’t that likely the intent?

‘Followed us out, did you?’ he asked.

Lyle offered him a simple shrug. ‘It seemed prudent, given your reputation as a licentious rakehell, and, considering what I’ve just witnessed, it seems I was right to keep watch.’

‘And what did you see exactly?’

Lyle cast an awkward glance in the direction of Emma’s flight. ‘Robert, it seems very much to me that you were attempting to kiss my wife, which is rather unsporting of you, given all the pleasure I advanced you last night.’

‘I was merely trying to affirm what you’d told me.’

‘Then a handshake would have done.’

Darleston rested against the fallen log in a spot where the bark had completely worn away. This close to the tunnel entrance, he could see that it was indeed damp and riddled with murky puddles.

‘I can count on one hand the number of ladies with whom I’ve shaken hands. A kiss is a far more customary greeting.’ Admittedly, he didn’t generally aim for the lips, but usually the knuckles. ‘And she was looking at me with such obvious desire it seemed rude not to oblige.’

‘You’ve a vivid imagination if you think Emma was assessing anything other than your intellect –’

‘She was staring at my arse.’

‘– but it’s useful to know what it takes to grab your attention.’ Lyle counted the pointers on his fingertips. ‘A salacious expression, a pout and a prominent “don’t touch” label.’

‘It was more pleading than salacious.’ Salacious rarely stirred his blood any more. In fact, he liked things difficult. In a fit of playfulness, he leaned closer to Lyle. ‘I’d like to see you donning a “don’t touch” label. I think I know the perfect place to hang it.’

‘Would that be where you wish to touch the most?’

‘Perhaps,’ Darleston remarked cryptically.

‘Damn it, Robert! What game are you playing with me?’ Lyle brought his palm down hard upon Darleston’s knee. The resulting slap echoed around the arena. Birds scattered from the interlacing branches overhead.

Darleston stared at his stinging leg, which he was unable to rub without knocking Lyle’s hand away.

‘I thought we reached an understanding last night.’ Lyle’s hand slid upwards a fraction, slipping into the channel between Darleston’s thighs. ‘So, if you’re not set upon becoming a monk, and clearly you’re not, given that you were about to kiss my wife –’ Lyle turned his head expectantly ‘– would it kill you to show me a little mercy? You’ve seen what she’s like now. It’s never going to be physical between us.’

‘Ah, but I do relish a challenge.’

The fingers caressing his thigh turned into claws.

‘Ow!’

‘Robert!’

A wicked smirk climbed across Darleston’s lips. He couldn’t help it. A no was always more appealing to him than an easy yes. ‘Oh, don’t fret. I just have an idea about your little dilemma, that’s all. Naturally I’ll only pursue it with your permission.’

‘Unless it’s a plan that involves her becoming jealous because I’m repeatedly swiving your arse, then permission isn’t granted.’

‘A little jealousy could be part of it.’

With a jerk, Lyle sat up straight. His eyes narrowed, then he leaned forward, lips gently parted, his gaze locked upon Darleston’s mouth. His large hand burrowed into the warm space between Darleston’s thighs again. The tip of his thumb scored a line over the crotch seam, slid upwards and buffeted the wakeful ridge of Darleston’s cock. ‘Right here, right now. No running away. Dare you?’

‘Permission first.’

Lyle drew in a long breath through his nose. His tongue briefly wetted his lower lip. ‘What do you need?’

‘Everything.’

‘You’ll never get close.’

‘Then there’s no problem.’

Several bated breaths passed between them. Heat flooded Lyle’s hazel eyes. He nuzzled Darleston’s shoulder, ran a finger around the collar of his shirt, and then quick fingers made light work of loosening the knot of his necktie. ‘As you will, Robert. And as I will.’ He struck, targeting the soft, exposed skin of Darleston’s neck right over the pulse point. ‘You know you marked me last night. It seems only right I return the favour.’

‘You were begging to be claimed. I on the other hand am hedging my bets.’

‘Darleston, if you mention my wife again, I may actually throttle you.’ Lyle’s fingers stroked the skin his lips had just met. Hot tremors rippled through Darleston’s body. Necks were sensitive. He knew that, he’d seduced several past lovers in that way, but he’d never counted on his own neck being quite so riddled with nerve-endings. He barely moved, unable to focus until Lyle’s kiss reached his lips and then they sank into one another’s arms, sprawled along the length of the fallen elm.

When Emma had first drawn his attention to the inscriptions carved into the bark of the fallen tree, a crude and impossibly tempting vision of Lyle lying bound and prone with a gag in his mouth and his bottom bared had swamped Darleston’s thoughts. Now he saw their positions reversed, Lyle above him, taking charge of things.

Could they do this here? They’d be taking a huge risk. But who else would come out here? All the other guests had gone with Hill to meet Jack Johnstone at one of the outlying cottages. Only Emma remained, and she’d already flown. Having observed the bone-deep fear in her face, he couldn’t envisage her returning.

He worked his hands inside Lyle’s clothing, and then sucked in a breath when Lyle did the same and found the swell of his cock. ‘Fellatio is fun,’ Lyle muttered, while working his way down Darleston’s body, kissing his chest and the pale skin of his stomach that he exposed en route, ‘but what I really need is a nice long fuck. I need to feel you around me, accepting me. I need to make this real between us, not just play acting. I want to know you’re committed to this. I can’t deal with you blowing hot and cold, whether it’s a tease or not.’

Darleston steadied himself a moment. What Lyle was proposing was different to how it had been between them in the past. He’d always been the
indorser
, Lyle the nancy. And yet … ‘Is that what you really want?’

‘Robert, you don’t need me to answer that. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve got hard just thinking about it.’ Desire made Lyle’s voice husky.

‘Then do it.’ Butterflies filled his stomach at the instruction. Lyle remained tensely poised, as if he couldn’t quite credit the reality of the invitation. Darleston gave him a wicked grin. Wits and senses be damned. He hadn’t earned a reputation as libertine by acting in a respectable manner, or by waiting around for somebody else to make the definitive move. He curled his fingers into the hair at the back of Lyle’s neck and pulled him hard against him.

They fitted together like the two parts of a puzzle, as if they were meant to be together. It made sense. He’d once loved this man. Nay – that love had never died, circumstances had simply torn them apart and then it had been easier to deny his feelings than to live with them. He’d acted in exactly the same way over Giles.

Darleston nipped lightly at Lyle’s bottom lip, teased him with the promise of a deep kiss but stayed just out of reach until Lyle’s breath became fast and flighty. Only then did he deliver on the promise. As it had been the night before, the kiss left him feverish and uncomfortably hard. Unlike last night, he didn’t allow Lyle to take charge. Having tossed aside his hat and stripped the coat from Lyle’s back, Darleston jammed their hips together while simultaneously enjoying a good feel of Lyle’s bottom. Firm muscle filled his palm. The robust swell of Lyle’s cock branded his abdomen, promising … well, promising exactly what he damn well needed.

It didn’t matter if this lasted a week, for the summer or the rest of his life. He no longer wanted to deny the pull he felt. Instead, he committed to it. No turning back.

‘Swive me,’ he purred.

‘With pleasure.’ Lyle’s breath warmed his ear. His lips traced the lobe and descended again to his jawline.

Darleston pushed his hand inside Lyle’s breeches and took pleasure in the feel of Lyle’s erection filling his hand. This was what they both needed. It was a beginning and an end. They’d never properly said goodbye. This was a welcoming hello.

‘Trust me.’ Lyle winked as his fingers began to explore beyond the swell of Darleston’s shaft. ‘I learned a trick or two from that vadelect. All you need do a while is relax and enjoy.’ He made swift work of the remaining fastenings and dragged Darleston’s breeches down to where his boots prevented any further descent. Then, having first pressed a kiss to each inner thigh, he bestowed a series of ecstasy-inducing licks to the very eye of Darleston’s cock.