Her Scottish Groom (15 page)

His temper flared again but he replied smoothly. “Indeed I do, Sir Harry. In fact, I came over to ask her ladyship if she cared to dance.” He did not exactly lie, for he had expected to dance at least once with her. In the first place it was only proper, and also he had noticed during their engagement that while she was a graceful dancer, men often overlooked her.

This did not appear to be the case this evening. In the friendliest manner possible, she smiled and informed him that while one waltz remained open for him, the rest of her dance card was filled.

“In fact, here comes my partner now.” Handing her champagne glass to Kieran, she held out her fingers to the comtesse’s grandson. “Roch, your timing is perfect. The introduction is just starting.” As the first strains of the next tune played, she strolled onto the floor.

He could not take his gaze off her satin-covered derriere for several seconds. Looking around, his lips pressed together. Several other men in the room eyed her backside just as appreciatively.

While he did not precisely spend the rest of the evening dancing attendance on his wife, he did stay in her vicinity as best he could. By the time he claimed his waltz he had experienced a considerable sense of ill-usage.

“Why didn’t you save me the supper dance?” He frowned down at her as soon as the music started.

“You had apparently already asked the Marquise de Tourelle. Why are you in such a pet?” The diamonds in her aigrette flashed as she tipped her head back to look at him.

Like a burr under his skin, the justice of her reply only served to irritate him further. He had spent the supper interval watching her dining with Sir Harry, who had, in his opinion, hovered unnecessarily close when not waiting on her.

When he taxed her with this, she sighed. “You are exaggerating the case. While he is undeniably charming, and enjoys female company, his heart is unattainable.” Her face saddened. “He buried it when his wife died years ago.”

“You have treated him with particular favor all evening.” Even to his own ears, the accusation sounded petty, for Diantha had not passed the bounds of propriety.

She raised her eyebrows. “Why not? There was a plan afoot to marry me to him at one time. That’s why we came to London in the first place last year.”

The sprightly music of the orchestra filled the silence between them as he grappled with this bombshell. It had never occurred to him that she might have had another suitor.

As they twirled in silence, he noticed the fragrance from the rose in her hair and the fine texture of her skin in the light from the chandeliers.

Remembering the night before their wedding when he had discovered her in her father’s library, he wondered if she had only given him an excuse
for her drunkenness. When the music came to an end, he could only think to bow.

Not until the carriage drove them back to the Avenue Montaigne in the small hours of the morning did he dare to ask her the question that weighed on his heart.

“Do you regret not marrying Sir Harry?” He stared straight ahead.

She paused before replying. “It wasn’t really a matter of regret. It was much the same as our own engagement. Mama and Papa simply informed me I would be married, and to whom.” No trace of self-pity entered her voice. “You came along before anything had been decided for certain between Papa and Sir Harry.”

“That must have been difficult for you, being passed around like a refreshment tray.” He reached over to take her hand.

A breath of laughter sounded beside him. “An apt, if lowering, description.” She rallied a little. “But as I said, his heart would never be mine.”

“Is that important?” He blurted out the question before he realized what he had said. Of course, she would consider it important; all young girls had romantic notions.

“I thought so when I was a girl, but that’s not very practical, is it?” She withdrew her hand. “A woman must make her marriage satisfactory, I suppose.”

Kieran took a deep breath. “Would you have preferred Emerson over me?” He did not understand why he attached so much importance to her answer, but his shoulders tensed as though waiting for a physical blow.

“All things considered, no.” In the wave of inexplicable
relief that washed over him, he did not ask her to elaborate.

   Diantha hurried upstairs as soon as they entered the house. What had possessed her to speak so freely on the drive back? She must have drunk one glass of champagne too many. Living with Papa and her brothers had taught her that gentlemen did not enter into the sentiments of females.

She awoke Florette where she slept on a cot in the dressing room and returned to the bedroom. Sinking onto the slipper chair in front of the vanity, she removed the earrings and necklace herself before the maid came yawning out to take down her hair.

“You can brush it out in a moment. If I’m laced up much longer, I fear I shall burst.” She turned about as Florette unfastened hooks and buttons, and stepped out of the rustling pile of satin with her help. When the corset came unlaced at last, Diantha took in a great breath, relishing the freedom of her chemise and drawers.

She removed her own shoes and stockings as the maid gathered up the discarded gown and petticoats for cleaning and pressing. The soft creak of an opening door barely registered with either woman.

“You’re dismissed, Florette.”

Diantha sat up with a jerk, dropping a stocking. Kieran leaned against the frame of the doorway. Her body tightened under his heavy-lidded stare. “She hasn’t brushed my hair yet.” Her voice came out in a breathy squeak.

“I can do that.” He advanced into the room. “Good night, Florette.”

“Good night, milord.” The maid placidly curtsied and disappeared, leaving Diantha to face her husband with a pounding heart. The confidence that had buoyed her all evening dissipated. She clasped her hands together on the surface of the vanity, much like a schoolgirl sitting at a desk.

Kieran picked up the brush and slowly ran the bristles through her hair. “Are you afraid I’ll hurt you again?”

“No.” Some of her tension fell away at each stroke. “I don’t think you wanted to last time.”

The brush whispered down each strand in a gentle rhythm, followed by his hand. “What then?”

She shook her head. The turmoil in her heart did not rise from physical fear, but from something deep in her own soul. “I feared you might think my conversation earlier was foolish.”

“I won’t deny it took me by surprise.” He pulled Diantha to her feet, settling his hands on the curve of her hips. Heat grew low in her midriff as his thumbs made small circles at her waist. “You seemed very happy to see your former suitor this evening.”

“I have always been very fond of him.” Her eyes widened as a suspicion struck her. “Surely you aren’t jealous of him! I told you I prefer you to him.”

Kieran stiffened. “When I see my wife holding hands with a man I’ve never set eyes on before in my life, I am not jealous. I am concerned that she is not behaving in a manner befitting her position.”

“It was only a harmless flirtation.” She enjoyed the look on his face when she threw his words
regarding the
senhora
back at him. “After all, I only talked with him.”

“You danced with him twice, and went down to supper with him.” He growled the words as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “You are my wife, if you’ll recall.”

She glared up at him from atop the neatly turned down coverlet and sheet. “Perhaps you should have remembered that fact before you started gallivanting all over Paris with the Marquise de Tourelle. You don’t even want me!”

“On the contrary, I want you very much.” He untied his sash and slipped off his robe.

She sucked in her breath at the sight of his bare chest and the burgeoning arousal pushing against the silk pyjamas.

In the candlelit room Diantha could see him far better than in the shadows of the ship’s cabin. His chiseled features, the muscular shoulders and chest tapering to a slim waist and long legs, all combined to weaken her. He was so very beautiful, and he stood looking down at her as his own eyes darkened with desire. She could not resist the potent combination.

As if he read her mind, he seated himself on the edge of the bed. Balancing with a hand on either side of her head, he bent forward to place a gentle kiss on her lips. She opened to him and within seconds, he wrapped her in his embrace as their tongues mated over and over. The jut of flesh between his thighs hardened rapidly, but when he drew back, it was only to stroke his fingertips down her throat.

Catching sight of the ostrich feather fan on the
table beside her bed, he picked it up and lazily stroked the inside of her bare arm with it.

She inhaled in surprise when goose bumps rose over her entire body from the gossamer touch. Watching her intently, he trailed the plumes across her exposed breastbone and down the other arm. Her nipples peaked against the thin linen chemise and a tingle came to life in the flesh between her legs.

He teased her neck with the end of the feathers, playing the cloud softness over her sensitive skin till she squirmed and giggled. “Stop, you’re tickling me!”

He desisted at once, setting the fan aside before returning to unbutton the chemise. She closed her eyes as he settled over her, his weight unfamiliar and yet welcome. Air cooled her breasts as the cloth fell away, followed by Kieran’s warm hands caressing them. She hoped he would suckle, but instead he slid a palm under her back to lift her slightly.

Opening her eyes, she saw that he wanted to remove the chemise completely. Sitting up a little she assisted him in freeing her. Then he eased her back down to the bed, running his fingertips over the soft globes with their puckered tips. She arched against his touch, silently begging for more.

“Not yet.” He murmured the words as he sat back on his heels. The sight of the hardened erection between his silk-covered thighs made her breath come faster. The idea of being impaled on his member without pain excited her. Following the direction of her gaze, his lips curved in a sensual smile. “Soon, my bonny wife.”

His hands dropped to her waist and he pulled at the silk tie holding her drawers up. Sliding the loosened garment over her hips and down her legs,
he discarded it and impulsively dropped a kiss onto her navel. As his tongue swirled around the tiny indentation, she shivered in anticipation.

He lifted his head, his own breath coming in quick puffs. As if reading her mind, he touched himself through the straining silk. “You want this, don’t you?”

Heat rose in her face. She would rather die than admit something so wanton out loud. “No!”

“Oh?” One thick eyebrow arched. “We’ll have to do something about that then.” Standing up, he made short work of freeing himself from the pyjama trousers, letting the silk pool around his feet before crawling back onto the bed.

His eyes lit with a wicked twinkle, he stretched out over her and kissed her deeply.

She responded fully. Her hand buried itself in the curls at the back of his neck. Sighing happily into his mouth, she twined her tongue around his.

“You taste like brandy.” She whispered the words against his lips.

He lifted his head, eyes gleaming. “I had some while I waited to come in.” Their light softened as his knuckles grazed the side of her face.

She snorted. “That was waiting? I didn’t even have my nightgown on!”

Rolling onto his side, he laughed down at her. “I saved myself the trouble of removing it.” Before she could reply, he pulled her to him and nuzzled the soft curve under her jaw.

Diantha moaned softly as his mouth drove coherent thought from her mind. Vaguely aware that he reached past her for something, she could only
cling to his shoulders under the onslaught from his lips and tongue.

She jumped as something soft stroked up the back of her leg and lingered on a bare buttock. She broke the kiss to discover he had reclaimed the fan.

“Kieran!” The word tore out of her with a gasp as he traced the contours of her behind with the cloud-soft feathers. “That’s disgraceful!”

“I suppose I’ll just have to stop then.” As soon as the ticklish fronds left her skin, she scooted onto her back. Undeterred, he merely switched his attention to her front, running the fan along the side of her face onto her neck. She twitched and instinctively raised her hands to push it away.

He easily trapped them and held her hands above her head under his forearm. “Leave them there, darling. Just lay back and feel.” He whispered the words against her ear as he slid one leg over both of hers, effectively holding Diantha in place.

After a moment of panic, she realized she could easily slide her hands out from under his arm. He slowly drew the fan down the center of her body to the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. She could only clutch at him, panting, as jolts of pleasure snaked over her skin.

“No more.” He growled the words and tossed the fan aside. His mouth fastened over one aching peak, greedily suckling and nibbling. His free hand wandered to the damp cleft between her thighs. Mindless with desire, she opened to admit him.

“Let me go, Kieran, I want to touch you.” The ragged whisper tore from her throat as his circling fingers found slick flesh and teased her most sensitive spot.

“Yes.” He took her hand and placed it on his engorged manhood. “Here.” She tried to draw back, but he held her firmly. As she cautiously stroked him, his eyes fluttered shut and he groaned.

Amazed, she realized she had the power to affect him the same way he did her. A sense of power unlike anything she had ever known overcame her as she watched his response to her touch.

When he opened his eyes and pushed her onto her back, she accepted him without hesitation, spreading her legs to accommodate his body. She did tense when he carefully pushed into her, but he had not lied. Instead of pain, she felt only an exquisite sensation of being filled that increased with each thrust.

Her heart pounded as she felt her entire body tightening as it had before. At last Kieran ground into her with a guttural cry. His explosion set off her own, waves of pleasure washing over her until she could only lie, spent and sweating, beneath him while he rained kisses on her face.