How to Handle a Scandal (22 page)

“I agree,” Anna said. “I don’t think you two have considered this from all sides.”

“What sides do you mean, Anna?” Tommy demanded.

“Well, clearly you enjoy each other’s company—anyone can see that. But loneliness can cause people to make desperate choices.”

She meant the temptation to seek other partners once they were separated, which Eliza and Tommy had as good as agreed to do. But Eliza knew, deep in her heart, that no other man would ever tempt her, however lonely she would be without Tommy.

“I’m sure Eliza and I will find a way to manage everything ourselves,” Tommy said firmly.

* * *

Later that night after all the guests had retired, Eliza was tidying up the library in between yawns and gathering up some books the children had left lying around, while Tommy sat at the desk and dashed off a quick note to his man of affairs.

She had just picked up a book called
A Lady Gets What She Desires
, which had been suspiciously tucked under a volume on architecture, when Tommy’s arm slid around her waist. She jumped.

“I didn’t hear you,” she said.

He leaned over her shoulder and peered at what she was holding. “Doubtless because you’re over here reading wicked books.” He plucked it out of her hand and read the subtitle. “
In Which a Lady and Her Lovers Make Discoveries
.” He snorted. “I’ll bet. And did you find this instructive?”

She blushed. So far, she’d made quite a few new discoveries with Tommy. “It must have come with that shipment I ordered from the bookseller. Anna said she happened upon Marcus and Rex looking at something they seemed keen to hide from her, and I’m guessing this was it.”

He winced. “Embarrassing, though I can’t manage to feel sorry for them.”

“I hope we’re not going to be responsible for corrupting them.”

“I’d be surprised if they haven’t both stolen glimpses of such things before. Rex certainly seems as though he’d love to get his hands on anything forbidden.”

She sighed. “I’m afraid you’re right. Has there been any sign of his aunt yet?”

“No, unfortunately.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “But my man is persistent and resourceful.”

“Poor Rex—I wonder if he’s terribly worried about his future. Being worried never makes anybody behave well.”

“No,” Tommy agreed, sounding distracted.

“Maybe…” she began, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes?” he said suspiciously.

“It’s just that Rex has had a hard time of it—”

“What with being spoiled most of his life.”

“Being spoiled is no advantage if it makes a person disagreeable. It’s not Rex’s fault his father ignored him and his nurse was too indulgent. He was a child. He could hardly have arranged sensible care for himself.”

Tommy just grunted. “Never mind about Rex—the boy will be fine. Now, what say you abandon these dusty volumes, Lady Halifax, and come upstairs and let me see to
your
desires? I promise you I can do a lot better than whatever’s in that book.”

He didn’t want to think about Rex or make plans for the boy that would involve himself, and why should she be surprised? Tommy wanted to sail through life unencumbered. She repressed a sigh of disappointment.

He tugged her toward the door. “We have work to do.”

“Work?”

“Making-a-baby work. Though I’d prefer to think of it as giving a lady what she wants.”

* * *

Tommy nudged Eliza inside his bedchamber and closed the door behind them.

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he guided her backwards toward the bed. He captured her mouth in a kiss that immediately sent his body temperature up several degrees, then broke it to kiss along her soft cheek as she slid her hands over his ribs.

The curtains on the window by the side of her bed were open, and as he bent his head to her neck, something caught his eye, and he leaned closer to the window.

Fire. There was a small fire in the wilds.

He cursed. “Looks like Rex is up to no good.”

Eliza turned to look out the window. “Oh no,” she said softly.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing the pitcher of water that stood by his pillow, he quickly made his way outside, trying to keep a damper on his temper. He reminded himself that this was Oliver’s son. But damn it all, did he have to be such a trial?

Tommy passed into the wilds, and there the little rotter was, facing away from him and warming his hands by the light of the fire, which looked to be confined to a shrub.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Tommy demanded as he strode over. The boy had to have heard him, but he didn’t turn around.

“Just warming my hands, Sir Tommy. These bushes are nothing but trash. Eliza said so.”

“
Lady Halifax
said they were weeds,” Tommy said through his teeth. My God, but the boy could test the patience of a saint, and Tommy was no saint. “No one gave you permission to come out here and burn them.”

The boy shrugged, though Tommy detected a quiver in the purposefully casual movement. “The earl said the place ought to be torched. What difference does it make if I burn a few shrubs?”

“The difference,” Tommy said, stepping forward and stomping out the fire, “is that they’re not your shrubs, and it’s bloody dangerous to set a fire back here. The whole area might catch.” Having put out the flames, Tommy dumped the pitcher of water over the smoldering remains.

“I had it under control,” Rex grumbled.

“You are a guest in this house, Rex Thorpe, and you’d do better to say not one more word unless it’s an apology.”

Silence. Tommy waited.

“I’m sorry I burned your shrub,” Rex said in the least contrite voice Tommy had ever heard. If he’d been able to see the boy’s expression, he felt certain it would have been disrespectful. However, he also felt he could only push Rex so far toward civility just then.

“Apology accepted. And I don’t want to see or hear of any more fires. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

They returned to the manor in the silent darkness. Tommy accompanied the boy to his chamber and made sure he entered before heading for his own room.

When he opened the door to his bedchamber, Eliza was sitting on the bed reading. She’d changed into a white nightgown tied primly at the neck. Apparently she was very engrossed in her book, because she didn’t look up when he came in, and he remembered what a great reader she’d been when they were younger. He used to watch her secretly.

He closed the door. “You moved.”

She looked up from her book and came over to him. “What happened? I watched from the window, but all I could see was that the fire went out abruptly.”

“I put it out. Rex was there, enjoying himself. It seems he felt your dislike of the weeds gave him permission to burn them.”

“Oh dear.”

“I think I’ve made him understand that there will be no more fires.”

“I hope you weren’t too hard on him.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

She bit her lip thoughtfully. “He does seem as though he needs a firm guiding hand.”

Tommy thought so, too. He’d once or twice wanted to say something to Oliver about Rex’s behavior, but he knew he would have been completely in the wrong. Parents didn’t welcome such suggestions from other people, and what did Tommy know about being a father? Nothing.

She looked like she wanted to say more, so he took her hand and tugged her closer. “Now, where were we?”

“But—”

“No buts, please. We have work to do.”

He led her to the bed and tugged her down next to him, then started pulling the pins out of her hair. She sighed, closing her eyes and abandoning herself to his attentions. With a final tug, he released her red-gold hair so it fell loose down her back.

“Good lord, but you’re beautiful, Eliza.”

* * *

Eliza snuck a glance at the side of Tommy’s face. He looked so handsome that it made her heart ache. His dark lashes and the strong lines of his jaw and the masculine beauty of his lips all seemed like little arrows going straight to her chest. Would their baby, if they had one, have a mouth like his? A laugh like his?

“Now, why are you wearing this gown”—he tugged the string that tied her gown at the neck—“when I need you naked?”

She chuckled softly. Until Tommy, she’d never known how much fun sensual play could be.

She slid off the bed, clutching the gown to her chest. “If you want to see what’s under this, you’ll have to surrender something first.”

A hot light flickered in his eyes, and the corner of his mouth inched back.

She jerked her chin at him, feeling deliciously rude. “The shirt. Take it off.”

He complied with satisfying haste, and she looked her fill as his movements made his muscles bunch. His ribs were broad, his abdomen flat and dusted with black hairs.

“Well?” he prompted. “It’s your turn.”

She let her gown slip a few inches so it just covered her nipples.

“That’s no better than some of the gowns you’ve been wearing,” he pointed out.

“Of course it is, because there’s nothing under this flimsy thing. Now, unfasten your trousers.”

His mouth quirked. “You’re full of demands tonight.”

“I am, aren’t I?” She was enjoying this. Maybe it was the chance to take a little power back from him. She was more at his mercy than she would ever have wanted to be, but he didn’t need to know that. “And yet, if you want to see more, you’ll have to come up with something.”

He held her gaze with a seductively insolent look as he unbuttoned the fastenings of his trousers. The front flap fell open. It was too dark to see anything distinct, but the candlelight hinted at what the shadows held, and the thought was hotly erotic. She let her gown slip a few inches farther, so that it stopped in the middle of her nipples.

He groaned and started to move toward her.

“No,” she said. “Stay there, or I’ll pull my gown up.” The effort to keep her gown where it was made her press her breasts up, plumping them and pushing them together, and she could see from the anguish on his face that he’d noticed. He pulled off a stocking.

She let the gown slip below her breasts, and he sucked in a breath. His gaze unwavering, he pulled off the other stocking and she dropped the gown to her hips.

“Your shape is so lovely,” he said hoarsely. “Come here and let me touch you.”

“Not yet,” she said lightly, though she desperately wanted his hands on her. She was enjoying having him at her mercy too much to give in yet. “You’re still wearing your trousers.”

Hardly had she said the words when he’d whipped them off. And there he was, naked, masculine, and beautiful. He stretched out on his side on the bed, propping his head up on his bent arm, and gave her a roguish, eager grin. Dark hair swirled on his chest and pointed lower in a vee to the promise of secret pleasures.

“Golly,” she whispered. He laughed softly, a thrilling hint of menace coloring the sound.

“I’m giving you to the count of three to drop that gown and get over here, or I’m coming after you.”

She let him get to “thr—” before she surrendered and let the gown fall. He whistled softly in admiration.

“Come here, Wife,” he said, still propped on his elbow like an arrogant Roman emperor. She moved slowly toward the bed, conscious that she had all his attention.

She sat down, and he skimmed a hand down her back all the way to her bottom, his touch making heat break out all over her in a trail of desire.

“You have a lovely arse,” he said, and pinched a plump part. His hand moved higher, over her waist. “And curves that nearly kill me.” The wicked hand roved higher still to cup her breast. “And breasts that I rejoice in knowing are mine.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers, drawing a moan from her.

Mine
… She was his in more ways than he knew. She gave him a seductress’s dark gaze and touched her fill of the armor of taut muscle on his back and ribs, then reached lower to settle on his erection. He jerked and started to sit up, but she was bold now, a woman who knew quite a bit about men and the world, and she pushed him back against the bed and lowered her head.

“Eliza?” he croaked.

The night before, she’d finally learned what the women at the brothel had meant by “the other kind of kisses,” and Tommy had left her nearly delirious. Now, she wanted to do the same thing to him. Tentatively, she brushed him with her lips. His skin there was hot and smooth, and she lingered in several interesting places along his hard length. He groaned, sounding almost as though he was in pain, and she smiled and opened her mouth and took him in.

His breathing grew ragged, and when his hand moved to rest lightly on her head, she sensed that he was restraining himself from pressing her down. He muttered her name, ground his teeth, and made incoherent sounds.

She tortured him for as long as they both could take it, then climbed astride him, deeply pleased at the thought that
she
was taking
him
.

But not for long, because he began to set the rhythm, driving up into her, working her inside. His mouth took her moans as they rode together over the crest of magnificent, timeless waves.
He
was magnificent, the one man who’d ever claimed her so deeply, and she surrendered to the moment and, secretly, to him as she collapsed against his chest. She absorbed his final thrust, and he groaned and pulled her snugly against him.

Some minutes later, he sat up and arranged the pillows comfortably behind his back. “Do you think all our hard work in bed is having any effect?” He patted her stomach.

“As you’ve perhaps observed, it’s not as though one must accrue points through effort before achieving the goal,” she said dryly.

He laughed.

She fluffed up her own pillows and flopped back against them. The arrangement struck her as quintessentially domestic, and she imagined that all over England and other parts of the world, couples in beds were sitting up next to each other in darkened rooms, talking about the day’s events or plans for the future, sorting out the ways they would meet life’s demands together.