Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (8 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

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BOOK: Lessons From a Scarlet Lady
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It made sense, she supposed when she thought about it, for all of the
beau monde
considered it fashionable for husbands and wives to have separate bedrooms, and Colton was practical to a fault. If he
had
his own bedroom, then why should he not sleep there?
Maybe it made sense, but it was intensely irritating.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed their sexual congress from the very beginning—even that first nervous night she’d been aroused by her husband—but she had felt as if she was giving him something and he was taking it. The phrase “conjugal rights” seemed to apply to those shrouded, restrained encounters. She would never deny him, but Brianna disliked inherently the idea of applying the concept of duty to something as beautiful as what they had just shared.
Before tonight she would not even have really termed herself his lover. Wife, yes. Lover, no. But now here she was, finally in his bed, nude and deliciously tired, with his discharge sticky on her thighs and his arm curled comfortably around her.
“Brianna.” He touched her cheek, his fingers light. “I have a very early morning and my day is full of appointments.”
A feeling of sharp disappointment replaced her languorous well-being. “It sounds similar to most of your days, Your Grace.”
“I hardly think you need to address me so formally at a time like this.”
She said nothing.
“Rogers will be here at daybreak as per my instructions,” her husband said in the same reasonable tone, as if he hadn’t just made love to her with consummate passion.
“And heaven forbid your valet should find me in your bed.” Brianna sat up, shaking back her long hair, giving her husband a level challenging look. “I take it I am dismissed, now that I’ve served my purpose.”
Relaxed against the crisp white sheets, his skin still holding a sheen of perspiration from their exertions, Colton frowned. “I’d hardly put it that way. I
didn’t
put it that way. I just don’t want to wake you when I arise.”
“How considerate of you.”
“Actually, yes, I was trying to be.” His brows went up. “But from the sarcasm in your tone, apparently you don’t agree.”
“Sometimes I think you must be the most obtuse man in all of London.” Brianna slid from the bed, trying to remind herself that no one could change quickly, and her handsome but infuriating husband was a particular challenge. She was certain the notion he needed to adjust anything in
his
life to fit
her
romantic sensibilities would startle him.
Love
, also, was a word he rarely considered.
“Will you explain to me how allowing my wife an uninterrupted night’s sleep makes me obtuse?” He watched her scoop up her discarded clothing, his eyes heavy lidded. Though he remained reclined on the bed, his mouth was tight.
“No.” Brianna walked away deliberately so he could watch her nude backside as she headed for the door separating their bedchambers. “Good night,
Your Grace
.”
She thought she heard him mutter a low curse before she left the room.
What the hell had just happened?
Colton lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if he should go into his wife’s bedroom and demand an explanation. Well, two explanations.
No, three.
She definitely owed him three.
First there was the dress. He was still befuddled over why she had worn it in the first place, even if Robert had come up with a reasonable way to prevent
that
from happening again. Then she had boldly surprised him by performing an act he would have sworn she could have known nothing about, and now . . . well, he wasn’t sure what the devil had just happened.
He had the unsettling knowledge that after the most satisfying sexual experience of his entire life, he’d just committed some kind of marital faux pas and hurt her. It was confounding because he could have sworn that in the blissful postcoital aftermath they had been more in accord than ever before. Certainly Brianna had felt perfect in his arms, warm and flushed from sexual gratification, her slender body fitted to his, the silk of her glorious pale hair spilled across his chest. From the very first time he’d touched her she had been surprisingly responsive, but tonight had been earth-shattering.
Until he’d blundered, apparently.
His moody stare fastened on her door, now firmly shut.
So ripping her clothes off was fine but being solicitous enough to not want to disturb her in the morning wasn’t?
. . . and heaven forbid your valet should find me in your bed . . .
If she thought he would be happy about any man, servant or not, seeing her in alluring dishabille, all golden hair and ivory skin, naked underneath only a thin coverlet, she was sorely mistaken. Their private life was just that, private, and her delectable beauty was his alone.
He’d talk to her, he decided, when he wasn’t so tired and confused by her erratic behavior.
But despite a full day and lengthy vigorous lovemaking, he found he couldn’t sleep right away.
Something odd was going on, he decided as he lay in the darkness, watching the moon send struggling illumination against the draperies. It was disordering his world, and he’d always had such a tidy, predictable existence.
Chapter Four
Avoid men who pose as something they are not. In a lover, character is still important, even if the transient pleasure of his embrace is all you seek. I have a specific affection for young rakehells, for they are genuine and upfront about the fleeting nature of their interest. They are also inevitably charming. If you should be the woman who finally captures the sincere attachment of one, you are lucky indeed.
From the chapter titled: “Those Darling Wicked Gentlemen”
 
T
heir horses walked side by side, both magnificent animals, but like the men who rode them, very different. Robert, of course, chose a Barbary stallion, his favorite breed; the restive animal could prove hard to control, but well worth the effort if you wanted endurance and speed. His oldest brother—no surprise—rode a thoroughbred, all slender legs and massive haunches, with shoulders built for short distances, a sprinter extraordinaire, the toast of the British bloodstock books. After winning a fortune in prizes, Thebes was now retired and in stud, but Colton rode him because the horse was a favorite pet as well as an investment.
They suited each other, aristocratic duke and sleek champion, Robert thought with inner amusement, though at the moment his brother’s normally serene, good-looking countenance was wreathed in a severe frown. “I am at a loss over my wife.”
“Confounded by a woman?” It was impossible not to laugh. “What a novel concept.”
Colton sent him a quelling look. “Your amusement is not helpful.”
“Is help what you want?”
After a moment, Colton equivocated, “Maybe. She’s behaving erratically.”
The park was fairly full on such a lovely autumn morning and they nodded to several acquaintances, falling quiet until they were once again alone on the path. A pure blue sky stretched above, punctuated by eggshell clouds. Robert said mildly, “Brianna seemed perfectly normal at Grandmama’s birthday luncheon last week. I wouldn’t have used the term ‘erratic,’ but then again, I don’t see her every day.”
It was true. Robert had his own townhouse, declining to live in the grandiose family residence in Mayfair. He wasn’t the Duke, he wasn’t even second in line—his older brother Damien held that distinction for the moment—and Robert liked doing as he pleased without censure.
Again, there was a palpable hesitation. Colton’s hands tightened enough on the reins that Thebes tossed his head. He patted the horse’s neck in apology. “It isn’t something you would notice from the outside, but I sure as the devil am seeing a difference.”
It wasn’t often his older brother was so obviously discomforted. Robert had to admit it made him curious as hell. He glanced over, wrinkling his brow. “You’re going to have to explain, Colt.”
“Yes, deuce take it, I realize that.”
The irritation in Colton’s response was even more curious than his unusual request for a morning ride. Robert waited patiently as their horses walked leisurely along the winding path through the grass and trees, feeling peaceful in the warmth of the unusually fair weather.
“The other night she . . . well, let’s say it was unexpected.”
Now that was hardly enlightening, but Robert at least got a sense of what Colton might be discussing—or
not
discussing as it were—because his normally composed brother had a faint flush on his face. “Do you mean in bed?” Robert asked bluntly.
Colton sent him a quick look and nodded briefly. “Yes.”
“Unexpected in a good way or a bad one?” After all, it was Colton who had sent the missive requesting a morning ride and it was Colton who sought his advice. If Robert was going to forego a morning’s lie-in for this discussion, they needed to actually
discuss
the matter and stop dancing around it.
“Good.” Colton said it shortly. Then he amended. “Very good, if you must know.”
“I don’t
need
to know anything about the intimacies of your marriage, Colt, but you brought the subject up.”
“I realize that.” The Duke of Rolthven definitely sounded out of sorts. “Sorry,” he added in a more conciliatory tone. “It’s one thing to discuss women in a general way, but my wife is something different.”
Robert didn’t have a comment for that one. There was no precedent in his life for talking about a wife, so how could he know?
“It’s private.”
“I would imagine.” Colton was a private person in general, so the conversation was getting more intriguing by the moment.
Colton stared fixedly at a copse of trees as if it was the most fascinating thing on earth. “Oh hell, well, all right. She . . . well, she did something she’s never done before.”
Oh, that helped.
Robert murmured, “Order tea afterwards? Sing a song as she undressed? Dance across the window ledge stark naked? Invite her maid to join you? You are going to have to be blunter. Subtlety is for females as they sit and sip sherry and exchange gossip. I can’t read your mind.”
“Fine, fine,” Colton growled. “Brianna took me in her mouth. What’s more, she did a damn good job of it too.”
Though his first thought was that the incident made his brother a lucky man indeed, Robert refrained from mentioning it. With caution, he asked, “And you object to what happened?”
“Good God, of course not.” But Colton’s laugh was short, and his blue eyes held a troubled look. “I just wonder where she got the idea.”
“Not from you?”
“No, not from me. She’s a lady. I wouldn’t ever ask her to do such a thing.”
The light dawned. Sitting at ease in his saddle, Robert fought back a laugh. “You do realize you are fretting over something most men would be toasting and celebrating. Sex is a normal and instinctive process. Brianna has married friends. Maybe there is a husband among them who isn’t so polite. Women talk amongst themselves. It is one of their favorite pastimes.”
“Not about what happens behind the closed doors of their bedrooms, surely.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not a delicate subject.”
A certain part of Robert wondered in cynical amusement if growing up in the shadow of impending ducal responsibilities sapped so much of a man’s attention that he lost focus on the real world. “Colt, think about it. Women are fascinated by romance. By nature they are much more absorbed in the subject than we are. No, I don’t think they talk constantly about the mechanics of what happens, but why should they? The act itself is pretty universal. One part into another part. It feels damned good for both parties if done right, and though there are some variations, the basic principles are all the same. Men focus on things like the size of a pair of breasts or how willing or skillful the partner, but women like something else entirely. Tender words, the drift of your fingers through their hair, a poetic phrase about a sunrise when entwined in bed at dawn. None of that is indelicate.”

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