The Husband Trap (14 page)

“He’s no such thing. Don’t be so severe on him. He just needs attention and loving care. Robert, I will take that leash, please.” She held out an expectant hand.

The footman stepped forward, laid the leather strip over her palm. Without a smidgen of difficulty, Violet reattached the leash to Horatio’s collar. The dog sat, utterly docile, apparent putty in her hands.

“Shall we go for a walk?” she cooed to the animal.

He stood, tail waving faster, back end wiggling in happy anticipation.

Violet turned to Adrian. “Your Grace, would you care to accompany us?”

“Yes, of course,” he agreed, reaching out to take her elbow.

Horatio surprised them both by behaving like a perfect gentleman as the three of them set out at a leisurely pace. They strolled toward the ocean, its surface glistening in the distance like a flawless sapphire.

“I thought tomorrow you might enjoy taking an excursion.” Adrian slipped an arm around her waist.

“What sort of excursion?”

“A day trip to an old ruin that is considered something of a tourist attraction around these parts. I thought we might pack a picnic luncheon, assuming the weather holds clear. Some of the views from Corfe Castle are quite splendid this time of year.”

“Corfe Castle?” she blurted without thinking. “You mean the one King John once deemed his favorite residence, but which was razed centuries later by Parliamentarian forces during the Civil War? That Corfe Castle?”

Adrian stopped, eyebrows arched in high surprise. “Yes, the very same. How on earth do you come to know so much about the place?”

Yes, Violet thought, how did she come to know so much? Mentally she gave herself a good hard kick. Dumb, dumb. It was certain Jeannette took no particular interest in history, and she wouldn’t have cared a jot about some old castle that had been destroyed nearly two hundred years ago. She doubted her twin even knew England had fought a civil war, let alone any of the sieges or battles involved. Unlike her, Jeannette had never been a good student. To Violet’s knowledge, her sister hadn’t cracked open a book in the three years since their lessons ended with their former governess, Miss Haverhaven.

So, how did she, posing as her sister, know about the castle?
Blast her imprudent tongue.

“Well,” she began, waving her hand in a gesture of casual dismissal, “it is not from any wish to know about it, I will tell you that. Mortimer Landsdowne, you know what a dreadful bore he can be, he fairly drummed the information into my brain during the reception. Cornered me to offer best wishes, and once he found out we were coming to Dorset for our honeymoon, I simply could not stop him from going on and on about the place. Said how affecting the castle ruins were, and that we must be sure to visit them while we were here. I was ready to raze
him
by the end of our conversation, I must say. Heavens.”

Heavens indeed. She willed herself not to panic, praying Adrian had bought her Banbury tale. She peeked up at him from underneath her lashes. A full half minute of silence ticked past. A long, slow, agonizing half minute that seemed to last forever.

Finally, he drew a breath. “I am most sorry for your suffering, my dear.” He turned her to resume their walk. “I hope he did not put you off the place entirely. We can always go elsewhere if you would like.”

“Oh, no. I am certain if you think it worth the trip then it must be. Particularly if the vistas are pleasant. A picnic sounds an especially delightful idea. Perhaps Mrs. Grimm can be persuaded to include a few of those delicious biscuits she sent up with tea yesterday, after we first arrived.”

“I am certain she can be convinced to include a batch, since they are already an especial favorite of yours. How does roast chicken sound as an accompaniment?”

“Delectable.”

He stopped again, pulled her close. “What about a kiss? Would you enjoy that as well, here with the wind whipping at our backs?”

Violet looped an arm around his waist, hugged him closer. “That sounds delectable too.”

His mouth was on hers, taking her lips in a slow simmering kiss that quickly heated their passions. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the crushing pleasure, letting the world around her melt away.

Their honeymoon week flashed by on hummingbirds’ wings, a brief span of time both magical and intense. Each day an adventure. Each night a magnificent delight.

The outing to Corfe Castle proved a great success. Violet roamed the grounds with Adrian at her side, soaking up the history and the atmosphere without being compelled to reveal the true depths of her enjoyment. They lunched on a grassy knoll beneath the shade of a small oak tree. A gentle, luffing breeze cooled the air to a pleasant degree while they dined on tender roast chicken, succulent morsels of fruit, sweetmeats and Mrs. Grimm’s delicious biscuits.

Afterward, Adrian stretched his long frame across the picnic blanket, nestled his head onto Violet’s lap and fell asleep. She sat utterly content, watching him while dreams filled his mind. Occasionally, she would stroke a few locks of his thick, black hair. Fingering the ends that curled ever so slightly in the warm, humid coastal air. Slowly, he awakened, a look of slumberous desire glinting in his eyes. Her heart gave an answering leap as he drew her to him. Then he captured her lips in a fiery joining that would surely have caught the castle keep on fire had it not already fallen to ruin long ago.

The days to follow were wonderful, occupied by long walks and quiet conversations. Horatio accompanied them quite often. His manners and his health improved daily as he gained weight and began to trust. Violet was still his favorite, but he loved Adrian too; the dog’s long skinny tail flashing a happy salute every time the duke drew near.

Violet and Adrian indulged themselves in two additional day excursions. One to see the spectacular, fossil-rich shale beds that formed the steep dark cliffs of Kimmeridge Bay. The other to the small village of Lulworth for a look at another castle, and the beautiful Lulworth Cove with its odd rock formations and impressive stone arch.

Little doubt, Jeannette would have yawned her way through every minute of their provincial sightseeing. But Violet adored it, grateful Adrian did not know her sister well enough to realize what Jeannette’s real opinion would have been. Still, she was forever on her guard with him and the servants.

Night was the one time she felt truly free to be herself. She reveled in the dark quiet hours when Adrian came to her, came into her, allowing her to pour forth all the love and passion waiting inside. When they made love, he made love with
her,
with Violet. Every touch,
her
touch. Every kiss,
her
kiss. Each emotion, real and honest. Each cry of pleasure and delight cleaved from
her
body, drawn from
her
soul.

The only strain on an otherwise perfect union were the times when he would call out her sister’s name, leaving a lump in her chest, an ache in her heart that she was helpless to dispel. She had chosen her path. Assumed her twin’s identity. Now she must live with the consequences, be they joyful or filled with pain.

She wanted to tell him. Sometimes she had to bite her lip to keep the truth from tumbling out. In only a few days’ time, she had come to know him as she had never thought she might. To understand him, at least in part. She knew he would be viciously hurt, violently angry, utterly betrayed if she told him the truth. He turned to her now in the night, held her in her sleep. She didn’t think she could bear a day when he might turn away. When he might reject her, leave her.

So she kept her silence and her lies to herself. And tried to gather as much happiness as she could.

“Take off your shoes.” Adrian shucked his boots and stockings, his bare feet sinking into the warm, soft sand. His attire was casual. A white linen shirt and plain waistcoat, and an old pair of black trousers he’d rolled up to his knees.

His wife crossed her arms, hugged them to her chest, her pretty pink skirts blowing in the warm afternoon breeze. “No, thank you. I am fine exactly as I am.”

“You will only ruin them. They will be clogged with sand before you walk ten feet. Off with the shoes, Duchess.”

She arched a proud brow. “That is right. I am a duchess and as such do not cavort around barefoot in public.”

“Ah, but therein lies the speciousness of your argument. There is no public here; we are completely alone. As a duke, and your husband, I decree barefootedness to be perfectly proper attire for today’s adventure.”

“Barefootedness indeed,” she repeated scornfully, shaking her head. Moments later, though, she did as commanded, rolling her stockings into two neat balls that she stuffed into her abandoned footwear.

Adrian extended his hand.

She took it, let him lead her forward.

The day was sunny and warm, the warmest they had had all week. A sandpiper with its stubby brown and white body raced ahead of the incoming surf, long toothpick legs flashing fast. The bird turned to chase a receding ocean wave. He paused, quickly thrusting his narrow beak into the wet sand in search of a moist sea worm or small crustacean. Adrian smiled when the bird raced and the wave chased, the two beginning their curious dance all over again.

He turned his head to look at Jeannette, walking in silent contentment beside him despite her protestations against coming here. Odd that, he thought. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d caught her gazing out upon the sea over the past several days, noticeable pleasure alive in her eyes as she studied the rolling waves and the beauty of the winding shoreline.

In spite of her obvious enjoyment, she expressed no interest in exploring the beach. She would be hot, she’d say. She would get dirty. She would ruin her attire. Yet he sensed her protestations were halfhearted at best. That underneath them she longed to indulge her senses, to break free of the restraints she had imposed upon herself and simply explore.

At first, he’d worried she would be hopelessly bored without Society and its constant diversions. He’d experienced a few uncomfortable moments, doubting his decision to bury the two of them here in the country with nothing more exciting to do than tour the local sights. Yet she hadn’t seemed bored at all. Quite the contrary. She’d had fun, he knew she had, her enjoyment in no way feigned. His own certainly hadn’t been. He couldn’t recall a better week, sorry their time here was nearly over.

She’d surprised him. Her moods were mercurial, hard to pin down, ranging from gentle to haughty, playful to prickly. He never knew what to expect of her. Strange, but at times she almost seemed like two women. The outgoing belle-of-the-ball he’d courted in London; the woman who loved parties and people, and took far too many pains with her appearance. And the shy innocent. The girl who put herself in harm’s way to rescue a stray dog. Who seemed utterly content to hold hands and share a quiet evening of lazy talk. Who kissed him with such sweet, eager abandon he thought his heart might burst from the sheer glory of it.

Which woman would she be today?

“Let’s wade,” he urged suddenly. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her behind him and plunged them both into rushing waves.

“Oh, my dress. Look what you’ve done. It is quite ruined, you fiend.” Her pink muslin gown swirled in the receding wave, wet sand clinging in a wide swathe along the bottom of the material as the water drained away.

“Don’t fret. I’ll buy you another. Watch out, here comes the next wave.” The sea roared in, drenching them both up to the knees.

She pulled away, waded up onto dry land. Her sodden skirt was wet and heavy, and clung to her calves. She leaned over, squeezed as much water as she could from the hem. “Now what am I to do?” she demanded, holding her arms out to her sides to display her sad predicament.

“Take it off.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Take it off, the dress. Keep your petticoat on and tuck the skirt up between your legs so you can play in the waves.”

Color stained her cheeks. “Adrian, I couldn’t.”

He stooped over to pick up a seashell, tossed it back when he found half of it eroded away. “Of course you can. No one will see you.”

“What about the servants? Or the local villagers? Or sailors out there on the sea?” She motioned a hand toward the open water. “Who knows who might happen by.”

“The servants won’t come looking for us down here. The nearest village is two miles away, so there won’t be any locals venturing in our direction. And as for sailors…” He raised a hand to shield his eyes, scanning the distant horizon. “Not a single boat in sight. Unless a Navy frigate cruises past and her captain has a very fine telescope, I believe your modesty has naught to fear.”

“Does the Navy often sail in these waters?”

“Not so much since the war. Turn around. I’ll help with the buttons.”

A long moment passed before she acquiesced. “You are making me over into a complete wanton, you know that,” she grumbled, presenting her back to him.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her neck.

“So long as you are
my
wanton and no one else’s.”

“There could be no one else. No one but you.”

Their eyes met and held for a long, speaking moment. His heart tightened like a fist inside his chest, his throat squeezing closed as if he had swallowed wrong.

Mine,
he thought.
She is all mine.

And he would maim any man who tried to take her from him. The fierce rush of possessiveness surprised him, alarmed him, the emotion entirely foreign to his nature. He’d thought it didn’t matter, her purity, her fidelity. But he found that now, after barely a week of marriage, it did.

Just as she mattered, in a way he had not thought she would.

Was he falling in love with her? The notion jarred him.

No, he decided as he forced his suddenly unsteady fingers to keep working at her buttons. That sort of emotion was impossible. He wanted her. He had no doubt of that. He’d taken her every night and most mornings since they’d arrived. Waking her in the black velvet darkness just before dawn. He loved hearing her sweet sighs ring in his ears as pale light seeped in from behind the bedroom curtains while birds trilled a chorus in the trees outside to welcome the new day.