Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception Read online

  She rubbed herself against him with a little moan, and he pushed her back against the edge of a desk, getting some distance between their bodies to put a hand down the loose bodice of her gown. ‘You are a most welcoming woman, my dear. Bare under your dress again tonight. I think, if I had a mind to, you would let me take you here.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with a groan, thinking how wonderful it would be if he would lose control.

  ‘I could just hoist up your skirt …’

  ‘Yes …’ He was kissing her, short sharp bites on her lips, down her throat.

  ‘Undo a few buttons …’

  ‘Yes …’ One hand, tight upon her breast, the other in her skirt, squeezing her leg.

  ‘And I could be inside of you, before anyone was the wiser.’ He was holding her body a tantalising inch from his. And she pressed herself down onto his thigh.

  ‘Show me,’ she whispered back and pushed her hands between the buttons of his vest, searching to touch skin and not clothing.

  ‘Wait.’ He laughed. ‘Wait. There is time. We do not need to rush. Let me take you into the bedroom.’

  But if they took their time, he would be careful. And while it would be wonderful, it would not be what she truly wanted. ‘No. Here, now. Quickly.’ She kissed him, deep and wet, pushing her tongue into his mouth, sucking his back into hers.

  And for a moment, he stopped resisting her and pulled her hips forwards, wrapping a hand around them to lock her sex to his, grinding against her through their clothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself onto her toes, making it easier to join with him.

  Then he pulled his lips from hers and gave a shaky sigh. ‘No, my sweet. Let us go lie down and treat each other properly.’

  ‘And suppose I do not wish you to be proper?’ she said. ‘Suppose I wish you to be rough with me, and finish with me quickly and carelessly, in a public room, because you cannot stand to wait?’ She ran her leg up between his thighs until she could feel his manhood and pressed hard against it, rubbing her knee against him until he groaned.

  Then he unwrapped her arms from his body, trying to part them. ‘You do not understand,’ he said. ‘It is not that you do not tempt me.’

  ‘Then give me what I want,’ she demanded and lifted her own skirt to bare herself, pressing her naked sex against the front of his trousers, so close to him that she wanted to weep with frustration.

  Without thinking, he swore and his mouth covered hers again, and his hand fumbled to open his trousers, pushing the cloth away until they were skin to skin. He parted from her, just enough to mutter, ‘Lean back, just a bit.’ And now he was resting between her legs, rubbing himself gently against her and peppering her lips with desperate little kisses. ‘Just for a moment. Just a taste of you. I will be careful. I promise.’

  She smiled, trembling, waiting for the delicious shock of sensation that would soon come. ‘You do not have to be careful with me. Never with me. I am yours, Adrian. I love you.’

  And then it was over. He jerked away from her so fast that it was as though she had burned him, hurrying to do up his buttons although he was still obviously in need of her. ‘I think, my dear, that we had best take supper. Suddenly, I find myself in need of a cooling drink.’

  Emily held out a hand to him, remembering too late that he could not see it. But neither could he see her crimson cheeks, or the beginnings of tears. Then she smoothed her skirt back into place and wrapped her arms around herself as a shield against his rejection. ‘Do you really? Do you think I will forget my feelings for you? Or do you wish to distract yourself?’

  ‘Both, perhaps.’ He looked older than he had a few minutes ago. His face was serious and lined with stress, and his posture stiff and unnatural, as though he was guarding himself from her as well. ‘I do not think you understand what you are saying to me, and I do not mean to take advantage of a generosity that is based on lies and suppositions, no matter how pleasant they might be. You do not love me. You cannot.’

  ‘I do,’ she cried. ‘Do not think to tell me the contents of my heart, just because you wish it to be other than it is.’

  ‘We have known each other for only a few days. And what there has been between us is not love. It is something else entirely.’

  ‘Perhaps that is how it is for you,’ she said, ‘but I have known you for ever. And for as long as that, I have loved you.’

  He had nothing to say to that, and stood a little bit apart from her with a strange, lost look on his face, as though he feared that any direction he might move would be misinterpreted by her, as his other actions had been.

  She wanted to gather him close, to kiss his sightless eyes, and to tell him he had no reason to deny her or her love. There was nothing more natural in the world than for him to give in to the temptation and join with her. Her heart ached for it—just as her body ached for the child that he refused to give her.

  She took deep, slow breaths, willing the passion in her to subside, leaving cold emptiness in its wake. For a few moments, it had been as if the barriers he kept between them had fallen. He had returned to her, was with her, body and soul. And for that time, no matter what he might claim now, he had been ready not just to make love, but to love her without fear of the future.

  But now he was gone again. Hiding from his wife. Hiding from his lover. And even though they shared the same room, she felt lonelier than she had a week ago, when he had seemed as distant from her as a ship on the horizon.

  Though it did not matter how she looked, she put on a false smile and said, ‘You are right. There is a supper laid for us in the dining room. Let me take your arm, that you might lead me to it.’ She put her hand in the crook of his elbow and gave him the direction he needed so that he might walk her to the table. They seated themselves and ate in near silence, with only the occasional nervous comment from him about the tenderness of the vegetables, and his gratitude to the cook for doing such a thorough job of boning the salmon.

  When it looked as though he was ready to give a lengthy oration on the dessert, Emily cut him off. ‘I am sorry if I upset you.’

  ‘You did nothing of the kind,’ he assured her, a little too quickly.

  ‘Of course I did. And I would understand if you did not want to stay with me tonight.’

  ‘Of course I wish to stay,’ he said, reaching across the table to grasp her hand, ‘but I do not know if it is wise.’ And then he squeezed her fingers. ‘But I do not know if I want to be wise, if it means losing my time with you.’

  ‘That is a comfort. I promise not to say it again.

  You needn’t worry.’ It. As though she felt some objectionable thing that needed to be hidden.

  ‘Actually, I would prefer that you are honest with me. It is most refreshing to find a woman who speaks frankly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, hating herself for the lies, wanting to scream the truth in his face. I am your wife. Your Emily.

  Love me.

  ‘It is just that I do not want you to raise your hopes about what can be between us in the end. It is not that I do not … have feelings for you. Strong feelings,’ he amended. There was a wistful quality in his voice, as though he were staring through a shop window at something he could not have. ‘You are a friend and confidante. Someone I trust implicitly and who trusts me in return. If that is the true definition of a lover, then that is what you are to me. And that is what I wish to be for you.’

  Emily stared down into her plate, thinking of how it had been in Derbyshire. Then, such pretty words would have sent her heart racing. He felt strongly for her. He wanted her. She was something like a lover to him. Why could she not be satisfied? Why was that not enough?

  Without releasing her hand, he stood, drawing her up with him. From memory, he led the way from the table to the bedroom. He took the time to arrange his clothes as he removed them, but took no such care with hers, opening the buttons at the back of her gown and letting it fall to the floor at her feet. He lifted her out of it an
d set her upon the bed with a kiss on the lips before sliding his body down hers, taking her breasts with long slow licks, smoothing his hands over her ribs and settling himself between her legs to kiss there, tenderly, worshipfully.

  She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his ministrations, the tug of teeth, the gentle probing of fingers, the tentative invasions of his tongue. And she told herself that it was greedy of her to want more when he was giving her something that felt so good. And she knew, from the previous times he’d done it, that what he was doing had the strength to rend her soul from her body and send it crashing back to earth again.

  The final pleasure was slow in coming. And when it came, she wept.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sun was well up by the time Adrian awakened. He did nothing to acknowledge it for his lover was still sleeping on his arm. The night had been as glorious as the night before, and parts of the night before that. As exciting as the fight in the tavern. And probably almost as dangerous.

  I love you.

  When she had said it, along with the abject terror it had raised in him had been the ghostly echo of a response in his own heart—how could something as perfect as the time they spent together not have some deeper feeling in it? He smoothed a hand over her curls and she nuzzled him in her sleep.

  If she had said nothing, he’d have ignored his intentions and taken her up against the wall in the salon, trusting that she would tell him if they were not alone—he could not have heard a servant’s footstep had he tried, his heart had been beating so loudly. Apparently, there was madness in what he felt for her as well.

  And then she had said the words, and he’d stopped himself, too near the brink. He’d taken her to dinner, then he’d taken her to bed. And he’d loved her in all the ways he could until he was sure that she had forgotten.

  But her pillow was wet with tears. And in her sleep, she had whimpered like a lost child.

  She stirred; he ran a soothing hand over her back, wishing that she would sleep again. It felt good to be here and he did not want to go. She rolled off his arm to free it, and he could feel her and see the shadow as she propped herself up on her elbows in the pillows. ‘You are not going to run away from me in the dawn?’

  ‘I am afraid it is too late for that already. But I must go soon.’

  ‘Then stay a while longer,’ she said. ‘Give me time to wash and dress. I will go with you and see you home.’

  He frowned. ‘There is no need to help me. I am quite capable of managing a carriage ride, you know.’

  ‘Of course you are, Adrian.’ She rose from the bed, and opened the window curtains without waiting for a servant, letting the light stream in on them. ‘But it is a beautiful morning. And to walk in the park, for just a little while, would be delightful.’

  ‘You should not go out without escort,’ he said absently, wondering if she meant to take a maid with them as well.

  ‘I will have you.’

  ‘You will not.’

  ‘Just a short outing together. In sunlight.’

  ‘Do you wish for me to ride in Rotten Row?’ he snapped, wishing that he had not just revealed the fear he felt when he thought of so public a place. ‘I suspect that would be most amusing for all concerned.’

  ‘Of course I do not wish you to ride. If you mean to break your neck, then I pray you, find another way. You cannot trust a horse to do the deed without undo suffering. To me especially, for I would not wish to watch.’

  And now she had made him laugh, against his better judgement.

  ‘But there is nothing wrong with your legs, is there?’ She had come back to the bed and her fingers were stroking them, with faint touches meant to raise the hairs and tease the nerves to restlessness.

  He pulled away from her and sat up, dangling his feet off the edge of her bed. ‘No.’

  ‘How long has it been since you have enjoyed a simple walk in the park? You prowl the streets at night, of course. But it would be nice to feel the sun on one’s face.’ She crawled after him, putting her arms about his waist and giving a little squeeze. ‘For both of us.’

  She was right, of course. It must be difficult for her to meet only at night. While the secrecy was necessary, it must make her feel as though he was ashamed of her company. And he knew how sensitive she still was on the subject of her worth. ‘It is not just a matter of revealing ourselves, my dear. I have not made my condition publicly known. And while it is possible to disguise it in familiar territory and for short periods of time, should I be seen blundering into a tree in Hyde Park, I suspect that the world will be too soon completely aware.’

  ‘I am suggesting nothing of the kind,’ she argued. ‘It is not fashionable there until late in the afternoon. If we go now, no one will be about. We could keep our stroll short, on a path that is straight and level and far away from Kings Road. If you take my arm, you might lead me, and I will inform you of any obstacles, just as we do here. It will be most uneventful.’

  ‘And not particularly interesting. If you wish to spend the day with me, I can think of better uses for your time.’ He leaned against her, feeling her breasts pressing into his back, and her breath upon his neck.

  ‘If a morning outing bores you, then you need have nothing to fear from it,’ she responded tartly.

  ‘Fear? I faced Napoleon’s army without flinching. I do not avoid the park because I am afraid.’ Terrified was more the word.

  ‘Of course you are not. But I do not see why you cannot give me what I ask, when it is such a small thing.’

  ‘It is because it’s so small that I see no value in it.’ He reached behind him to touch her face. ‘Perhaps I could buy you a trinket. Some fobs for those lovely ears.’

  ‘And how would I explain them to my friends? Would I tell them that my husband had given me a gift?’ Now it was her turn to laugh bitterly. ‘They will assume that I am unfaithful far more quickly from that than if they see me taking the air with a male acquaintance.’

  She was glib this morning, and as frank as she had been from the first. But last night she had said she loved him. And he was pretending she had said nothing, and treating her little better than a whore, kept for one purpose, and plied with jewellery to avert a sulk. He shamed himself with his behaviour more than he ever could by groping his way around Hyde Park.

  As if she could sense his weakening, she said, more softly, ‘We will not be out for long. And tonight, for your reward, you can do as you like with me.’ She was kissing his back now, and spreading her hands in his lap over his manhood, perfectly still as though waiting for his instructions. ‘But for now? You owe me this, at least.’

  Because you will not love me. That was what she meant, he was sure. And he wondered if this would be the first of many such bargains: pouts and capitulations that would lead to arguments, bitterness and regrets. If it was, it was likely the beginning of the end for them. The scales that had been so delicately balanced would never be right again. Last night, words had been spoken and they could not be unsaid.

  But he did not want to give her up. Not yet. It was too soon. And although he had not intended to feel anything, ever again, she made him happy. He captured her hands before she could arouse him, and turned his face to kiss her, then pretended to consider. ‘To do as I like with you? That is an offer I have no power to resist. Even without it, I will go. I need no other reason but that it pleases you. Now if you mean for me to leave this room in daylight, you had best let me dress before I change my mind and take you back to bed.’

  Emily could see, from the moment they left the carriage, that the trip had been a good idea. She allowed the coachman to help her down, and then took her husband’s arm as he waited on the ground for her. Adrian’s face was tipped towards the sunlight; he was staring up into the canopy of leaves above them as though he had never seen such a wonderful thing.

  Without knowing it, she would never have guessed that the sense of wonder had less to do with the fine day than his inability to see the t
rees with any clarity.

  He looked down and to the side again, as he always did, tipping the brim of his hat a bit to provide more shade. ‘There are tinted glasses they gave me, after the injury on the battlefield, to shield my eyes against the glare of the sun. Perhaps I shall find them again, for occasions like this.’

  ‘You mean to go out with me again?’

  He sighed. ‘With or without you. Someday, rumour of my condition is bound to get out. There will be no point in hiding in my rooms when it does.’

  It was the first she had heard of him planning for anything but his premature death. She stifled the surprise she felt, fearing that an acknowledgement of it might scare the idea from his head.

  But he did not seem to notice his own change in attitude, and touched his own eyes thoughtfully. ‘It might make it easier to manage in sunlight, with what vision I have left. And disguise any unfortunate staring on my part. I would not want to be thought rude.’

  ‘An interesting sentiment, coming from the man I met a few days ago,’ she answered.

  He laughed again. ‘No gentleman wishes to be met by a lady in such surroundings as you found me. It makes it too difficult to pretend to any gentility at a later date. Come, let us take a turn around the park, so that I might prove I have manners.’

  She gave his elbow a little squeeze. ‘The path is just to the left. And straight on. There is no one in sight.’

  ‘There never is, my dear.’

  She cringed at her own insensitivity. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘Why ever for? You did not strike me blind with your beauty,’ he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips for a salute. ‘Nor do I begrudge you your vision.’

  She relaxed a little as he put her hand back on his arm. ‘Sometimes, I am still unsure how to behave around you. You have been angry enough to destroy your life over this, you know. It does not bespeak a man content in his disability.’