A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family) (33 page)

She let out a shuddering breath, and something dripped against his chest. He brushed his hand over her cheek and touched tears. His heart ached with tenderness, and he needed a moment before he could speak.

“I know, sweetheart,” he told her as he brushed the wetness away. “I’m happy too.”

All too soon, Diana pulled away from him. Henry watched in amusement as she attempted to leave the bed whilst keeping the sheet wrapped around her. Unfortunately, he had the other end of the sheet trapped very firmly beneath him. With a huff, she grabbed the counterpane and draped it around herself like a cape.

He crossed his arms behind his head. “I don’t know where you think you’re going, Di. Did you not hear me say I meant to keep you in bed for a week?”

“We went downstairs last night for supper.”

“So we did.” He grinned. “Heaven help us if Mrs. Polgrey ever learns your bare bottom has been in contact with the top of her new sycamore table. Ah, there’s that blush I love so well!”

She shook her head. “I want to see the house in proper light without you distracting me.”

He rose from the bed, and Diana’s eyes roamed over him with avid interest. He stretched, preening a bit. “I think you enjoy when I distract you.” She licked her lips and he started toward her.

Diana held up her hand. “No, we’re not going to spend a week in
there
—” She glanced at the bed. “—doing… doing
that
. I am already embarrassed to face Jasper and Timms. We will not insult Mrs. Polgrey by ignoring the breakfast she has doubtless cooked for us, and I must meet the rest of the staff.”

Henry strode forward and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ve spent so much time with my daring Diana of late. I am glad to see my dear Miss Merriwether hasn’t abandoned me. Someone must keep Ravensfield respectable. Go and wait in bed. I will ring for your maid.” He passed through the door that adjoined their rooms and pulled the bell cord, then returned to his chamber. He found fresh water in the basin in his dressing closet, and he washed quickly before donning a dressing gown.

He returned to Diana’s room to wait for her maid. He frowned as he glanced around. He’d wanted so badly for the house to be perfect for her, but he wasn’t willing to compromise on quality, and there just hadn’t been enough time to get everything done. Last night, as they’d explored by candlelight, imagination and shadows had filled in the missing pieces. In the crisp morning light, the unfinished state of the house became glaringly apparent. When Ellie arrived, Henry instructed her prepare a bath for Diana and to have hot water sent up to his dressing closet so he could shave.

“All right,” he called to Diana once the maid had gone, “Ellie will be with you shortly. You may as well come and see your room in the light of day.” She shuffled through the doorway clutching her quilt about her and began to look around. “It’s a work in progress,” he said quickly. “I’m sure you will want to choose your own decorations. The bed- hangings should be here within a fortnight. The dressing table is in the closet, and there’s a large bathing-tub in there as well. I asked Ellie to have a bath prepared for you. As for the curtains—”

Diana returned to him, reached a hand up to the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love it. I love everything we chose together, and I love what you chose for me. Do you think I don’t see that still life on that wall has lilies, or that the painting there is of the goddess Diana? The porcelain figures on the mantel are masked revelers right out of our night at Vauxhall. When did you find the time to get everything?”

“I enlisted help,” he admitted. “I mentioned to my sisters that they should keep their eyes open for some particular pieces when they went about their shopping. I believe they took my words as a challenge, because crates began showing up at the house within the week. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can have it changed.”

“I told you, I love it. The room is perfect. Thank you.” Her other arm joined its mate around his neck. The quilt fell to the floor leaving her naked length pressed against him. His sex rose beneath the silk damask robe to nudge at the soft flesh of her belly.

“Don’t get too fond of this room,” he warned her. “I have no intention of allowing you to make much use of it.”

Her lips curled. “There’s the rogue I married.” She rose up on her toes and caught his earlobe between her teeth. His breath hissed out, and then he sucked it back in when she reached down and tugged at his belt. The two halves of his robe fell apart, and Diana wrapped her fingers around him in an intimate caress. “It’s like satin,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “At once soft and hard, just like you.”

“Di, what are you—?” His voice cracked when her thumb brushed over the sensitive head.

“Martine’s talk was not completely uninformative.” She ran her fingers up and down his length, then paused. “You
do
like this?”

“I love it. God, don’t stop,” he pleaded.

She smiled at him, a temptress’s smile, so seductive and confident his breath caught. He stopped breathing as she sank to her knees before him, and then muttered an oath as she kissed the inside of his thigh. She sat back on her heels and gazed up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. As for him, well, if he got much more excited, he was going to explode.

“Though Martine forgot, I suspect deliberately, to mention any pain associated with the marriage bed, she was very, ah, explicit about the pleasures to be had.”

She seemed to expect a response, so Henry made a noise somewhere between a groan and a grunt, hoping it would suffice.

“She said men like to be kissed all over.”

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the middle of his thigh.

“Un bisou ici.”
A kiss here.

She rose up on her knees and pressed another kiss below his navel.

“Un bisou là.”
A kiss there.

He tangled his hands in her hair, urging her lower. She laughed softly, unknowingly teasing him with the puffs of her warm breath.

“Di,” he pleaded.

“Et le baiser d’amants…”
And the lovers’ kiss.

His breath hissed out at the first soft touch of her lips. She kissed him all over, up and down, quick, fleeting touches that proved the most exquisite torment he’d ever experienced. He didn’t know whether he wanted to thank Martine for her instructions or strangle her for not being nearly explicit enough.

“You can also… That is, sometimes… If you want…” It was a struggle to put any words together, let alone think of how to suggest his wife perform such an indelicate act.

“Yes?” She looked up at him expectantly.

“I—” he faltered. He wanted her mouth on him so badly he hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. “I want you.”

“Oh?” she asked a shade too innocently. “I thought perhaps you wanted
this
.” She licked him from the base up, then swirled her tongue around the tip.

His head fell back as his world narrowed to the hot, wet heaven of her mouth. When she reached between his thighs and cupped his bollocks, he knew the end was near. He clutched at her shoulders until she raised her head, confusion clouding her eyes.

“Want… to be… inside you,” he explained between heavy breaths.

She nodded eagerly and tugged at one of his hands as she lay back on the rug. He shrugged off his robe and followed her down. He took her mouth as he probed her sex. He found her wet and ready for him, and it was a good thing, because there was no finesse, nothing of the skilled lover in his actions.

Gone was his vaunted control. A need so desperate and fierce it was almost savage governed him now. Her sweetness, her desire to please him, undid him. She gasped his name as he slid a finger inside her. The sound of her pleasure drove him wild.

He levered himself up, added a second finger, and she rewarded him with a deep moan. Even as her hips rose to draw him deeper, she shook her head.

“You,” she demanded.
“You.”

She needn’t have told him twice. He entered her in one long, hard stroke. He stilled when she cried out.

“Di?”

“More.”
She flexed her hips, moaning as the action pushed him still deeper inside her.

He growled his pleasure as the ability to speak deserted him. Everything around him dissipated into a haze of passion. All that existed was the red-hot thrust and glide, as he withdrew until only the tip of him remained inside her, and then drove back into her silky depths.

His tongue flicked out to lick her salty tears as she contracted around him, drawing him deeper and demanding all he had to give. He could no more stop from giving it to her than he could stop the seasons from changing.

He rolled them so she lay on top of him, a limp, sweaty blanket. He stroked his hands over her back and down to her derriere. “I thought we weren’t going to spend all day doing this,” he murmured. “Or did you object to confining ourselves to the bed? ” He chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I have a great deal more affection for this room than I had before, but the water for your bath should have been brought up by now; it would be a shame to let it get cold.”

She scrambled off him, her horrified gaze fixed on the closet door. “Oh, heavens, do you think they heard?”

He laughed. “If our servants don’t have selective hearing, they’ll quickly acquire it. I mean to make love with my beautiful wife whenever the opportunity presents itself.” He got to his feet and pressed kisses to her flushed cheeks, then took her lips once more. Her eyes were glazed and dreamy when he lifted his head.

“Go to your bath, love, before I decide to test whether the tub is large enough for two.” He patted her bottom. “I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast.” He gathered up his dressing gown and returned to his chamber, leaving her to Ellie’s care. He found a fresh basin of water at his dressing table, only lukewarm now, but as his blood still simmered, that mattered little. He washed again and shaved himself. He’d nearly finished dressing when Jasper made an appearance.

Henry took one look at his valet and sighed. “Found a way to celebrate last night, did you?”

“Oh, aye!” Jasper grinned cockily. “I could tell you tales such as you wouldn’t believe.”

“I would have little trouble believing them, but if you’re hoping to romance my wife’s maid, this escapade had best be your last.”

Chastened, Jasper nodded. “I saw Mr. Kingsley this morning. He wants to speak to you as soon as you’ve the time. He says there’s nothing wrong, but I have the sense it’s important.”

Kingsley was Henry’s head groom, a gruff old man who’d been in charge of the stables at Weston Manor until Henry had stolen him and brought him to Ravensfield. If Kingsley needed to speak with him, that would be his first order of business. His stomach rumbled. Very well, it would be his
second
 order of business.

“I plan to eat breakfast with my wife,” Henry told his valet, “but tell Kingsley I’ll meet him in the stables afterward. Then, for God’s sake, go back to bed.” He glanced longingly at the rumpled sheets of his own. “One of us, at least, should spend the day there.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I hope you believe me when I tell you how pleased I am by this turn of events. After our meeting, you will not be surprised, I think, by what accompanies this note. Think of Penelope as my wedding present, free of any conditions or expectations. I only ask that you consider what I asked of you. I took the liberty of having my Zephyr cover Penelope, and she shows every indication of having conceived. By this time next year, you may be in possession of a future champion.

—FROM THOMAS MERRIWETHER TO HIS SON-IN-LAW HENRY WESTON

A
SMALL CROWD MET
D
IANA
when she came down to breakfast. She might have fled in the face of all the curious looks, but Henry met her on the stairs and took hold of her arm. She blushed as he introduced her to the butler, Timms, whom she’d seen briefly the day before. His wife, Mrs. Timms, was the housekeeper, and she was as tall and thin as her husband was short and fat. Diana thanked the woman for sending her husband over with the basket of food; though she knew how to plan a dinner party during any month of the year, she hadn’t the faintest notion how to execute any of the recipes in the cookery books.

Mrs. Timms then presented the cook, Mrs. Polgrey, followed by the three footmen, the two housemaids, the kitchen maid, the laundry maid, and lastly the scullery maid. The housekeeper rattled off their names in such rapid succession that Diana knew she had no hope of remembering any of them save for the last. She and Tilly, the scullery maid, were off to an excellent start.

The room cleared as Mrs. Timms dismissed everyone, and Diana looked around the hall. What she saw pleased her. The fluted columns and finely carved mahogany staircase were impressive without being ostentatious. The Gainsborough, Cuyp, and Teniers pictures hanging on the freshly painted walls had come from the Bedford sale, as had the ormolu chandelier. She glanced up toward the skylight and noted that the plasterwork needed repairs.

“You’re thinking much too hard before breakfast,” Henry told her as he slid his arm around her waist. “Mrs. Timms will take you around the house after we eat. For now, content yourself with the morning room.”