Only Scandal Will Do (32 page)

Chapter 29

Katarina sat, staring disconsolately out the carriage window at green fields dotted with placid sheep, fuming as she counted the hours until she and Duncan could at last be alone together. The comedy of errors that had ensued during the week since they’d landed in Mullion only heightened her frustration. Despite their now mutual attraction, desire, and downright lust for one another, their marriage remained unconsummated.

Duncan had not returned to her that first night: a thrown horseshoe, a hard bargain for a poor carriage without benefit of a coachman and a missed turn in the dark meant he did not arrive back at the inn until almost noon the following day. Hard traveling commenced, but they’d reached Falmouth in good time, engaged a well-appointed room and had eagerly prepared for a romantic rendezvous. Then she’d been forced to perform the unpleasant and embarrassing task of telling her husband that her courses had come upon her. Disappointment, almost sharper than she could bear, added a touch of irony to the already ludicrous situation. The small comfort left her, of sleeping in each other’s arms, ultimately proved more torture than boon.

Four excruciatingly long days later, her monthly time over, she again anticipated their night together, only to find the one available inn possessed but a single unoccupied room. Margery’s subsequent presence in the chamber quashed any amorous plans for the night.

The trap rattled open, pulling Kat from her morose memories.

“About two miles to go, my lady,” Duncan called from his perch on the box before the lid slammed shut again. Unwilling to venture further from his beloved Mullion, Grimes had abandoned them in Falmouth, which had forced Duncan to drive during most of the trip.

A mixed blessing. She sighed. After six days of enforced celibacy, a mere glance into Duncan’s eyes, burning with desire for her, set her trembling like an aspen in a high wind; the briefest touch of his finger sent her heart pounding as though determined to leap from her chest. Had he been in the carriage with her today, she would have pounced on him like a hungry lioness on an antelope. And that would have been a shame, for she wanted the tenderness her husband promised, as well as the heated passion that seethed between them whenever they were together.

Only two miles more, thank God.

The carriage slowed. They had reached their destination, Duncan’s estate on the Cornish coast near the Seaton River. Lush, well-tended lawns on either side of the lane gave way to a circular driveway before a pleasantly proportioned two-story manor house. Rows of gleaming windows shone bright in the afternoon light, giving an airiness to the imposing silver-gray stone structure and captivating Katarina with the charm of the stately, yet inviting, house. They stopped beside a columned portico. Duncan handed her out as soon as a groom came to hold the horses.

“Welcome to Seaton House, my dear.” He tucked her hand firmly into the crook of his elbow. Her temperature rose several degrees. “An oasis in the wilderness. This manor came to the family from my mother on her marriage and was always a favorite haunt in summer.”

Duncan escorted her into a spacious wood-paneled foyer as servants seemed to materialize out of thin air. Not even in her father’s drill formations had she seen such precision and speed. Before she quite knew what was happening, she found herself in an elegant bed chamber decorated in muted tones of gold and burgundy. One maid supervised a bath behind an elaborately scrolled screen, another released her from her travel stained gown and a third assisted Margery in unpacking her trunk.

With four servants scrambling about, she bathed, and had dressed in the ice blue wedding gown by the time Duncan tapped on the door. Margery admitted him, sent Duncan a sly glance then shooed the maids out of the chamber.

Freshly washed, shaved and changed into an elegant gold silk-jacquard suit, he looked devastatingly handsome. The clean smell of his citrus cologne drifted over her. Alone with him at last, and at a loss for what to do, she glanced down at her demurely folded hands. She had wished and dreamed and fretted for this moment, yet now she stood stock still, heart beating in little jerking spasms. And he was making her more nervous. He feasted on her with his warm gaze, stared unblinking for so long heat rose in her face. She had to do something to break the silence. “May I have some wine, please?” Perhaps that would help stave off this wretched trembling in her stomach.

He continued to gaze at her as he poured and handed her the goblet. Their fingers touched, sending a jolt through her so intense she almost dropped the goblet. She tried to sip the rich wine, but sips turned to gulps, though her eyes were screwed shut against the harsh bite of the dry vintage.

Duncan plucked the golden glass from her hand and deposited it with his on the table. “You do not need to find courage there for this evening, sweetheart,” he murmured, running a finger down her cheek. He leaned closer. “The act of love is a natural thing between a man and a woman. And I am so very glad I am the one who will share my love with you.” His breath puffed against her ear, sending shivers of desire through her. “Would you like to eat?”

She shook her head. Food was the last thing on her mind now.

“Good.” The lowered timbre of his voice set her trembling with excitement. “I find that particular appetite has fled me as well.” He ran his cupped hands down her arms, raising goose flesh in their wake. “Which leaves more room for others.”

Unsettled by his words, Kat waved toward the table, the room, his hands on her. “Are these your rake’s tricks?” She almost didn’t recognize the breathy voice as her own.

A low laugh said he had not taken offense. “But of course they are. Shall we keep a tally of which ones work best?”

Before she could answer, he engulfed her mouth with his, tugged on her lips and fondled the bottom one with his teeth. Her legs seemed as weak as water. She swayed toward him, slid against his hard chest where he held her with a sure grip; had she lifted her legs from the floor she would not have moved an inch. He nuzzled his way over to her ear and a low cry escaped her when his tongue caressed the sensitive inner curves. A moment later he kissed her neck and breathed, “Shall I undress you, love?”

At his throaty tone, molten desire streaked through her veins. An insistent ache pulsed deep between her thighs as her need for him escalated.

She nodded, completely under his spell. He steadied her and began to unfasten the bodice of her gown. When his fingers brushed her skin, prickles of delight shimmered down her body. A nibble on her earlobe, and the prickles became chills chasing down her neck. Of their own volition, her arms went around his waist and she stroked his back. Even through his coat, his muscles were rigid and smooth. He stood her away from him, and a rush of heat bloomed in her stomach as her bodice and skirt fell away from his clever fingers, leaving her clad only in lace-trimmed chemise, stockings and slippers.

The latter quickly dispensed with, Duncan gazed at her, a lazy smile touching his lips. He raised his arms and said, “Would you return the favor, sweet?”

A heated blush crept up her face, but she nodded and eased his jacket over his shoulders. The lush garment fell to the floor with a
plop
and she ran her hands down his arms, feeling the strong interplay of muscles beneath the fine linen shirt. From his torso, she traced his taut belly upward to his chest, then further, and shook loose his cravat. The lace-trimmed neckcloth fluttered to the floor. She undid first one, then the other button on his shirt, feasting her gaze on the display of soft golden hair and smooth skin as she unveiled his beautiful body. Seductive smile still in place, Duncan watched her, daring her to continue.

A need to meet his challenge drove her to tug his shirt loose, pull the cascading folds over his head and drink in the clean lines of him. Broad, muscular shoulders to narrow waist, he was perfect in form. She drew him close, rubbed her cheek against the downy mat on his chest, breathed in the musky masculine scent that was his. The steady beat of his heart taunted her, so she flicked her tongue over a flat brown nipple.

“God, Kat!” His body jerked and below, where her abdomen pressed, a surge of movement startled her. An expression of mingled shock and delight replaced his smile. “You wish to play with fire, madam?” he murmured hoarsely, bending his head as he captured her face in his hands. He seized her lips with his, plunged his tongue inward, and the floor, the room, the manor itself melted from existence.

Moans came from the back of her throat, and she was afraid she would faint at the tantalizing feeling of him inside her mouth. By the time he fastened his lips again on her neck and rained tiny kisses downward, she could hardly breathe. His mouth grazed the swell of her breast and her eyes popped open. Her chemise had joined the dress on the floor, leaving her completely naked. Then he engulfed her nipple in his hot, wet mouth.

“Duncan!” She could summon no more. Overwhelming shivers cut off further thought. With the tip of his tongue, he teased the sensitive flesh into a peak, then gently tugged on the point with his teeth. She grasped his arms to keep from sinking to the floor. A slick wetness gathered between her legs.

Her husband grinned wickedly and urged her into a chair. “Let me rid myself of the rest of these garments, my love.”

She took a ragged breath and glanced down. Her nipples stood erect, as if his mouth still teased them. Hard and swollen, they ached for his touch once more. God, he made her such a wanton–he had from the first night. Every inch of her body–skin, breasts, legs, and especially that hot place between her thighs–was on alert, eager and begging for his attention. The anticipation made her giddy. A look up at Duncan and she forgot to breathe. When had he shed the rest of his clothing?

He put to shame the pictures of nude Greek statues she’d seen. Or else those sculptors were a poor hand at their trade. His body was beautiful in its clean lines, chiseled abdomen and long, muscular limbs. Oh, to run her hands all over it! He was her first nude man–in the throbbing flesh. Her gaze dipped lower, to his cock that seemed to jut straight at her, beckon her with a siren’s song. Heat rushed to her face. This was a normal part of married life, certainly. The naughty part, to be sure, but...Would it be hot to the touch?

As if reading her thoughts, he moved closer and held out a hand. “You can touch me where you will, love. I won’t break and I don’t bite.” His brown eyes twinkled. “Well, not hard anyway.”

He pulled her from the chair and placed her hands on his waist. With a finger, he raised her chin and she found herself drowning in the dark, heated pools of his eyes. “Make love to me with your hands, Katarina. My body is yours. Do with me as you will.”

On the verge of panic, having no idea what to do, she would have backed away, but he slid his hands around her waist and said, “Follow me, love. When you want to go elsewhere, go and I will follow.”

Immediately he curved his hands over her hips, and after a moment’s hesitation, she moved her hands likewise. He continued around her backside, cupped her buttocks and she did the same, marveling at the firm, supple flesh beneath her fingertips. This intimacy was the most extraordinary experience of her life, to enjoy the sensation of his hands on her and of her hands on him, as if they were one being. She ran her fingertips lightly up his back and he skimmed her flesh as well, sending shivers down her spine. Did he feel that too? While she made light circles around his flat nipples, he fondled her breasts, squeezed them together until a deep valley appeared. A guttural moan came from his throat. His eyes were closed, fierce contentment on his face.

That image firmed Katarina’s resolve. Slowly, she retreated down his torso, stroked the sinewy muscles, and must have hit a sensitive spot, for he growled. As she circled his navel with her finger, tremors ran through him, which made her smile with satisfaction. She continued across his hard abdomen, vaguely aware that his touch had stopped mirroring hers, and dared to stray lower still, past his hips to the apex of his thighs. Her fingers brushed wiry hair, and she glanced up once more to gauge Duncan’s response. He stared back at her, his eyes pools of black. “
I love you
,” he mouthed soundlessly.

“I love you too, Duncan,” she said, and wrapped her hand around her husband’s erection. Great heat and smooth hardness registered as she brushed two fingers the full length to the end, exploring the different shape and texture at the crown. Before she could start the return journey, he seized her hand in a firm but gentle grip.

“You are a wonderfully quick student, my wife.” Duncan’s voice had lowered to a husky murmur she had never heard before. “But I think we must retire now, or we will never make it to the bed.” He drew her toward the big four-poster, but instead of laying her down, threw himself on his back in the center of the mattress and pulled her on top of him until she touched every inch of skin on his body.

“Duncan.” A mewl of desire escaped her as she rubbed her breasts against his bare chest. Her nipples now ached in need.

“Take your hair down, Katarina,” he whispered, pushing her up to sit astride his belly. “I want to make love to you with your ruby hair all around us.” Moments later the wealth of copper locks swung free, swirling around her shoulders, reaching past her waist, enveloping her in a fiery curtain.

“Ahh.” Duncan stared at her as if enchanted, did not move or speak. She shook her head, making her hair dance around them. He seized her arms and rolled them until she lay beneath him, pinned by his warm weight. Kat’s heart raced and the ache between her legs deepened, the final hunger to be appeased.