The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) (17 page)

    “Testing for squeaks and other noises.” He laughed at the expression on her face. “I’m about to make love to you and I thought you might be embarrassed if the servants could hear the bed. Some are a bit creaky, you know. Fortunately, this one is rather substantial and not particularly noisy. And as you said, very comfortable.”
    Her eyes widened. “But
I
make noise. At least you told me I do. Personally, I think you made it up.”
    “I like the noises you make. As long as you’re moaning and screaming I know that you’re enjoying yourself.”
    “I may moan, but I refuse to believe I scream.”
    “You scream beautifully. Now scoot over in the middle.”
    She did as he asked but grumbled, “I don’t see why I should be the one to move. I was perfectly comfortable where I was.”
    He grinned as he slipped a hand under her skirt and ran it up the inside of her leg, stopping a few inches shy of where he knew she actually wanted him to be.
    She stared at him a moment then scooted down a bit until his fingers touched the soft, warm flesh between her legs. She bit down on her lower lip. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath. It almost killed him to keep still.
    “Wretch. Must I do your part as well as my own?” She wiggled against him and that was it. He pushed her skirt, petticoat and shift up around her waist. She wore brown kid half boots and silken stockings tied with garters just above her knees. Then there was an expanse of long, well shaped thighs, then the triangle of copper curls and her flat, white belly. He ran his hands up the inside of her thighs and they fell open. She was completely exposed to him, completely trusting and he couldn’t imagine ever growing tired of bedding this delightful creature who was also his wife. He unfastened his breeches, freed himself, knelt between her legs and slipped inside her with one easy thrust. Resting the bulk of his weight on his forearms, he slowly withdrew until he’d almost left her. They could hear the sound of something heavy being moved in the next room. He smiled lazily and whispered, “Did you hear that? They’ve brought up the trunks. They’re not twenty feet away from us. Should I make you scream?”
    “I don’t scream.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him against her until he was submerged again. He pulled away slowly again until she stopped him with her legs and forced him to return deep inside her. Eyes locked they continued to make love in this languorous fashion; the need to be quiet somehow intensifying the experience. Even when the intensity built he kept his movements slow and deliberate. And when he knew she was almost at her peak he slipped his hand between them and touched her soft flesh. His mouth covered hers with a deep penetrating kiss before she could utter a sound. She held his hips tightly not allowing him to move as she ground herself against him. He could feel the throbbing of her flesh around him and could hold back no longer. He spilled into her with his own glorious release.
    When his head cleared, it occurred to him that if she wasn’t breeding soon, it wasn’t for lack of trying. He prided himself on being a good lover. He had always tried to bring fulfillment to his partners and for the most part he was successful. But he’d never been with a woman who enjoyed making love as much as Cecelia did. She was touchingly honest about her need for him. And they seemed so in tune with one another, knowing where to touch, when to shift just so. Yet the ability came naturally, not from experience. It had been there the first time they made love. He could anticipate her reaction almost as if when they joined bodies something deeper inside was joined as well. Their souls?
Where the devil did that come from?
He shook his head as if to shake the idea from his mind. Romantic nonsense. Byronesque even. No, he wouldn’t try to understand it. He would accept and enjoy it and leave it at that.
    He slid his fingertip down her forehead to the tip of her nose. Her eyes were closed and a crescent of red blond lashes rested on her cheeks. She was breathing deeply and evenly and wore a look of calm contentment look on her face. He smiled. She had fallen asleep.
    He rose from the bed and fastened his breeches. She mumbled something incoherent and rolled over on her side. Her skirts were still hiked up around her waist and she was treating him to a view of a nicely rounded backside. It was a fetching sight but not one for the servants to see. He pulled her skirts down and removed her half-boots. He chuckled softly. She was actually about to sleep through tea time. But that meant that she would be ravenous and grumpy by supper. If he had an ounce of self preservation he’d snatch a few pastries from the tea tray to set aside before that happened. “Sleep well,” he murmured then went in search of his port.

W
ith over thirty bedchambers, three kitchens, two ballrooms, an immense dining hall that could easily seat a hundred, another which could by no means be considered small, a breakfast room, salons, drawings rooms, a laundry, a still room, servant’s quarters large enough to accommodate up to seventy servants, a vast wine cellar and a sundry of other chambers, their tour of Fenton Abbey was by no means complete in the time Rand had allowed. Most of the rooms had been closed off and their furnishings hidden beneath Holland covers, but at the end of their grand excursion Lord and Lady Clarendon were pleased with what they had seen. Fenton Abbey was impressive.
    Not that there weren’t improvements to be made. There was water damage in the west wing and the roof needed repairs. The smaller of the two ballrooms had been gutted years ago and was now used as storage. Windows needed to be replaced, floors needed refinishing, a number of the rooms needed to be repainted and papered. Drapes need to be replaced. The nursery lacked the cheeriness of the nursery at Danfield House, but Cecelia thought it could be brightened up with a coat of paint and colorful curtains. There was much to be done, but overall there was nothing of vast undertaking that needed immediate attention and Cecelia had to admit she was greatly relieved. She wanted to get her bearings as mistress of the household before taking on any major projects.
    She and Rand had dressed for dinner and were waiting in the second floor drawing room for dinner to be announced. The drapes to the tall mullioned windows had been opened affording a view of the parkland. It was near dusk and the gardens and expanse of rolling lawn were tinged with a rosy pink. Above that, stars were just beginning to emerge in the darkening sky.
    It was a lovely, peaceful setting and as Cecelia took a sip of her sherry she felt a sense of contentment. The air had turned cool and she was wearing a gold trimmed ivory velvet wrap over a green muslin gown shot with gold thread. Her hair was piled on top of her head. A long stray curl had escaped where the pin had worked itself loose. She tugged at it as she gazed at her husband who was impeccably turned out in a dark blue jacket and waistcoat and charcoal gray breeches. A sapphire pin was tucked into the front of his white cravat and not a hair was out of place. “Why is it that you always look perfectly groomed and I look as I’d been in a windstorm?” she grumbled.
    He came up beside her. “You don’t look as if you’ve been in a windstorm. You look as if you’ve just been nicely tumbled.”
    “And you would be right. I must say, you certainly live up to your nickname. What was it?” She rested a fingertip against her chin and pretended to think. “Oh, now, I remember,” she said with a straight face. “Randy Dandy.”
    If he was surprised that she was privy to the name he’d been given by his school mates at the age of fifteen, he showed no indication. “You wouldn’t be complaining would you?” he asked.
    “No, I’m not complaining.” Her smile widened and she turned back to the window. “Have you any idea what that is off in the distance to the side of that copse of trees? Just the top of it is visible.”
    He narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out the structure. “Ruins of some sort, I would think. It might be the original Abbey. I suppose we should learn the history of the place. Seems a bit shallow-minded of us not to know not to know anything at all.”
    Her interest truly caught, she said, “I should like to ride out there.”
    Rand caught her chin and tilted it up slowly until he looked her straight in the eye. He did not look happy. “You will not. I repeat, you will not ride off alone. Not even as far as the orchard, wherever that may be. Curb your adventurous nature and grant me the peace of mind of knowing that you’re safe. Penny and Hudson will arrive in a few days along with Harris and one of his grooms. Until then you ride with me or not at all.”
    “But the bay mare is lovely and I thought to try her out since Penny isn’t here yet. Why can’t one of the grooms we brought ride with me?”
    “They’re too young and inexperienced to deal with your shenanigans. You’ll run them in circles and the instant they look away, you’ll disappear.”
    “I will not!” she protested.
    “I’m not about to argue with you over this. You’ll have to accept it.”
    She sighed. “I suppose.”
    “You suppose? I’m serious about this Cecelia. You’re too adventurous by half. Until Harris arrives you will ride with me. And only me. I don’t know anyone here well enough to trust them with my wife. And yes, you and I will ride tomorrow. And if it isn’t too far, we will ride to the mysterious ruins.”
    She had a strong urge to stick out her tongue. “You’re very bossy.”
    “With good reason.”
    She took another sip of her sherry. “The ballroom in the west wing is in such disrepair. What should we do with it?”
    “Is it large enough for pony races?”
    She burst into laughter. “I believe you and Eugene tried that didn’t you?”
    “No. Not pony races. If you’re going to bring up childhood mischief you must be accurate. We had wheelbarrow races in the corridors of Bryony Hall. We did try to sneak my pony into the house in Mayfair, but we didn’t manage to get past the first floor. My sister saw us and ran straight to Mother. She was forever telling on us. I shudder to think what trouble we might have caused, had she not been such a tattletale.”
    “Rosie and David are angels compared to you and Eugene as children.”
    “But they’re young, yet. Give them time.”
    “Do you really mind so much having them here?”
    “Two days in a coach with a small child was immensely trying but now that we’re here, I don’t suppose that I mind that much. The ordeal has helped me realize something, though.” He grinned. “I don’t pay the staff at Danfield House near enough.”
    “My lord. My lady.” Winston’s voice came just as the clock chimed eight.
    “Ah. There’s Winston. Shall we go into dinner?” He gave Cecelia his arm and they followed Winston down the corridor.”
    “Winston.”
    “Yes, my lord?”
    “What do you know of our neighbors? I am assuming that we have some.”
    “A few, my lord. Lord and Lady Trenton are on your northern boundary. Lord and Lady Richmond are just beyond that, outside Exmoor. Lord and Lady Sheraton are northeast.”
    “Lord Sheraton?” Rand queried. “Would that be Jack Deming? Didn’t know he got remarried. I wonder who the lady is?”
    “A Lady Grenville, I believe.”
    Cecelia felt a sudden tension in his body, but his tone remained casual as he remarked, “You are a veritable wealth of information, Winston.”
    “Thank you, my lord. I do try.” He opened the double doors to the dining room. “I thought you would prefer to eat in here.”
    “You were quite right. This is splendid.”
    In the light of day, even the smaller dining room was too large to be considered cozy but the table was illuminated by a candelabra at one end and the two place settings were set close enough for intimate conversation.
    “And what do we have on the menu this evening, Winston?” Rand asked as he seated Cecelia.
    “Turtle soup, braised Dover sole, roast pheasant, mushrooms with peas, roasted potatoes and strawberry compote with clotted cream.” The butler picked up a thick green bottle poured a small amount of rich burgundy into Rand’s cut crystal glass. “A ninety-eight, my lord. You may wish to tour the wine cellar. I dare say you will be pleased with our selection.”
    Rand tasted the wine and nodded his approval.
    “My lady?”
    “Yes please.”
    He poured wine for them both and then set the bottle on the table. “Is there anything more I can do for you?”
    “If you could answer a question for me.”
    “Of course, my lord.”
    “You seem born to your profession. Was your father a butler?”
    Winston allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. “No, my lord. He was a coal miner from Wales.”
    “Amazing. I never would have guessed. How did you manage to go from the coal mines of Wales to the esteemed position of butler?”
    “I was never actually in the mines, my lord. My mother and I left Wales when I was a small child. She was in service as cook and my uncle was butler in Devonshire. I owe my training to my uncle.”
    “And I owe you my thanks. You and Mrs. Brice have done an excellent job of keeping the household running smoothly as ownership and title has bounced from lord to lord. It couldn’t have been easy. I’m most grateful.”
    “Thank you, my lord, but we were only doing our job.” Winston bowed to them both and left the dining room.
    “The son of a coal miner,” Rand mused. “Amazing.”
    She nodded without comment, waiting until the soup had been served before saying, “Would you have the footman leave for a few minutes?”
    As he obliged, she studied his face. The classic features were softened by candlelight. His glowing hazel eyes were fringed with lashes that cast a shadow on his cheek. He was so very handsome; so easy for a woman to fall in love with. How many women were there? As he had told her earlier, she probably didn’t want to know. The door closed behind the footman. She took in a long deep breath. “Who is Lady Sheraton?
    He looked away briefly before meeting her gaze, but once met, his gaze was unwavering. “A former lover.”
    “I thought so. You tensed up when Winston said her name.” She paused. “It was certain to happen and I know that this won’t be the last time. I will try not to let it bother me, though I’m not certain how to go about it.” She brought the spoon halfway to her mouth and stopped. “Was she a virgin?”
    His eyes flashed as he set his glass down with a bang. “No! For God’s sake, why would you even ask me a question that?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed important.”
    “Cecelia.” His voice was very low, very controlled. "You know my reputation. We’ve never pretended otherwise. But it’s all in the past. I would never treat you as my father did my mother. You are my wife. I made a commitment to you when we married and I’m a man of my word. I promised to be faithful and I will.”
    
I made a commitment to you. I’m a man of my word.
There was no declaration of love or caring. She hadn’t expected one, but she hadn’t expected the omission to hurt. And it did.
    “Is she nice?”
    “Nice?” He frowned. “I don’t even remember. We didn’t interact socially to any great extent. It was purely a physical relationship. She was married to Lord Grenville who apparently had no interest in the opposite sex and that meant she was available. And then she was a widow and that also meant she was available.”
    She winced at his statement. “That’s awful. Where did you do it?”
    “Christ! I don’t remember,” he ground out. “Do we have to talk about this? Does it really matter at this point?”
    “I suppose not.” Cecelia calmly resumed eating her soup. She had pushed him too far but she didn’t seem to be able to help herself. The words just kept tumbling out of her mouth.
    Eyes dark, he stared at her. “I’d rather not bring up past liaisons, if it isn’t necessary. It will be uncomfortable for both of us.” His voice was tight and clipped.
    She stared back then conceded, “As you wish.”
    They both made an effort to get past the topic and by the time the sole arrived they had resumed normal conversation, but there was still a tension in the air that was difficult to ignore. When Winston brought in the strawberry compote, she shook her head. “No thank you. I wouldn’t care for any.”
    “Would you prefer that Cook prepare something more to your taste? She makes excellent custards my lady.”
    She tried to offer a smile. “I’m sure that she does. Everything was delicious and I love strawberries, but I’m very tired and only wish to find my bed.”
    “Are you feeling ill?” Rand asked.
    “Nothing other than a bit of a headache. It’s been a long day and it’s simply caught up with me.”
    Rand pushed his chair and made to rise. “I’ll see you upstairs then.”
    “It isn’t necessary,” she said quickly. “I can find my way.”
    A look of indecision crossed his face before he stood to help her from her chair. “Very well. I’ll be up shortly.”
    Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes as she left the dining room. She didn’t want to be upset over this and she definitely didn’t want to succumb to tears. If this happened every time a former lover of his was mentioned she would be in tears for the rest of her life. At least, he had been honest. If he had tried to cover it up, it would be even worse. She slowed her pace. It wouldn’t do for the servants to see her dashing for her bedchamber with tears in her eyes. The gossip would run rampant. With this in mind, she reached her chambers without so much as a single tear sliding down her cheek. She closed the door behind her. Ashley sauntered over to her and she picked the kitten up and rubbed her fur against her face. Her chest rose and fell with an uneven sigh. “Oh, Ashley,” she murmured. “I’m such a nitwit, sometimes. I should have kept my mouth shut. What’s wrong with me?” Ashley purred loudly and somewhat comforted, Cecelia rang for Mattie to help her prepare for bed.