The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (12 page)

“You can still win her, you know.”

Startled, William’s head snapped around to find his aunt keeping pace with him. She gave him a smug little smile and nodded toward Lucy. “You’re married to her, William. Would it be so terrible if you tried to romance her a little? If I were you, I’d snatch her away from your rakish friends before one of them beats you to it. From what I understand, they’re quite the womanizers—Fairfield included.”

With concern whipping through him, William gave her a curt nod. “Duly noted. Thank you.” Then, picking up his pace, he hurried forward until he was directly behind Lucy. He caught her by the elbow, effectively yanking her to a halt. “If you don’t mind, there’s a pressing matter that I wish to discuss with my wife,” he said, ignoring Lucy’s startled and very annoyed expression as he addressed his friends. “We’ll meet you back at the house in roughly half an hour. Andrew, would you please see to it that tea is served on the terrace? Or lemonade for those who require something more refreshing?”

“Yes, of course,” Andrew replied, seemingly a bit taken aback by William’s sudden haste.

Lucy, on the other hand, wasn’t afforded the opportunity to utter a single word of protest before William practically made her fly across the neatly trimmed lawn, hauling her along at a pace that many might have considered quite dangerous. He didn’t care; all he knew was that he had to put a solid end to the rift between them. Somehow, they had to make it work or they would both face the very real possibility of a miserable marriage.

Not until they had passed out of sight of the others and were safely hidden away by the hedges that separated the lawn from the rose garden did William slow his pace. Looking sideways he saw that Lucy’s breath was coming hard while a frosty glare had become visible in her bright green eyes. He hazarded a smile, but rather than return it as he had hoped, her frown merely deepened. “What on earth is wrong with you?” she fumed.

His own expression sobered in response to her harsh tone. “Like I said, there’s a pressing matter that I wish to discuss with you.”

She stopped and turned to face him, her hands on her hips and her chin jutting out in anger. “What?” Her tone was terse. “What could possibly be so important that you felt the need to humiliate me twice in the course of one morning?”

For a long moment, William just stood there, staring down at her. She was right to be angry with him for so publicly humiliating her. He now feared that she might not welcome his advances.

Focusing on the larger picture, he forced his misgivings aside and closed the distance between them with a single step, his gray-blue eyes locking onto hers. “Merely this,” he muttered, so low that it was but a rough whisper in the air. And then he claimed her, his hands reaching around her waist, locking her in a tight embrace and pulling her close as his mouth bore down upon hers. She didn’t attempt to escape—didn’t even flinch. Her only response was a gasp the moment he lowered his head and she realized his intent.

And then his lips were upon hers. She was just as soft as he remembered, but more accepting and, if possible, more willing. A thrill of excitement seeped through him, quickening his heartbeat. He wanted to be gentle with her—allow her the chance to adjust to the unexpectedness of the kiss—but heaven help him, he wanted her, and being denied the pleasures she offered had begun to drive him mad with desire.

Still, he wanted her to come to him of her own free will and not by force. Slowly and methodically he hoped to awaken her inner passion, offering her only the occasional taste of what he would give her, until she’d find herself consumed by lust. It was a task he’d never faced before. The women he’d known had always been more than eager to share his bed, but then again, they’d all had ample experience. Lucy was different in that regard—thankfully so, he decided—and as a result, she would require a far lengthier attempt at seduction on his part.

He ran his tongue along her lower lip, hot and beseeching. Her lips gradually parted of their own accord, allowing him entrance. With the skill of a man who’d kissed countless women before, his tongue swept over Lucy’s, coaxing her into a sensual dance that meant to mimic his own wicked desires. Oh, the things he longed to do to her—his imagination knew no bounds as far as his carnal urges were concerned.

His mind was swiftly returned to the present when he felt her hands splayed widely across his back, exploring his contours with nimble fingers, fingers that he could quite easily imagine doing other far more sinful things. Heaven help him if he wasn’t aroused to the point of unbearable pain, and he briefly wondered if she might have guessed what the hardness was that strained against her. She couldn’t possibly know, innocent that she was. But the soft murmurs of pleasure escaping her lips as he pressed soft kisses along the length of her neck were a sure indication that he was succeeding in his task, a task to uncover the wanton that he very much suspected to be residing beneath her otherwise ladylike façade.

Warm and inviting beneath his touch, his fingers felt the silky softness of her hair, the quickening of her heart beneath her breasts. Her breasts . . . God how he longed to bare them, to strip away the fabric of her gown and sear them with kisses. His groin tightened at the thought, and he found himself wondering if he would be able to stick to his plan and not merely toss her to the ground at the first available opportunity, like right now, for instance.

With more willpower than he’d ever imagined he possessed, he forced himself to take control of his own needs. His plan made sense, but in order for it to work, he would have to stop himself before he ripped her bodice down the middle and devoured her in broad daylight. The last thing she needed was for him to cause another embarrassing moment.

Disengaging himself and pushing her gently away, he eased back a little, enough to take a good look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, and her eyelids heavy over eyes that gazed back at him with longing. In short, she looked like a starved woman who’d just happened upon a bountiful feast. Her breathing was heavy with greed.

There was no doubt in William’s mind. His wife desired him, and if she said otherwise he would know that she was lying. This sort of blatant need—the sort that seeped from every pore—could not be conjured as a form of pretense, least of all by a virgin.

Satisfied and pleased beyond compare, he dipped his head to kiss the rise of her breasts, felt her breath catch and her body tremble. “What fools we’ve been,” he murmured, nudging the top of her sleeve a little to free her shoulder. He kissed her again. “We’ve wasted a whole week with our stubbornness.”

A sigh of pleasure was the only response she made. Blood roared through his veins. Once again he felt the overwhelming need to have her now, this very instant. Glancing sideways, he spotted one of the many benches adorning the garden, considered it momentarily, and finally dismissed the idea, marveling at his restraint as, for the hundredth time in the span of five minutes, he pulled on the reins and forced his baser instincts under control.

Stepping back, he saw the stunned look of confusion in her eyes and immediately took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing it. “Forgive me. It was not my intention to get so carried away.” Nudging her sleeve back to its proper position, he offered her his arm. “Would you please walk with me for a while?”

A dreamy look of detachment settled like a veil upon her face. She nodded slowly, clearly dazed and astounded by what had just happened between them, perhaps even (he hoped) a little disappointed and frustrated by how abruptly it had all ended. With measured steps, they made their way along a path that, skirting the perimeter of the property, would eventually lead them back to the house.

“Was it a mistake?” she suddenly asked so softly that he barely heard her.

“What?”

She paused for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “What we just . . . I mean . . .” She looked embarrassed—could not quite seem to get the necessary words out.

William instantly understood. “No.” He drew her closer. “You mustn’t think that. Never think that. Damn it, Lucy, couldn’t you tell that I was enjoying it? Rest assured that I did, very much.”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Nice? I don’t believe that’s how I’d define the comment I made to you earlier. It was most unkind, and I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way as a result.”

She glanced in his direction before returning her attention to some far-off point in the distance. “Thank you,” she said. “It was rather unexpected considering what a wonderful time we shared last night.”

“I just didn’t want any of my friends to look at you the way I knew they would when they saw you in that gown. You look lovely in it,” he hastily added. “But it’s also rather revealing, and, well, to be perfectly honest, I would prefer that if you decide to wear it again in the future you do so for my benefit alone.”

She drew a deep breath. “It was entirely with you in mind that I put it on,” she admitted. “I was hoping that you might approve.”

What the devil?
Was she trying to seduce him then? It certainly sounded as if she’d just declared herself ready to entertain his desires. He couldn’t help but smile at the notion. Perhaps they’d sojourn in bed more quickly than he’d anticipated. “I can’t deny that I do. For in truth, you look ravishing,” he told her. He was anxious now to make her understand his reasoning. “What worries me is that when your neckline becomes so dangerously low other men have no choice but to let their minds wander. Do you understand?”

She nodded faintly beside him. “I’m terribly sorry, William. I hadn’t considered it. You must think me quite gauche.”

“Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think you’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”

She responded with a warm smile, the sort he’d been longing for, and he felt his heart swell. But then she frowned and asked, “Why is it that you don’t despise me, William? Most men in your situation would, and yet here you are not only complimenting me but also being so undeniably kind.”

He knew she had a point. He knew that most men of his acquaintance would very likely have put her six feet under by now. However, he’d always considered himself to be far more reasonable and level headed than most, and, considering that he’d meant to marry somebody anyway and hadn’t been in love with Lady Annabelle, it no longer made much difference to him who his wife was as long as she was pleasant, intelligent, and appealing enough to attract his attention.

Lucy certainly seemed to fit all of those qualifications rather nicely, more nicely than Lady Annabelle ever would have done, because as it happened, Lady Annabelle was precisely the sort of typical socialite he’d given a wide berth for so long. She’d merely been a little less vexing on the ears than the rest.

Lucy, on the other hand . . . the edge of his mouth slipped upward into a helpless smile. She was far from ordinary. “Upon reflection, I’ve decided that you might not be so bad after all. You didn’t steal me away from a woman I was in love with. In fact, if I recall, you made a point of ensuring that you wouldn’t be doing so. No hearts were broken as a consequence of your actions and, in truth, you’re beginning to grow on me a little.”

A pained expression flickered behind her eyes. “And yet you know it’s not that simple, William. You know that for me marrying you had a purpose.” She took a deep breath and then expelled it. “You’re honorable to a fault, and I . . . to be perfectly honest, I don’t believe that I deserve you.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, halting, he turned to look her straight in the eye. “I don’t suppose that you’d be willing to share your reasoning with me? As it is, I suspect that it must concern a matter of great importance. You told me that you needed my help, but how am I to help you if you won’t trust me? You’re my wife, Lucy, and come what may, I’ll stand by your side—of that you have my word, as a gentleman.”

In spite of her qualms, Lucy had, after much reflection, decided that it would probably be best to tell him everything—to let him in and share her troubled past with him, no matter how difficult it would be for her to do so.

Her husband had made it clear to her that he valued the truth. What better way for her to make a real attempt at narrowing the distance between them than to be completely honest? She steeled herself for a moment. He had told her that he would stand by her, but he had done so blindly, and while she did not doubt that he would keep his word, there was still a very real possibility that he would not only be furious with her but that he might also demand an annulment on the basis of fraud once the truth was out. It was a chance she would have to take. “Very well,” she conceded, “but you must promise not to tell another soul.”

He placed his hand over his heart. “You have my word on it.”

“Swear it,” she insisted, “as a gentleman.”

“I swear to you on my honor, Lucy, that whatever you are about to tell me shall follow me to the grave.”

She nodded, satisfied with the knowledge that he would keep silent, and recommenced walking while he followed, keeping pace. “Lady Ridgewood has been my guardian for the past six years. I came to her rather unexpectedly after my parents…” She drew a deep breath as the memories were once again released from where she usually kept them hidden in the deepest recesses of her mind. “I’m not who you think I am, William. My real name isn’t Lucy Blackwell. It’s Lucy Etheredge.” Turning her head to look at him, she noticed the look of surprise on his face. It was swiftly followed by one of puzzlement.

“Why does that name sound so familiar?”