The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (23 page)

Drawn like a sailor to a siren, he bowed his head and lowered his mouth over hers. Her response was immediate and intense—her arms snaking their way around his neck, drawing him closer while her lips parted to allow him entrance. He was quick to react, and as his hands slipped over her shoulders and down her back, pushing at her buttocks to force her hips forward, his tongue drove into her mouth to stroke against hers. He could feel her fingers raking through his hair, speaking of the same growing restlessness that had started to consume him too, and it excited him to no end.

Nipping her lower lip gently between his teeth, he removed his mouth, kissing his way along her jawline instead, and as he licked the lobe of her ear he rocked toward her, eliciting a soft murmur from the back of her throat. With one hand rising to her breast, he toyed with her nipple, tugging and squeezing it, while his other hand drifted down between her buttocks to stroke her from behind. She arched her back in response, straining against the touch of his fingers, and in doing so, she brought her breasts higher, offering them for him to devour. And devour he did—his tongue lapping at the moist surface of her skin, circling its hardened center as she begged him for so much more. “Soon,” he muttered, the words muffled against her chest, “very soon.”

He was a man of experience, and as much as he wished it, he knew that entering her out here in the middle of the lake would be a difficult feat to accomplish, not to mention uncomfortable, awkward, and perhaps even unsafe. No, for them to make love properly, they would have to return to dry land, but he feared that doing so would dampen the mood somehow, for there was no denying that both he and his wife had reached the point of arousal where all inhibition and sense of propriety had been mercilessly stripped away. He’d no desire to lose that now. Instead, he reached for her hand and brought it down between them, licking his way up toward her neck and back along her jawline as he placed it over his straining flesh.

“Touch me, Lucy.” His words were a low, suggestive whisper in her ear. It took a moment for her to respond, but then her delicate fingers wrapped themselves around him, and the crackling embers that poured into his groin sent sparks of energy coursing through his veins. It was all he could do to remain upright, and when she started moving her fingers back and forth, touching him like he’d shown her to do the night before, a loud groan escaped from the depths of his chest.

“Dear God,” he gasped, his fingers harder and faster against the juncture of her thighs. “Tell me you’re close, Lucy…please tell me.”

“Yes,” she said as she spread her legs wider and arched her back further to offer more access. Increasing the movement of her own hand, she forced William to grit his teeth as he held back with all his might; he would not beat her to it…he would stay with her until… “Now,” she rasped, erasing all thought from his mind, “I feel it coming.”

He felt her tremble against him within the next second and finally let himself go—an explosion of static energy so violent that he felt all his muscles strain in response, the loud groan of pleasure he emitted swallowing whatever sounds Lucy might have made.

“You’re much naughtier than you let on,” he told her a short while later as he pressed a kiss against the top of her brow.

“And you, sir, are far more wicked than I would have imagined.” Her voice had a playful edge to it as she spoke, and William knew that if they kept this banter up, they’d easily have another frolic or two before they had to dress and get ready again.

“You’ve no idea,” he told her, beginning to wonder how well she’d fare if she rode him. Remarkably well, he decided, feeling himself begin to stir once more.

“Is that so?” She’d begun striding toward the embankment, but as she spoke, she tossed a tempting smile in his direction.

Lord help him, if she only knew about half of his wild imaginings. They were countless to be sure and would certainly require the lack of any inhibitions on her part—more so than any gentleman could ever expect from a lady. But as he started after her, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that she’d already shown herself to be quite willing, and, as it was, they’d only just begun.

“Y
ou’d better remove that ridiculous grin from your face, Lucy, before we return to the house,” Lady Ridgewood warned a while later when they were all once again seated in the carriage. “It’s quite clear for all to see that the two of you have done far more than eat and chat, which will only make anyone with a pair of eyes in their head deduce that we did not all picnic together, as we tried to make it appear, but rather that we went to great lengths in order to fake a joint outing.”

“A valid point,” William concurred as he turned to regard Lucy. “If the assassin is watching, you will make him wary. Try to frown.”

She did, but her features became contorted instead and did not look the least bit convincing. William could hardly blame her. As it was, he was finding it bloody hard not to look like a lovesick pup after making love to her once more upon the blanket just as he’d envisioned, but, unlike her, he’d trained himself to force whatever expression was needed in a given situation to the surface.

“You’re just making it worse,” Lady Ridgewood said. His father nodded silently at her side.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, biting on her lip as if she thought that might help; it didn’t. “I just…” She covered her mouth with her hand, concealing what William knew to be another smile, for her eyes betrayed her.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lady Ridgewood moaned.

“I dare say you’d best do something fast, William. We’re approaching the driveway,” Bryce said.

“Right.” William turned his attention back to Lucy. “Think of the man we’re about to trap, and what he’s done to you—of what he did to your parents. We mustn’t give our hand away—not now when we’re so close. He can’t know that I’ve won your trust. We must give the impression that you’ve revealed nothing to me. Do you understand?”

He’d seen her smile drop away and her eyes begin to glisten at the mention of her parents, and while he regretted causing her pain, it had to be done. She nodded as the first teardrop spilled from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek. “Good. Now, whatever happens, whatever I say, you must remember that I care about you a great deal, Lucy. You’re my wife, and I’ll do anything to protect you—anything at all.”

He saw the question in her eyes, but there was no time left to explain. They were home again and with numerous eyes upon them as footmen came forward to set down the steps and assist in whatever way possible. Stepping down, he donned his gravest expression before turning to offer Lucy his arm.

“You had an easy time of it,” Andrew said as William stepped into the library after asking Lady Ridgewood to escort Lucy back upstairs. “The rest of us had to play croquet!”

Carefully eyeing the rest of the gentlemen present, William crossed the floor to the side table and poured himself a large brandy. “Sorry I missed it. Who won?”

“Lady Amanda, if you can imagine that,” Charles told him. “She’s not so shy when it comes to taking a good whack at a wooden ball.”

“Hm,” William muttered, frowning. “People aren’t often what they seem to be. Even
you
know that.”

“What the devil’s the matter with you?” Ryan asked. “You were in a pleasant enough mood when you left, but now you seem…irritable somehow.”

Tossing back his brandy, William paused for a moment as he looked back at his friends. “Maybe that’s because things aren’t as wonderful as they seem,” he said bitterly as he turned back to refill his glass.

“What are you talking about?” Stanton asked. “You’ve married a wonderful woman and—”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He laughed then, but there was no joy behind it. “I’ve never encountered a bigger liar or schemer in all my life, and believe me, I’ve encountered a lot.”

Silence settled like a cloud upon them. Everyone stared back at him with shocked expressions.

Galensbury was the first to speak. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You seemed quite…enamored with each other last night when you danced.”

With a heavy sigh, William dropped into the last remaining armchair and passed his hand over his face in agitation. “I see no point in keeping up the pretense. You’re not idiots, any of you. Surely you know as well as I do that she trapped me into marriage! What could possibly be more conniving than that?” Taking a deep breath, he forced his voice back under some measure of control. “She begged me to give her a chance—to forgive her so we might be happy together. Instead she fed me one lie after another.”

“What exactly are you saying?” Trenton asked, looking quite ready to wring the neck of any person who threatened his or his wife’s family.

“I’m saying she’s evasive…She refuses to tell me anything about herself or about her parents. For all I know, she could be a fortune hunter…some poor soul’s by-blow intent on climbing the ranks. I know what she’s not, however; she’s not Lucy Blackwell.” Everyone looked completely taken aback by this new piece of information. He could tell that they held their breaths while they waited for him to continue. He waved the letter the butler had handed him upon his return and forced back a smile. Lucy had been so worried about the assassin discovering that the Foreign Office had become involved, yet it was about to work in their favor—an important piece in their plan of deception. “Word just arrived from Sir Percy, but his guess regarding her identity is as good as mine.” This, of course, was a lie. If Lucy hadn’t revealed her true identity, he would have discovered it from Percy; the man had been quite thorough in his investigation.

“So then her behavior…” Stanton said, “her episode during the ride yesterday?”

William looked across at Charles. “She must have feared that you were on to her. After all, it did happen only the day after you commented on her mother’s pendant.”

“Hardly the sort of jewelry a woman of lowly birth would have in her possession,” Andrew remarked.

“I suppose not,” William concurred, “but maybe she stole it from somebody. You did say that your mother had one just like it, did you not?”

Charles merely frowned as he took a sip of his own brandy.

“Come now, Summersby,” Galensbury said, aiming for a lighthearted tone, which quickly died when he met William’s stare. “Lady Ridgewood was her guardian until the two of you married, after all, and she’s a highly respectable lady. You cannot think that she would have taken in such a child, much less have allowed her to marry an unsuspecting earl.”

“Perhaps not,” William muttered. “I don’t know what to think anymore, but I do know that she cannot be trusted.”

“And I thought my relationship with your sister got off to a rocky start,” Trenton muttered.

“I take it your picnic did not go so well then?” Ryan offered.

William gave him a scowl. “What do you think?”

“And she’s given you no explanation for her elusiveness?” Charles asked.

“None.”

“Well, perhaps she’ll come around, William,” Andrew said, his voice a little gruff. “We all know that the goings on in a woman’s head can be difficult for any man to comprehend. But Lucy’s not stupid by any means, so whatever it is you think she’s keeping from you, I’m sure she has good reason.”

“I hope you’re not defending her,” William growled.

“I certainly am. I tend to judge people based on my own experiences with them, William, and your wife has been nothing but pleasant and hospitable toward me. If anything, she’s suffered your reproachful stares with the grace of a true lady, but just when it seemed that the two of you had put your differences behind you, you—”

“She forced my hand, Andrew.” William’s voice had dropped to a dangerous tone.

“Be grateful that she did,” his friend remarked with startling fierceness for a man who was generally all smiles. “For if she hadn’t, you’d now be married to that wet towel Lady Annabelle.”

“He’s right, you know,” Ryan said. “Lucy does seem like a better match.”

“And as far as I can tell from observation alone,” Andrew added, “she seems frightened more than anything else.”

William glanced around at the rest of his friends, all nodding their agreement with Andrew. It was impossible for him to say which of them was guilty of murder, for whoever it was, he was concealing his true nature exceedingly well. William had hoped that this little pretense of his would offer him a small glimpse of the man he sought, but it had not. That aside, it was still necessary for him to convince his friends that he and Lucy were drifting apart and that she’d revealed nothing. For now, until they put their plan in motion, it was the only thing that he could think of to keep her safe.

“Of course she’s bloody frightened. She’s undoubtedly terrified that I’m going to discover whatever it is she’s so bent on concealing from me.” With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and made for the door. “Think what you will,” he told them, “but I’ve had enough of her games, and as soon as this house party is over, I’m heading back to London without her. My devious wife can go to the devil for all I care.”

D
inner that evening was by no means a pleasant affair. William was all doom and gloom, and whenever anyone asked him a question or attempted to engage him in conversation, his responses were terse.

“Is Lady Summersby still unwell?” Miss Scott suddenly asked, nodding toward Lucy’s vacant seat.

“She seemed all right last night at the ball,” Lady Amanda pointed out in her usual quiet voice.