Leo held Tessa against his side and idly stroked her arm. She’d been distracted when he first entered her bedchamber, and it took all his formidable skill to turn her attention to him. Once she’d succumbed to his charms, he ravaged her well and thoroughly. His heart was still pounding with his exertions and he was fighting to draw in breath. No other woman had ever affected him as she did. His joy in her encompassed more than what transpired in the bed. He enjoyed every moment of every day that he was in her presence.
“You’re being melodramatic,” he said quietly.
“Did you not notice the manner in which he gazed upon her? I think he has already well and truly fallen. I know what it is—the soul-wrenching pain of it—to love someone you can never have.”
So did he, but he wasn’t going to batter her with it. Nothing was to be gained except to make them both miserable.
“What if she is all he ever wants? He must marry,” she said.
“Why?”
She rose up on an elbow, and he ignored the way it dug into his chest. Instead he combed his fingers through her thick, luxurious hair. Only a few short moments ago it had served as a curtain to close them in.
“He must have an heir,” she said as though he had experienced a complete leaving of his senses.
“Why?”
“Leo!” She tapped her slender finger on his chin. “You are well aware of how primogeniture works. He must have a male heir to inherit his titles and lands.”
“If not, everything would fall to a cousin. What does it matter?”
“It matters. I want him to be happy.”
He cradled her face, forced her to meet his gaze. “You cannot make his happiness for him, my love. He is a grown man now. He’ll make his own way.”
“But he loves her, and she does not love him.”
“She is here for holiday. Make no more of it than that.” Even though more was apparently happening. He hadn’t told her that he’d crossed paths with Ainsley in the hallway. The knowledge would only add to her worries. He held her still, raised his shoulders from the bed and took her mouth. After ten years, he thought the pleasure of kissing her should have worn off, but it still took his breath, made his heart race and his palms itch to caress every inch of her. He’d had many women before her, but not a single one after her. She was all he wanted, all he desired.
It took everything within him not to ask her once more to marry him. It had nearly devastated him the last time he asked and she refused. It had been two years ago, and he’d been so certain she’d accept his offer of marriage. Instead she’d persisted with her arguments that he was too young, would one day want children, should marry someone closer to his age, as though when he let his arrow fly, Cupid gave one whit regarding the number of years a person had accumulated. Leo had decided then that he’d not ask again—but neither could he leave her. If she wanted to be rid of him, she would have to be the one to turn her back on what they shared and walk away.
As she released that gentle purring in her throat that always initiated a corresponding low growl in his, he rolled her over so he might have his fill of her once again. He was greedy where she was concerned, but he experienced no guilt over it. He suspected that very soon nights would arrive when he would be deprived her solace, her body, her presence. Until that time, he would be a glutton and make her glad of it.
And wonder how it was that she could be so attuned to her sons’ hearts and not to his.
A
insley awoke the moment the rain stopped. It was the sudden silence that disturbed his slumber. He’d slipped from Jayne’s bed as she was drifting off to sleep. He’d wanted nothing more than to remain and watch her ease into slumber, but she’d been fighting to stay awake as though their actually
sleeping
in the same bed was more sinful than what they were doing before she grew so drowsy.
He rose with the sun and dressed. He didn’t mean to be a bad host, but he was anxious for his latest company to depart. When only Leo strolled into the breakfast dining room, Ainsley feared his guests might be considering staying for another night.
“Is my mother awake?” he asked.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Leo said laconically as he strolled to the sideboard.
“My apologies, Leo. Good morning to you. I hope you slept well.”
“Hardly at all.”
The answer didn’t please him. It was one thing to see the man sneaking into his mother’s bedchamber, another to have their affair tossed in his face. Before he had a chance to contemplate the possible ramifications of his actions, Ainsley was up out of his chair and standing beside Leo. “What are your intentions where my mother is concerned?”
Leo flicked his head, causing the blond curls falling over his forehead to monetarily fly back before returning to where they were before. “More honorable than hers toward me. I’d marry her this afternoon if she’d have me.”
“Have you asked her?”
“Too many times to count.” He took his plate laden with food to the table and sat.
The man had no respect for Ainsley’s position in society. It was one of the reasons he liked him. Leo wasn’t easily intimidated. Ainsley returned to his chair and began slicing his ham. “She can be stubborn.”
“She thinks our age difference should be a consideration.”
“How much younger are you?” He knew the man was younger but had never given it much thought.
“Fifteen years.”
“You’re only slightly older than Westcliffe.”
“I was born not too long after she married his father.”
Ainsley studied him. “The difference in your ages doesn’t matter to you?”
“Not one whit.”
“Do you love her?”
“My heart is not a topic I care to discuss.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think she’s a fool not to let you make an honest woman of her.”
Leo grinned. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m certain she wouldn’t appreciate your sentiment, but I do.” His smile faltered and he poked at his buttered eggs before returning his gaze to Ainsley’s. “And what of you? I suspect it is a well-traveled path you were taking last night.”
“I will not discuss Jayne.”
“Do you love her?”
Setting down his knife, Ainsley narrowed his eyes. “I could have sworn you spoke English, man. Did I mumble my words? She is not a topic for discussion.”
“It’s a pity we’re not staying longer. I should think you’d like a portrait.”
He knew Leo wasn’t referring to a portrait of Ainsley, but rather, one of Jayne. What would he do with it? Store it in the attic? Take it out to gaze at on melancholy days? Although what would be the harm in hanging it here? He never entertained at the cottage. No one visited—except for his meddling mother and her meddling lover.
After spending time with Jayne here, he wasn’t certain he’d ever bring his wife or children here. This cottage was quickly becoming a special place. He wasn’t even certain he’d ever return, although neither could he see himself selling it.
“Perhaps when she returns home, you could offer your services. I’m sure she and Walfort would appreciate having an artist of your caliber working on a portrait.”
Leo gave a brusque nod. “I shall see to it. In the spring, perhaps, when roads are easier to travel.”
“Keep me informed. I may wish to send a missive”—a private one—“along with you.”
“Of course. Ah!” Leo rose. “Sunshine has arrived.”
Initially, Ainsley thought he was speaking of the sun peering through the clouds, but then his mother strolled into the room. Leo greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Sit. I’ll prepare your plate.” He guided her into a chair beside Ainsley before wandering back to the sideboard.
“He spoils you,” Ainsley murmured.
“I’m most fortunate. And before you annoy me with your next observation—‘you should marry him’—he is still young and I am rapidly growing old. It will not be much longer before he tires of me.”
“I daresay, you misjudge your appeal.”
Reaching out, she squeezed his hand where it rested beside his plate. “You were always the kindest of my sons, the one with the gentlest heart. Westcliffe was harsh because I gave him so little affection. It pains me now to admit it, but it is the truth. I could say I was a child myself when I gave birth to him, but that is no excuse. He also had a hard time of it because his father left him little beyond the title and he was dependent upon your generosity. Stephen resented that he wouldn’t inherit a title or property and he rebelled by reveling in naughtiness. And I spoiled him beyond measure. In my eyes, he could do no wrong. You, on the other hand, had a prestigious title, wealth, and a good portion of your mother’s love. You have always strived to be the brother they looked up to. And you have always done all in your power to protect each of us.”
“Well, I did a bang-up job when it came to Walfort, didn’t I?”
She cut a sharp glance his way as Leo set her plate before her and resumed his seat. “I have never understood how he could have come away from the accident so irreparably broken while you”—she slid her thumb over the scar on his chin—“were almost unscathed.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far.”
“You’re like Stephen when he returned from the Crimea. His emotional wounds were far worse than the physical ones. Thank God for Mercy, I say. She put him back to rights.” She held his gaze. “Who shall do that for you?”
He was spared from answering as Jayne strolled into the room. He considered extending to her the courtesy Leo had extended his mother—preparing her plate—but he had to give the impression that she was no more than a guest.
Leo, however, had no such qualms or restrictions. He popped out of his chair as though someone had pinched his bottom and approached her. “Good morning, lovely lady. Have a seat and I shall prepare a plate for you.”
“No need. I can see to it.”
“Surely you will not deny me the pleasure it will bring me by doing such a small favor for you.” Taking her arm, he guided her into a chair.
Jayne appeared flummoxed as her gaze darted from Ainsley to his mother. “He’s quite charming.”
“Yes,” his mother said succinctly, causing Ainsley to slide his gaze to her.
He’d assumed Leo had given Jayne the attention to irritate him, to perhaps steer him toward some sort of action—it had certainly pricked his temper, and if he were honest, ignited a spark of jealousy. But he recognized now that it was his mother Leo had been prodding by his attentions to Jayne. “Well, he’s not your husband,” Ainsley murmured.
He was surprised the scalding glare his mother gave him didn’t ignite him. “Leo is always attentive to all ladies. It is part of his charm.”
“But I always save the best for you,” Leo said smoothly as he placed Jayne’s plate before her. He winked at the duchess and effectively defused her anger or jealousy or whatever the hell it was she’d been expressing.
They read each other so well. Ainsley tried not to ponder how much he yearned for a similar closeness with a woman. He’d never given much thought to the matter of marriage, assuming he’d address the situation when he was ready to produce an heir. He entertained women, they entertained him. He was seldom without company. And yet he was suddenly aware that something powerful and possibly magnificent was missing from his life. Was his reason for being here with Jayne not completely unselfish? He couldn’t deny that she filled a void that until recently he’d not even known existed.
His life would be all the more lonely when she left. Perhaps it was time he began to search for a wife. But even that did not seem enough. What he desperately longed for was a love. Such as that shared by Leo and his mother.
He was grateful his mother behaved during the meal. She didn’t pepper Jayne with questions or ask her opinion regarding whom he should wed. They spoke of the upcoming Season and how perhaps Jayne and Walfort would finally return to London. He wasn’t certain how he would endure it—seeing her there, knowing their paths would cross constantly. Would it be a blessing or a curse? Yet neither could he envision never again seeing her.
It was a relief when they all finished breakfast and his mother announced that it was time she and Leo were off.
They stood on the front lawn, saying their good-byes.
“I’ll send word on how Lady Lynnford is progressing,” his mother said.
“Give her my love.” With Lynnford serving as Ainsley’s guardian, Lady Lynnford had been as a second mother to him. She was the gentlest soul he’d ever known. He hated that she was suffering.
His mother wound her arms around him, hugging him tightly and whispering low near his ear, “Please take care. I fear you’re treading on dangerous ground here.”
When she pulled back, he gave her a reassuring grin. “I am ever careful.”
Lovingly, she patted his cheek before moving on to hug Jayne. “It was lovely to see you, my dear. We must keep in touch.”
He recognized the signs of Jayne struggling for a response, weighing the awkwardness of a future encounter against the guilt she’d expressed last night. Finally, she simply bobbed her head. “Yes, that would be lovely.”
As the carriage drove away, Ainsley leaned toward Jayne and said, “Lovely as hell.”
She jerked back. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Keeping in touch with my mother. She’s meddling, you know.”
“Do you think she knows my true purpose in being here?”
“Not in her wildest imagination would she draw that conclusion.”
“I rather like Leo. I do believe he loves your mother.”
Last night she’d only mentioned his mother’s love of Leo. “I’ve no doubt you’re correct.” He skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “What would you like to do today?”
“What I do anytime I’ve ever entertained and the guests have left. Absolutely nothing.”
J
ayne borrowed one of the books from Ainsley’s library and retreated to her bedchamber. Reclining on the longue near a window, she read for a while. Five minutes to be exact. She rose, walked to the secretary, and sat to pen a letter to Walfort, to let him know she was well. After dipping pen in inkwell, she determined that was an awful idea and would no doubt plague him with the reminder that his wife was with another man.
She walked to the window, leaned on the sill and gazed out for a full two minutes. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ainsley wandering away from the house. He did love his outdoors. She was surprised by the joy that rippled through her at the sight of him, then decided it was nothing more than a response to being bored. He served as a distraction.
She opened the window and leaned out as far as she was able without losing her balance and toppling to the ground. “Ainsley!”
He spun around. An emotion she didn’t recognize ratcheted around her heart, making it difficult to draw in a breath. Still she managed to call out, “Will you wait up for me?”
Even from her precarious perch she could see his broad smile as he yelled, “As long as it takes!”
She released a burst of laughter. “I’ll hurry!”
Withdrawing back inside, she closed her window and pressed her forehead to the cool glass. She shouldn’t be anticipating joining him as much as she was. It was wrong. Yet at that particular moment nothing had ever felt so incredibly right.
She didn’t bother with a hat. She simply grabbed her pelisse, draped it around her shoulders and rushed out. He was waiting exactly where he’d stopped when she called out to him. She didn’t know why it pleased her so much. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere in particular. I just felt the need to stretch my legs.”
Before Walfort’s accident, she’d loved walking, trudging through forests, over the land. Afterward she felt guilty anytime she partook of an activity that now eluded him. But she didn’t have to feel guilty here. Ainsley could easily outdistance her. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“I was hoping you would. I’ve wandered in sight of your window at least a dozen times now.”
She laughed lightly, filled with a joyous ebullience. “You’re teasing.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you knock on my door and ask?”
“I had the sense you wanted to be alone for a bit.”
She shook her head. “I thought I did. I was wrong.”
“Well, then.” He extended his arm and she wrapped hers around it. “Let’s see what adventure awaits, shall we?”
They strolled along in silence for several moments before she dared to ask, “So what other secrets do you hold?”