Twelve
Victoria felt . . . what?
Alive, certainly.
Fulfilled.
Utterly safe.
And oddly smug.
Lying in the circle of Claredon’s arms, Victoria snuggled close to his warmth. She had expected to enjoy the pleasure of her husband’s possession. Despite her refusal to give in to temptation, she had known deep within her that she desired Claredon. And the mere fact that she had far too often dreamed of this precise moment revealed her inner wish to discover the full wonder of his lovemaking.
What she hadn’t expected was the sheer intensity of the sensations that had rushed through her, or the ready manner in which Claredon revealed his own potent need. More than once, he had lost his famed expertise and fumbled in haste, making her feel beautiful and sinfully sensuous. She had opened herself, making herself wholly vulnerable, but the knowledge that Claredon had done the same gave her a sense of power she had never thought to experience.
A shiver raced through her as Claredon stroked his lips over the tender skin of her temple. “This was not how I intended this to be,” he murmured with rueful humor.
Feeling more confident than she had in her entire life, Victoria turned her head to meet his narrowed gaze. “You have regrets?”
His arms abruptly tightened about her slender form. “Dear lord, no. How could I regret the most precious thing that has ever occurred in my life? But I had thought to make our first time together somewhat more romantic.”
Victoria was utterly glad that it had not been a planned seduction. The swift, uncontrollable passion that had spiraled between them had been far more exciting, more genuine than a practiced assault upon her senses. “I suppose there is something rather romantic about a hidden cottage,” she assured him.
He gave a rather wicked smile. “I will admit that it is far more romantic now than it was as a child. Pretending to be a pirate or a knight was never so pleasurable.”
Breathing in deeply of the warm male scent of him, she smiled archly. “Of course, you did rather deceive me.”
Without warning he stiffened, as if fearing that she were about to accuse him of something dreadful. “Indeed?”
“You said that you never seduced women here,” she reminded him softly.
He breathed out a soft sigh, his hand running down the length of her back. “Never before today, and I do not care for the word seduced,” he chastised. “It implies I stole from you what you were not entirely willing to give.”
Her skin tingled at the warmth of his fingers traced a delicate pattern over the curve of her hip. “You know that is not true,” she said with a faint blush.
“I sincerely hope it is not.” He shifted so that he could lean upon his elbow and gaze into her face with a suddenly somber expression. “You asked if I had regrets. Now I ask you the same.”
Although still shy at discussing what had just occurred between them, Victoria resisted the urge to give a flippant response. She sensed that her answer was important to Claredon. “No,” she said simply.
“Thank God.” His eyes briefly closed before he opened them to smile deep into her gaze. Obviously her answer was even more important than she had suspected. “I do not think I could bear . . . gads, Victoria, you make me feel as uncertain as a schoolboy.”
She regarded him in shock. Could this be the arrogant, consummate master of women she had wed? Suddenly he seemed as bewildered by the emotions that had surged between them as she was. It was as endearing as it was unexpected, and Victoria’s heart glowed with a perilous joy.
“You?” she at last forced herself to tease in light tones, not entirely certain she wished to feel so dangerously entangled with this man.
His lips twitched at her exaggerated shock. “Do you find that amusing, my minx?”
“I find it unbelievable,” she retorted in all honesty. “You are far too arrogant and assured of your own charms to ever feel uncertain.”
He gave a slow shake of his head, his hand pulling her abruptly against his body. “Only when it did not matter,” he said in dark tones. “And this does matter, Victoria. It matters a great deal.”
The very world seemed to halt as she gazed into his darkened blue eyes. It was important, she suddenly realized. Perhaps the most important thing in her entire life.
“Yes,” she breathed.
For long moments they gazed at one another, both searching for the unspoken questions that still lay between them. Where did they go from here? How had their relationship changed? Had the regret and anger that had marred their marriage been at long last laid to rest?
At last, a cloud scuttling across the sun, leaving the late afternoon in shadows, prompted Claredon to give a faint sigh. “As much as I would like to remain here an eternity, I suppose we should consider inspecting the land and returning home. I would not wish Mr. Humbly to worry over our absence.”
He was right, of course. The poor vicar had been fretting and worrying over them since Mr. Smith had first made his appearance. She would not wish him to become concerned.
Still, she discovered herself reluctant to rise. However absurd it might be after what had just passed between them, she could not blithely parade about naked before Claredon.
“I . . .”
Her husband frowned at her hesitation. “What is it, Victoria?”
Feeling every sort of a fool, she pressed her heated face into his shoulder. “Would you turn your back while I attire myself?”
“What?” he demanded in surprise.
“I know it is ridiculous, but . . .”
“No,” he abruptly interrupted, reaching up to cup her chin and force her to meet his tender gaze. “You are bound to be shy for a time. Just hold on a moment.” With the elegant grace that was so much a part of him, Claredon rose to his feet. Then, with swift movements, he gathered the Holland cover from the floor and held it up like a curtain between them. “Now you can have your privacy.”
Deeply relieved that he had not mocked her childish embarrassment, Victoria reached for the garments that had been scattered across the floor. In moments she had managed to slip on her shift and stockings, but after pulling on her habit, she reluctantly realized there was no possibility of reaching the hooks and buttons that fastened the garment in the back.
“Blast,” she muttered in exasperation. She had not considered the realization she would need a maid to help her after such an interlude. How did other women manage?
“Is there a problem?” he asked in faintly amused tones.
She bit her lip, knowing that she had no choice but to confess her dilemma. “I cannot button my habit.”
Without warning, the Holland cover dropped to the floor, and he regarded her with a wicked smile.
“Ah, that is because it is a task for your husband. Allow me.”
Unlike her, Claredon did not appear to possess the least shred of modesty as he stepped toward her. Smothering a nervous giggle, she abruptly turned so he could reach the buttons.
With considerably more skill than he had exhibited in removing her habit, Claredon set about refastening the hooks and tiny buttons. He had managed to reach the middle of her back when, without warning, he abruptly leaned downward to press warm lips to her bare skin.
Victoria gave a violent jump at the shocking pleasure that raced through her. “Claredon,” she protested in uneven tones, “you are supposed to be fastening the buttons.”
He gave a low groan. “I have discovered I far prefer undoing them.”
Much to her astonishment, Victoria could feel the tempting heat begin to swirl through her lower stomach once again. She had not dreamed that a woman could experience desire so rapidly.
“You said that we must go,” she said, more to keep herself from melting to her knees than from any true urge to leave their private cottage.
“Perhaps I spoke too hastily,” he murmured, his lips tracing a silky path up her spine to the base of her neck. “If Mr. Humbly is visiting the rector, then it might be several hours before he misses us.”
Against her will, Victoria’s head fell backward as the persuasive delight of his caress sizzled to the very tip of her toes. She felt nearly overwhelmed by the force of her need, and more than a little frightened. It had been difficult enough to remain impervious to his charm before she had allowed such intimacies. How could she possibly resist now? “I think it best we return,” she muttered cowardly.
“The voice of reason,” he sighed, allowing himself one last kiss before finishing his task. She heard a rustle as he gathered his own clothes and set about restoring his usual elegance. “You can turn about now. I am decent.”
Slowly turning, she discovered him slipping on his jacket and smoothing the thick curls from his face. He looked unbearably handsome, even when he gave a rueful grimace at his crumpled cravat and tossed it onto the sofa. His arrogant features were softened and almost boyish as he held out an arm to lead her from the cottage.
With a tiny thrill at the knowledge this wonderful, enticing gentleman was truly her husband now, Victoria readily stepped forward to lay her hand upon his offered arm. Together they stepped into the sunshine, pulling the door closed behind them. She moved toward the waiting ladder, only to be halted as Claredon suddenly grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“What is it?” she demanded as he simply gazed at her with a searching gaze.
“I did not . . . hurt you?”
It took a moment for her to realize he was referring to the loss of her innocence. A revealing warmth rose beneath her cheeks. “I am fine,” she assured him.
“You must tell me if you are sore, or in any way discomforted. I would never wish to cause you pain,” he persisted, somehow knowing that she was indeed tender from their intimacy. “You promise me?”
It had been far too long since anyone had shown such unwavering concern for her welfare. Victoria felt ridiculous tears prick at her eyes. It was rather a wonderful thing to have someone care for her. “Yes.”
He smiled tenderly, brushing one of her stray curls from her cheek. “Are you ready?”
“Certainly.”
“Have a care,” he warned as he held the ladder steady and watched her make her way to the ground. He was swift to follow behind, placing her hand back on his arm as he turned her toward the pathway.
“What of the ladder?” she demanded as they moved through the undergrowth.
He smiled as he tugged her closer. “I believe I shall leave it down. I possess great hopes you shall wish to return in the very near future.”
* * *
With a stealth that would have made the finest criminal proud, Claredon slipped through the still sleeping household and into his wife’s bedchamber. A thoroughly ridiculous smile curved his lips as he moved across the carpet toward the large canopy bed.
It had been only a few hours since he had covertly slipped from this room after making slow, delicious love to Victoria. He had wanted nothing more than to remain wrapped in her arms through the rest of the night, but he had sensed her innocent embarrassment at the thought of having the servants discover him in her bed.
He could not deny a small part of him rued her shyness. He wanted to shout to the world that this amazing woman was now his in the most intimate way possible. He wanted to claim her in the possessive manner of any male. And yet, he found her innocence enchanting.
He was a gentleman accustomed to experienced women who sought their pleasure with practiced ease, women who desired his company for one purpose only. In contrast, Victoria had been awkward, untutored, and utterly delightful. Her responses had not come from skill, but from the heart.
She was not a woman who could ever separate the two.
That knowledge had sent a chill of fear down his spine. It would be bad enough to disappoint a lover. To disappoint the woman who had reluctantly offered him a piece of her heart would be unbearable. Then he had gathered his wits.
He would not disappoint Victoria. He would do everything possible to be the husband she desired.
With that thought firmly in mind, he had left his bed at an ungodly hour to make his way to the conservatory, and now was slipping into his wife’s bedroom like a lovesick moonling.
Perching upon the edge of the bed, he allowed himself a moment to study her in early morning light.
A smile curved his lips at the splash of vibrant red curls artlessly spread across the pillow and the thick black crescent of her lashes, which lay against her cheek. She looked as fragile and untouched as the newly bloomed rose he held in his fingers.
Leaning forward, he lightly brushed the flower beneath her nose. The potent musk filled the air, and with a small sigh she rolled onto her back. With a low chuckle, he once again waved the satin petals beneath her nose and watched as her lashes fluttered upward.
“Good morning, my dear,” he whispered.
Her emerald eyes were still clouded with lingering sleep as she regarded him with a faint frown. “Claredon?”
With a flourish, he held out the rose for her. “A present for you.”
Her breath caught as she reached out to take the proffered flower with understanding. “A rose.”
“I wished to prove that I can be as romantic as the next gentleman upon occasion.”
Pushing herself to a sitting position, she demurely kept the covers about her slender frame as she offered him a tentative smile. “That is very kind.”
His own smile was wicked. “No, it is very selfish.”
“Selfish?”
“I desired an excuse to visit my wife at this unreasonable hour,” he said, delighted when she raised a flustered hand to her tangle of curls.
“I cannot think why. I must be a mess.”
He gave a slow shake of his head. Even with her hair mussed and her countenance flushed with sleep, he had never seen a more achingly beautiful sight. “You are adorable, as you always are,” he assured her.
A sudden twinkle of amusement entered her emerald eyes. “That is a bald-faced lie, sir.”
Quite willing to prove how adorable he found her to be, he leaned forward. “Shall I demonstrate just how adorable I find you, my minx?”
She sank into the pillows with a shy hint of excitement glowing in her eyes. “Claredon, my maid will be here soon.”
He reached out to softly outline her lips with the tip of his finger. A wave of satisfaction raced through him as they readily parted at his touch. “We could always lock the door.”
Sweet anticipation rippled over her features, warming his heart and other places in his body before she glanced anxiously toward the door. He could imagine her picturing the knowing glint in her maid’s eyes when she came with the morning chocolate only to find the door locked against her.
“I . . .” she began, only to be silenced as he gently pressed his fingers to her mouth.
“No, you are not yet comfortable.”
She smiled with relief at his understanding. “I suppose you think I am being childish.”
His expression became somber as he regarded the woman who had become such a vital part of his life. “Victoria, this is all very new to you, and I happen to find your shyness quite enchanting. I wish only to please you. I want you to be happy in this marriage.”
She absorbed his words in silence. Then she regarded him with a searching gaze. “And what do you want, Claredon?”
He raised startled brows at her unexpected question. “Besides you?”
She blushed. “Yes.”
Claredon gave himself time to ponder the question. He had spent five months saying precisely the wrong thing to this woman. For once he wanted to get it right. “You know, for a very long time I thought I desired an impossible fantasy. A woman who could not possibly exist.”
Her eyes darkened with regret. “And now you will never discover her.”
He gave a shake of his head, his finger moving beneath her chin to keep her gaze firmly entangled with her own. “I had already discovered her,” he said in firm tones. “Only I was too blind and too angry at being forced into marriage to realize the truth.”
Her expression became wary, as if she feared that he might be mocking her. “You have discovered her?”
“Oh, yes.” He smiled with warm tenderness. “And she is everything I have ever hoped she would be. Intelligent, beautiful, tender of heart, yet with an independent spirit. And best of all, she possesses the most amazing ability to please her husband.”
“I thought I was a sharp-tongued shrew,” she retorted in uncertain tones.
Claredon gave a rich chuckle, his entire being filled with a shimmering happiness. He could not name this strange, unfathomable emotion that made his head dizzy and his heart swell with joy, but he was not about to fight it. “Only when you feel the need to protect yourself. Just as I attempted to provoke you to keep a distance between us.”
A fragile glow of hope entered her emerald eyes as she searched his relaxed countenance. “We were both rather foolish.”
He gave a faint shrug, no longer willing to dwell upon the past. It was his future with this woman that he wished to consider. “Yes, but perhaps we needed time to become accustomed to our situation. It would have been impossible to have been thrown into marriage without a few misunderstandings.”
“Yes,” she slowly agreed.
His hand moved to stroke the tempting line of her neck, and he was amazed, as always, by the perfect silk of her skin. “The wait certainly wetted my appetite,” he murmured with a meaningful smile.
She gave a breathy laugh, her eyes suddenly dark with the delicious knowledge of her power over him. “You are shameless,” she chided, but her voice held no sting.
“Only with you, Victoria.” He gazed deep into those bewitching eyes. “I meant what I said. You are my wife, and I will be faithful to you.”
Her gaze did not waver as she reached out to lightly touch his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “I trust you.”
They were the most beautiful words he had ever heard, and it took every shred of willpower he possessed not to cover her with his body and prove to her just how deeply she had moved him.
“You are certain you would not like to lock the door?” he said in a rasping voice.
She briefly wavered as a shiver shook her body, but she gave a faint shake of her head. “Not yet.”
“Very well,” he agreed without rancor. Someday she would be ready to forget the world for the pleasure of love. He could be patient. “What will you do today?”
She gave a reluctant grimace. “I suppose I should be a proper hostess, since we abandoned our guest yesterday.”
Claredon grimly refused to allow any thought of Thomas Stice to mar his goodwill. Victoria had already admitted that she had never loved the fool. And if she still cared for him as a friend, he was surely a big enough man to accept their relationship.
Well, perhaps not accept, he ruefully acknowledged. He still longed to blacken the nitwit’s eye and toss him from the estate. But he was at least wise enough not to reveal his utterly male desire to keep his woman from the company of another gentleman. “Very proper,” he managed to murmur in reasonably neutral tones.
“And what of you?” she demanded.
“I believe I shall call upon Lord Vernon and make an offer for his land,” Claredon abruptly decided, knowing better than to press his dubious control by watching Mr. Stice cling to his wife in his cowardly fashion. “If we have more than one son, we shall need estates to leave to them.”
Her eyes widened at his casual reference to their future children. Then a fiercely pleased glow entered her eyes. It was obvious she had not considered the thought of the inevitable conclusion to their new intimacy. Thankfully, the thought seemed to please her rather than shock her.
“What if we have only daughters?” she teased.
He shrugged, not at all put out by the thought. He had enough cousins to ensure the line would continue whatever the sex of his children. “Then the land we purchase will remain unentailed so they can inherit. I do not doubt our daughters will be just as capable as their mother of running an estate.”
He had hoped to reassure her with his determined words, but without warning, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Oh.”
Horrified at the thought of unintentionally wounding her, Claredon scooted close to her and cupped her face between his hands. “Dear heavens, what is it, Victoria?”
Gazing at him with tear-drenched eyes, she gave a small hiccup. “I believe that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”
Amazement battled with surging relief as he gave a choked laugh. Gads, but she had frightened him. He did not ever want to see her cry. “Oh, my dear, only you would be more pleased to be admired for your management skills than to be likened to an angel,” he said ruefully.
Blithely unaware that she had momentarily terrified him she sent him, a stern frown. “You will not go to Lord Vernon’s alone?” she commanded.
“No, I will take Peter with me,” he readily agreed, not about to take chances with his life now that he had so much to live for.
“And you will not take foolish risks?” she persisted.
Leaning down, he feathered a kiss over her tempting lips. “I promise you nothing will keep me from your bed tonight,” he husked. With a great deal of reluctance, he rose to his feet. Blast, but he wanted to stay—for an eternity. “Now I suppose I should go before that wretched maid makes her appearance. Until later, my love.”
Her smile held all the promise of paradise. “Until later. ”