Chapter Ten
“I usually go outside for some fresh air and activity on a Sunday afternoon. Would you like to join me?” Everett asked when they arrived back at Larksview after morning service.
“What would we be doing?” Grace was headed toward her parlor but slowed her step. She was getting too close to her fake husband, forgetting this was just a bargain and beginning to like him. Today, the weather was a perfect balmy combination of cloud and sun, so her usual reason for turning back because of bad weather would be even less plausible than usual.
“Come with me and find out.”
She could hear his grin, making her hesitate with the urge to know what he was going to do.
Everett must have seen her vacillation and he capitalized on it, striding across the hall to her. He looked like a mischievous boy as he grinned at her and grabbed her hand to pull her to the door, demanding she go with him.
“If we are to go out, I will have to change my dress.” The elegant blue-gray linen was perfect for church, but impractical for being out of doors.
Everett looked at her with affectionate exasperation. “I’ll see you back here in ten minutes. I will have Letty sent up.” As Grace reached the top of the staircase, he called after her. “An old dress would probably be most suitable. Without a bird cage.”
He meant without a crinoline to bulk out the skirt and make it enormous.
Letty hurried into the room as Grace picked out a better dress than she ought. The cotton riding habit in a deep maroon color that only had a few petticoats. It was a striking dress despite the fold-up knee pocket. The vee neckline of the jacket dipped to reveal her collarbones, and the underskirts were slim. She would not examine why she was giving any attention to what she wore.
Everett watched her all the way down the stairs, his gray gaze seeming to eat up the sight of her. She felt her cheeks heat under his observation. He gave a nod of approval when she rejoined him and offered her his hand with a flourish.
Outside, it was a bright August day, with clouds chasing each other across the pale blue sky of summer. Everett led her out and around the house, his arm under her hand, to the side of the lake. There, outside the boathouse, was a small boat. The sail on the boat flapped to and fro, as though it were fidgeting to be off, like a small child.
“It’s clinker built. Very solid.” He indicated the overlapping pieces of wood that made up the side of the boat.
She’d never been on a boat and she didn’t swim well. Her back seemed to constrict. The little craft looked as if it might tip over at any moment. Grace found her voice. “Do you know how to use one of those things?”
The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Of course. What do you think Peter and I did for our whole childhood?” As he said this, his smile faltered for a moment, and Grace recognized the contradictory compulsion to talk about the dead. She could hardly bear to think about her mother, even all these years later.
Everett held out his hand to her in invitation to help her onto the little boat. It was larger than a settee or a bed, but much smaller than a room.
What had made her think of a bed?
There didn’t seem to be enough spaces to sit on without them being rather too close together. And then there was the issue of that great beating sail, jerking around like a captured bird trying to escape. Grace wavered about expressing her reservations. It looked dangerous, and not just because of the boat. But she could be courageous, for the sake of appearing a loving wife, and to keep that mischievous look on Everett’s face.
She took his hand, which was reassuringly warm, and allowed him to support her as she stepped into the boat. It wobbled, and she let out a little involuntary shriek at the unfamiliar movement. The boat tilted and wriggled as she only stood there, trying to catch her off balance. “Everett, I don’t think I’m going to like—”
“Sit on the side,” he instructed.
She looked wildly around for a place to sit and saw only the smooth varnished wood he indicated.
“Yes, there.”
She gingerly lowered herself onto the polished wood, cool and slippery under her fingers. It was like sitting on a mantelpiece, rather than a seat.
He nodded in approval. “Now, there are some things you have to know. When I say duck, you must duck. And sometimes, you will need to move in the boat, or we will go over.”
“Go over?” Her head went light and she swayed with the boat. “You mean turn the boat into the water?”
“Yes, but it is not likely today. There is just a little breeze. Not really enough to capsize.” And with that, he untied a rope and pushed the vessel off into the isolation of the lake.
“Move up toward the bow.” He indicated the direction they were traveling.
There wasn’t much space, but she shuffled herself to the side and Everett settled himself next to her, a little closer than she would have liked. Grace rearranged her skirts, attempting to move them away from his calf and only succeeding in noticing his leg clothed with woolen stockings and shoes with leather tassels. His ankle looked solid and her fingers on her dress wanted to reach the short distance to his leg to grasp it.
“Ah, there we go.” Everett’s voice brought her out of her little reverie. “It is so peaceful out on the water.”
While she had been fussing about her skirts touching her husband, the sail had filled with air, quieting into a smooth curve. They were gliding across the lake, the breeze coming across her back in a comfortable stream and the water glinting in the summer light. That, too, Grace hadn’t noticed. The clouds had parted into little patches of cloud scattered across the intensely blue sky. The lake reflected the sky as a satin white and green. They were gliding through it all as effortlessly as a drifting cloud.
Grace couldn’t stop looking, her heart soaring. She couldn’t believe the sensation of it, like an everlasting swing. They were moving without the harsh jolts of a carriage or the uneven gait of being on horseback. It was the smooth motion of a train on tracks, but instead of the noise and the smell, there was just the wind nudging and flicking at her hair and the tranquility of the sound of the boat cutting through the water. Not only that, it was a perspective on the estate that was like seeing life from the inside of a wineglass, rather than observing the wine from outside. One could walk all around the lake, of course, passing through the trees where you could catch just glimpses of the house, set up from the lake, and onto evenly set grassy areas. From the water, though, everything seemed closer. The woods that were scarcely visible from the house were just there, and somehow the sky itself seemed nearer, reflected in the water that was just sixteen inches below her.
“You are quiet. Should I take you back?”
This was magical. She didn’t want to go back. “Do we have to go back?” Her voice revealed her concern.
“No. But we do have to turn around before we crash into the bank.” He was right. They were gliding toward the grass, the sail full of air that was moving them irrevocably into danger. “I assure you, it is quite safe.”
She was not reassured. How on earth was this vessel to reverse? It was full of air and set on its course.
“I’m going to turn us around, and the sail will come over the boat. Can you move across the boat keeping your head down, when I say?”
She held her breath.
“All right. Lee-oh.”
There was a moment of noise and confusion as the sail came over toward her, and she dove across the boat, head down. But when she looked up, they were gliding back across the lake as smoothly as before. She let out her breath. Maybe it was the wind, or the deep water, but being here was cutting through her tension.
“That was called going about.”
She nodded, gaze flitting around, resting on the water being pushed aside by the boat.
“You know, you can lean out, if you would like. It is rather fun.”
“Really?” She followed his observation up to the sail. He was casually pulling in the rope in his hand.
“Put your feet through the straps on the deck and lean backward. It helps balance the boat.” And indeed, the boat was tilting upward on her side, she saw with concern. Grace looked behind her to the water, now only about two feet away, Cautiously, she pushed her feet underneath the leather strap and pulled at them.
“Go on.”
At his encouragement, she gingerly leaned back, holding the side of boat. The water was close, slipping past her.
“Farther,” he urged her.
“Truly?”
His eyes dared her. “Yes.”
Bracing her feet, Grace extended backward, suspending herself over the water as it rushed past. She was floating above the blue green smoothness of the lake. Flying above the water was freedom. She couldn’t imagine why she had been scared or that anything mattered except for the wind playing with her hair. A laugh of joy erupted from her.
Everett reflected her happiness when she checked up to see him, his mouth just a moment from splitting into a grin. He felt it, too, the euphoria of flying over the lake; they were the same. This small boat had started by feeling cramped, but now it felt as though it was the two them together, in the widest space imaginable. A paradox of closeness and space that made Grace feel as though they were a pair of hedonists.
“We need to turn again. Best come back in.” Her disappointment must have shown, as he added, “Don’t worry, you can hike out, that’s what it’s called, on the other side.”
This time she went farther out more quickly, relishing her flight. She let go with one hand and trailed her fingers in the water. It was silky, coating her fingers with smooth coolness.
She didn’t count the passes they made of the length of the lake. A dozen at least before he asked, “Would you like to try helming the boat?”
“Pardon?” She pulled herself into a sitting position.
“I mean steering.” He indicated the long wooden handle he was holding.
Her grin was back, joined by a flick of nervousness. “Really?”
“Yes.” He slowed the boat and showed her how the rope controlled the sail and the handle turned the boat. The sheet and tiller. His warm hand brushed hers as he gave her the sheet and her heart beat faster. When his hands were gentle as his callused fingers adjusted her grip on the tiller, her heart pounded.
She could feel his gaze on her as she eased the sheet in. It was surprisingly tricky, controlling the two together, but gradually they were passing back and forth in front of the house, Grace gaining confidence in her abilities while Everett reassured her in his deep voice that simultaneously reassured and excited her. He leaned only slightly out of the boat to balance it, advising her to let out the sheet or reassuring her she was doing well. The boat was going faster now and the wind nipped at her hair, trying to loosen her pins.
“The wind is getting a bit stronger,” he said after a while. “Do this last turn and then I ought to take us in.”
Stronger wind? Grace pushed the tiller away gently, not wanting to overset anything, and crossed to the other side. But something odd happened. Instead of filling up on the other side, the sail flapped violently above her head and the boat tilted underneath her.
“Come over here,” he called from above her on the other side of the boat. But they had turned, why—? Everett leaned across to her, pulling her over toward him. But as he pulled her over, the boat shifted and they overbalanced. He slipped and Grace fell onto him. For a moment, she was too surprised to move. She had one hand braced on the hull of the boat, the other on his chest. Her body was totally over his and her skirts disheveled, allowing the wind around her calves. Down the side of his jawline, she could see the slight roughness where his beard was already growing. She’d never noticed how kissable his mouth was, firm and wide. It would be clever, too, coaxing out pleasure from her. Their bodies were pressed together: pelvis, belly, breast. Through the layers of their clothing, she could feel the heat of his body. She tingled everywhere they touched and warmth swelled in her.
“Grace.”
Her gaze met his and then she wished that she hadn’t turned. His expression burned her with his concentration and made her aware of the small space between his mouth and hers. Just a few inches of space and already her lips were tingling with some force, as though the energy of him were jumping across the little distance to her.
“Kiss me.” His request sent a reverberation through her.
She couldn’t say anything. She wanted that, too, but she couldn’t say it or move.
“You have to kiss me. I promised not to claim any conjugal rights. If you want a kiss, you have to take it.”
There was something in the air between them. It was a drug, thick and heady, and her lips tingled with it, the air was full of it. She wanted to kiss him, or she wanted him to kiss her. The moment was like a bubble around them, and it was getting smaller, drawing them together inexorably. How she wanted to feel his lips on hers, to give in to all the romance of a boat on the lake and an attractive man and forget everything else.
The flapping of the sail, which had been there all along, returned to her ears, a judgmental thwack chastising her. Grace drew back and scrambled to right herself.
She couldn’t afford to like him, she reminded herself as she sat carefully up onto the middle dividing line of the boat, allowing Everett to get up. This was a marriage of convenience, with a time limit of weeks. Men, lords, could kiss a lady and it meant nothing. If she wanted to get her brother back and not do something ill-advised like she had with Samuel, she couldn’t lose her head or her heart over this man, or any other.
Control. She must control herself and her feelings for the sake of those she cared for. When they were sailing again, she ventured to ask, “What happened?”
He turned around to her with a smile that bordered on naughty.
Well, there was an obvious answer: they had nearly kissed. What had happened was she had forgotten herself. She ought to know by now that when she indulged in thoughts like that, the result was disaster. Hadn’t her distraction with Samuel, when Anna suffered at Rayner’s hands, taught her anything?
She studied the line of trees at the side of the lake, not looking at Everett.
“The boat got stuck head to wind,” he explained. “It happens sometimes. When you don’t go far enough.”
No. They had gone much, much too far.
…
As soon as he was across the threshold of his bedchamber, Everett began to strip off his clothes. Thankfully, Mrs. Bishop knew he liked to bathe after sailing and arranged water to be ready, and he slipped into the water with a groan and closed his eyes.
Grace. The wind had pushed her riding habit against her thighs, revealing their shape and dipping slightly over her mons. After the incident in the boat, she’d reverted to silence, and he hadn’t known how to return to their easy companionship.
He hadn’t expected to want her so much. He’d always thought her beautiful and self-possessed. This afternoon, he’d discovered an impulsive woman that he could never have anticipated. He’d neglected the sail to watch her face as she leaned out of the boat, flushed and bright-eyed. She had laughed with riotous enjoyment, and he had wanted to hear more, much more of that.
When he’d fallen back in the boat, her landing on top of him, he hadn’t been able to breathe. Her dress clung to the curve of her breasts, her waist was tiny in his hands, and she was straddling him. Like a lover rather than a bargained wife. He felt a bolt of lust, seeing her over him. His mind knew the situation, but his body hardened and heated as though she wrestled him to the bottom of the boat for an illicit coupling. And her look. Her face inches from his, trading breaths. For a heart skip, he was convinced she would kiss him. Her eyes were dark with intent, her expression serious after the joviality of their sailing play. The sexuality between them seemed as physical as the water. Surely, she’d felt it, too?
Everett didn’t know when he’d started to stroke himself in the soapy bathwater. Or even when recollection had turned into full arousal. But he was hard now from the thought of an almost kiss and the feel of her legs against his.
If only she had kissed him. It could have led further. Her mouth, lowered onto his, would have been tentative at first. A slight touch of skin to skin. He would wait for her tacit permission, then open his mouth, deepening the kiss into an inferno.
As this was his fantasy, she whispered to him, “Show me, please. Guide me.”
She relinquished her right to lead and let him grasp her. Her bottom was rounded, and he pulled her down and against him. Holding the back of her head to keep her mouth on his, he divested them of clothes so they were naked in the bottom of the gently moving boat, the sail swinging above them. Her skin was silkier under his hands than the water as he reached up and cupped her breasts. Then, there was a delicious moment of anticipation as he grasped her and lifted her slightly away from him, scraped her body up his to place them together. He tangled his hand into her hair that had fallen from its pins, yet more silk over him. He was drowning in the smoothness of it. She plunged down onto him, enveloping him in tight heat.
His hips jerked as he thrust up into her, warm and wet as she groaned at the pleasure. He thrust again and again, harder and faster into Grace. He thrust in time with the motion of the boat, and she clawed his back to hold him closer and made incoherent sounds of desire.
He could hear lapping water, though not her mews of want. Everett opened his eyes momentarily, taking in the water threatening to slop over the sides of the bath and the swollen head of his cock in his fist, jutting up above the water. He closed his eyes again. She was sweet and his. She was calling for him to take her harder. He did, and there was an unmistakable sound of water cresting over. They capsized into the hot water.
He didn’t let her go. She clung to him. His hands were tight on her buttocks as he continued to ram into her. They were held by the water, floating in the lake and breathing through each other, mouths fused in a kiss of passion and life.
Then, they were in his bath. She was straddling him. His hands were braced around her small waist, pulling her down onto him. He reached up and cupped the curve of the underside of her breasts. He flicked his fingers over nipples, which were standing out for his attention. When he pinched one firmly, she cried out.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.” He felt her shudder, coming around him, grasping his hair. She was coming, and the knowledge she was ecstatic tipped him over the edge. He, too, erupted, spilling into her, pulling her body down on top of him to hold her as he came.
Everett recovered slowly. The waves subsided and the slosh of the water faded to a lisp. His heart rate slowed, and the shaking of his muscles finally ceased. The water that had been hot was lukewarm around him. As his arousal cooled, nothing replaced it, leaving him hollow.
He forced his eyes open. The floor was soaked. His cock was still proudly up, and he unclenched his fingers, letting it sink into the water. He’d been totally lost in his fantasy, unheeding of the consequences. He hadn’t cared about the mess that he would now have to disguise the origins of and impose on the servants. Shame scratched down his backbone. Everything had been irrelevant except the wonderful, all-encompassing thought of fucking his wife. But Grace was not going to beg him to fuck her or cling to him in rapture as he made her come.
This was a marriage bargain, not a romantic match. Making passionate love with Grace was about as likely as the lake turning into a hot bath.