Courting His Countess (A Historical Romance Novella) (5 page)

"Do you think we should try again tonight?
To make sure?"

"Most definitely. I want to be very, very
sure."

"So do I. Shall you come to me?"

He grinned again. He couldn't help it. His
wife had enjoyed the act. Perhaps they could enjoy it again sooner
than tonight. Like right now. He moved up to the bed but she
climbed off it on the far side.

"I think you should go after all," she said.
"I wouldn't want to embarrass my maid."

"I don't care if your maid is embarrassed."
But he watched as she put on her shift. "I want you to have some
new clothes made up. Colorful ones, not dreary browns and grays. If
you don't know a good seamstress, you could ask the other ladies
when we go to the palace."

Her hand stopped tying the laces of her
shift. "The palace?"

"There's always a ball on New Year's
Eve."

"We haven't been invited."

"We have."

"But I don't have a ball gown."

"Never mind that."

"Never mind?
Never mind?
Thomas, all
my ball gowns are old and ill-fitting. There is no time to alter
them. I cannot go." She fumbled with the laces and gave up with an
irritated click of her tongue.

He climbed across the bed and gently removed
her hands to tie the laces. The rise and fall of her chest made her
breasts brush against his knuckles but he did not touch her nipple
through the linen like he wanted to. He finished his task and said,
"Why don't you want to go to court?"

She shook her head and picked up his shirt.
He took it but didn't dress. "Rose, tell me."

She turned away.

He drew in a deep breath. "Last night, you
were a loving wife. This morning, you're angry again. You won't
talk to me, and hardly even look at me. Why? I thought it was all
resolved between us."

She spun round. "
Nothing
has changed
between us, Thomas. Last night was a small detour in our marriage,
a slight bend. Today the road is straight again. Do not expect
forgiveness based on one night of passion." She was trembling and
he reached out to comfort her, hold her, but she darted away.

A cold lump of ice settled in his stomach.
Had their love-making meant nothing to her? How could she not be
changed by it? He had been, in the most profound way. Yesterday he
thought he merely desired his wife and her forgiveness, today he
knew he was falling in love with her.

He dressed as she stood beside the door, a
silent statue with her beautiful pale hair falling around her
shoulders. Its unkempt state was the only reminder of their night
together.

At the door, he could not resist one final
kiss to remind her of what she could have if only she would let him
into her heart, and forgive him for something he regretted more
than his apology could ever convey.

She pulled away and he left. It felt like a
gaping hole had opened up in his chest. He didn't go straight to
his rooms. He needed to walk or ride or do something to exorcise
the melancholy from his system.

He opened the door to the Eastern Tower and
ran up the circular stone steps to the battlement at the top. The
cold wind slapped his face, waking him up, making him see that he'd
been a fool to think his wife would forgive him after one night
together. It would take time and many more passionate nights.

Fortunately they had those. He wasn't going
anywhere, not without her. Not anymore.

He breathed in the sharp winter air. Down
below, snow covered the Surrey countryside as far as the eye could
see, its pristine whiteness broken only by the village, the bare
orchard and the woods to the south. It had been Avondale land since
the time of William the Conqueror, except during the brief years in
which Wallan had owned much of it.

Six years ago, his inheritance had felt like
a noose around his neck. Now...now he liked it. He wanted to make
it his home, with his wife and children, God willing. He would not
let Wallan pull his strings anymore, and he especially wouldn't let
anyone insult Rose again. Including himself.

CHAPTER 7

"You must come to court, Avondale," Henry
Wallan said, stretching his legs toward the roaring winter parlor
fire. He held out his wine goblet for Rose to refill. "You
too."

Rose poured Malmsey into her father's goblet
and raised a questioning eyebrow at Thomas. He shook his head. He
didn't want a refill.

"I was intending to come for the New Year's
Eve ball," Thomas said. "But I've changed my mind. I prefer to stay
here."

Rose paused with the jug halfway to the
table. Why had he changed his mind? Lady Mossdale would be there,
and his friends. Knowing her husband, he must want to see them.

Perhaps she didn't know him well after all.
Yet surely his change of heart couldn't possibly be because of
Rose's refusal.

He saw her staring and winked.

Good lord. He
had
changed his mind
because of her. She dropped the pewter jug on the table with a loud
clank.

"Stupid girl," Wallan said, moving fast to
steady the jug. "You're spilling the wine."

"My name is Rose, and next time, refill your
own goblet. The jug is right beside you."

She had the immense satisfaction of seeing
her father's chins wobble as he spluttered a protest. "Are you
going to let your wife speak to your guest in such a manner,
Avondale? Six years in this place and she thinks she owns it."

"Actually, I am going to let her," Thomas
said. "And I'll have you know that my wife is anything but stupid.
She managed this place years on her own and it's flourishing. I
think she has every right to feel a sense of ownership." A small,
smug smile played around his lips. "You will call her 'my lady'
from now on," Thomas added, "since she is a countess and you a
what...knight?"

Wallan snorted. "How amusing," he mumbled
into his goblet. He drank deeply then rested it on his large
stomach as if it were a bench. "You know very well I haven't been
knighted."

Rose knew her father blamed herself and
Thomas for his lackluster career. If only she had gone to court
more often and charmed the queen. If only Thomas had not requested
to be posted to Ireland, and instead gone to court and charmed the
queen. If only, if only, if only. It was always someone else's
fault.

"So why aren't you coming to Richmond?" he
asked Thomas. Rose did not expect him to address her unless he had
to. It's how it had always been, even as a child. Indeed, the first
real conversation she remembered having with her father was when he
informed her she would wed Thomas. He hadn't even told her that her
mother had died. One of the servants was given that task.

"I've just returned to Lockhart and my
wife," Thomas said, sounding both bored and annoyed. "I'd like to
enjoy them for a little while before leaving for court."

Wallan snickered. "Your wife will travel
with you and the estate doesn't need you in winter. There. It's all
settled. We'll all travel back to Richmond together in a day or
two. In the meantime, I will enjoy your generous Avondale
hospitality."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Rose said, removing
the trencher of sweetmeats out of his reach before he could take
one, or all of them. "We are notoriously inhospitable here at
Lockhart Castle. Why else would you stay away for so long?"

"Perhaps it had something to do with your
sharp tongue, Daughter."

"My lady," Thomas reminded him. "And perhaps
you didn't come because she wouldn't bow to your will and go back
to court with you." His eyes flashed with anger. "Did she make her
point too bluntly eighteen months ago? Is that why you didn't
return earlier? Did you finally realize you couldn't force her
against her will?"

Rose tried to catch his attention but
failed. She knew her father, knew the signs for when he'd been
pushed too far. By the way his face reddened and his neck thickened
so that it appeared as if his ruff would choke him, she knew he was
already furious.

"I think I liked you better when you were a
bone-headed youth led around by his prick," Wallan said.

"Enough," Thomas said quietly,
ominously.

"He was never bone-headed," Rose said. She
didn't say anything about the prick part. Better to leave that
alone since it was true.

Her father's harsh laugh grated against her
nerves. "You speak with such dishonor,
my lady
. Have you
forgotten that I am the one who brought you two together? Don't
pretend you didn't want this marriage. I made you a countess and I
gave you your heart's desire."

Oh no. No. Don't.

"I know you wanted him. All the women wanted
him. All the women had him too, although I saw to it that you won
in the end."

She sat down heavily just as Thomas shot to
his feet. "Enough! I am not so good a host that I wouldn't throw
you out on a December night."

Her father simply smiled and rocked himself
out of the chair. Rose turned her face toward the fire in the hope
her burning cheeks would be attributed to the heat and not
humiliation.

"Very well, have it your way," Wallan said.
He turned to go but stopped. "Wait. I just remembered something."
He smiled first at Thomas then at Rose. She didn't trust him. He
was up to something. He reached inside the pouch hanging from his
belt. "I forgot to give you this letter. It's a personal message
from Her Majesty specifically reminding you to attend her New
Year's Eve ball. I think you'll find you'll be going to Richmond
after all." He gave it to Thomas then walked out of the parlor,
limping a little.

Rose remained seated and watched as Thomas
cracked the bold red seal and unfolded the thick cream parchment.
"It is indeed from the queen." He read it then handed it to Rose.
"Her words are plain enough. She's not asking us to attend, she's
commanding."

Rose scanned the missive twice before
folding it. "Then we must go."

"We could say I fell ill and you needed to
nurse me."

"My father would tell them otherwise. I
wouldn't be surprised if this," she waved the invitation, "is his
doing."

"You think he has Her Majesty's ear?"

"He may. It's not something we can risk. We
must go to the palace." She stood and dropped the parchment on the
table. "It's almost time for supper. I'll inform Moon to deliver
Father's to his room. I cannot sit at a table with him
tonight."

She made to walk off but Thomas slipped in
behind her and gently held her back by her shoulders. He massaged
his thumbs into the knots in her neck, below her ruff, and she
tilted her head forward and groaned. She should move away,
shouldn't let him touch her like this lest she succumb to him, but
his thumbs worked like magic to ease the tension pulling her
tight.

"Stay awhile with me until you are feeling
more relaxed," he murmured.

"I am relaxed." She tried to move away but
he held her and she didn't struggle. Another minute or two of his
massage and she would be calm and—

He kissed the back of her neck, just below
her hairline. A tiny wisp of a kiss that nevertheless had a great
impact. Heat coiled through her body, tingling her nipples and
moistened her between the thighs. All from one little kiss. But it
was the unspoken promise in it that thrilled her.

Troubled her.

Giving into her desire was one thing, and it
made the act of getting a child easier, but giving into the
emotions battering at her heart was entirely another. That she
could not allow, or her heart would be damaged irreparably.

"You get ahead of yourself, Thomas," she
said, straightening and stepping out of his reach. "It will be some
time before you can come to my bed."

His wicked smile matched the gleam in his
eyes. "Who says we need a bed?" He hooked her round her waist and
reeled her in until her body slammed into his. "Or that we have to
wait until tonight?"

"We don't?"

He kissed her lips, a light teasing peck
that was much too brief. "We can do it right here in the winter
parlor."

"On the rushes?"

"I'll lay down my cloak."

"What about the servants? They might come in
while we're..."

He removed a key from his pocket and smiled
against her lips before kissing her so thoroughly she wouldn't have
cared who saw. He broke the kiss to lock the door and lay his cloak
across the rushes near the fire. Then he picked her up and gently
lay her down. It was so hot near the fire. Very hot. She needed to
shed some clothes.

He helped her, his fingers working fast on
the hooks and eyes, the laces and points, until she was lying
before him in nothing but stockings and garters.

"Leave them on," he said hoarsely. His gaze
raked over her, lingering on her breasts, her sex, her face, then
he finally undressed too and it was her turn to admire. His body
was powerful, the muscles in his arms and shoulders hard, his
stomach ridged. A sprinkle of dark hair covered his chest and his
manhood...moved! Her eyes widened.

He laughed softly. "It salutes you."

She reached up and gently wrapped her hand
around his length. He groaned low in his throat and rocked forward
on the balls of his feet. "As your superior officer, I command you
to come here."

Instead of lying over her, he performed a
new trick on her with his tongue that had her gasping for breath
before long and bunching his cloak in her fists as the dam burst
inside her.

Then he entered her, sinking deep inside,
gently. Too gently. His rhythm was too slow, too controlled. She
shifted out from under him and indicated he should lie down. He
grinned when he realized she was going to ride him. The grin
vanished amid a loud groan as she slid down over his manhood. Their
skin was soon slick with sweat and Rose's hair, free of its pins,
shielded their faces like a curtain as she rode him until he
climaxed.