Desiring Lady Caro (15 page)

Suddenly she seemed to rouse. “But kissing doesn’t fit my plan.”

He raised his brows.
Plan?
Huntley pressed his lips lightly against her temple again, and she stirred sluggishly. Was she even awake? “What plan, my love?”

“To make you leave me.”

“But you promised me an heir.”

She turned and gazed sleepily into his eyes. “Yes, but I thought I’d just . . . um . . . endure it.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl. “Indeed? I must tell you, my dear, your idea does not appeal to me at all.
My plan
is to have you enjoy it as much as I do.”

Caro snuggled back down against him. “I don’t think it will work.”

Running his hand over his face, he shook his head. This had to be the strangest conversation he’d ever had with a woman, and he’d had his share. What was she up to? Or had she just told him? One never knew. The female sex had a very different way of viewing things. One thing was certain—he had to find out and stop whatever it was she intended.

 

“My lord?” Nugent stood at the side of the bed.

Huntley’s eyes popped open. The presence of his wife’s maid was no longer a surprise. What did astonish him was that he was sleeping almost as much as Caro. “Yes, Nugent?”

“It’s time to rouse her for luncheon. The doctor said he’d be round shortly afterwards.”

He glanced at Caro curled up next to him, sleeping peacefully, and a tenderness he’d never experienced before washed over him. “Find a warm, thick dressing gown for her to wear. If her ladyship doesn’t have one, ask Maufe.”

Nugent’s lips twitched. “Yes, my lord.”

“And, Nugent, I have questions I need you to answer.”

The humor left her countenance and she pressed her lips into a straight line. “If I am able, my lord.”

Huntley fixed his gaze on her. Demanding her cooperation was not the way to get it. “Fair enough. I hope you know I only want to help her ladyship. I can’t do it blind.”

The tension left Nugent’s face. “I do know, my lord. Very well, whenever you are ready.”

After the maid left, he lightly kissed his wife on her jaw and neck. “Caro, my sweet, it’s time for luncheon.”

When he nibbled her throat, she turned into him and opened her sleep-fogged eyes. He moved back to her lips, caressing them lightly with his own. Finally she responded by pursing hers. There was still a long way to go, but thank the Lord for small favors and kissing.

Huntley’s lips were so warm and firm, yet soft. Nothing like the quick kisses Caro had shared with Andrew or the wet, unwelcome ones from . . . no, she wouldn’t mention his name. Holding her to him, Huntley’s hands rubbed her back, soothing the small knots. The heat from his hand spread through her. Delightful shivers accompanied his every touch. How good it was to be held like this. She responded to his kiss, copying what he did. Her lips pulsed, and she pressed them harder against his.

His arms tightened. “Caro, my darling.”

She should stop. It couldn’t last. Once they met her godmother in Nancy, he’d leave her, and all this would end. No man had ever truly wanted her for herself. Why should he be any different?

When he broke their kiss, she rested her chin on his shoulder and gazed at him. His eyes were green flecked with gold. “Your eyes always change, but I don’t know what the different colors mean.”

He stroked her back. “You’ll have to perform experiments and record your findings, like a scientist.”

Caro’s throat tightened, causing her voice to hitch. “That would take a long time.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, untangling the strands. “We have time. Caro, I’m not going anyplace.”

That’s what Andrew said, and he left her, even after he said he loved her. She tried to blink back the tears and failed. Huntley held her as she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

He ran the pad of his thumb under her eyes and kissed them. “You’re still not well, my love. Don’t tease yourself. We’ll work it out.”

Once she’d stopped weeping, he laid her gently down and rose from the bed. “I’ll return shortly.”

Several minutes later, Nugent entered carrying a garment that Caro had never seen before and not a particularly pretty one at that. “
What
is that?”

“It’s his lordship’s. He wants you to wear it when the doctor visits.”

She did not understand. “But, Nugent, why must I wear a dressing gown of Lord Huntley’s?”

Nugent held it out as if she expected Caro to put it on. “It was the only one we could find that was modest enough for his lordship’s sense of propriety.”

Caro looked down at the green woolen dressing gown that had bone buttons and was belted at the waist. “Propriety?”

Nugent sniffed. “Yes, my lady. Much in the same way he insisted we cover the tub with a sheet the first time the doctor came.”

Caro’s brows drew together. “He did?”

“Yes, my lady,” her maid said. “He’s very protective of you. Mr. Maufe has been the only one other than me allowed in the chamber.”

Caro shook her head. He was acting as if they were truly husband and wife. Except for getting her to and from the tub, he could have left her nursing to Nugent. God knows she’d done it often enough. “What I don’t understand is why.”

Nugent’s brows drew together. “It may be because he cares for you. Have you thought of telling him what happened, my lady?”

Caro could feel her face drain of color, and a hole seemed to open up in the floor beneath her. She grabbed onto a chair as the room whirled. “I can’t.”

Nugent caught Caro before she fell. “Come and sit. There’s no hurry, after all.”

She couldn’t do what Nugent wanted her to. “There is no reason to tell him anything,” Caro pleaded. “When we reach Nancy, I’ll release him. He’ll never have to know.”

“You can try,” Nugent responded gently. “But he’s a stubborn man. What happens if he doesn’t want to leave?”

Caro rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t making any sense. Her thoughts must still be garbled from her illness. He couldn’t leave her in Nancy. He wouldn’t go until she’d—given birth. Would she be able to leave the child? And what if it took more than once for her to get with child? A small sob escaped.

Nugent’s arm left Caro. “I’ll get his lordship.”

Caro stared up at her. “For what reason, pray?”

Nugent shook her head. “Because for all your talk about leaving him, lately he’s the only one who’s been able to settle you when you get fussed.”

Caro took a shaky breath and tried to calm herself. “I’m fine. There’s no need for you to call him.”

“Call whom?” a deep voice asked.

He was dressed in buff pantaloons that showed off his muscular legs. His white shirt was open at the neck, and he wore his banyan. Why did he have to be so handsome? “I’m perfectly fine.”

Concern showed in his face. In two strides, he reached her. He touched his hand to her forehead and breathed a sigh of relief.

A tear ran down her cheek; he wiped it away. “What’s this then?”

Caro wanted him to hold her. She wanted to trust him, and she wanted to love him. Yet it would kill her if she did.

 

A
fter over a week of travel crushed into five days, Horatia and her household had successfully evaded the marchese. She now stood at the rail of the ship as it bobbed at anchor off the old port, waiting for the tide to change.

The ship’s captain stood next to her. She shifted slightly to put more space between them and asked, “What is that huge building at the end of the quay?”

Without even squinting, he replied, “That, my lady, is the Grande Hotel Beauvau. It was completed this year. It is the largest, most modern hotel in the Vieux-Port
.
”

“It looks large indeed. The views of the harbor must be wonderful from there.” She smiled to herself. La Valle had reserved their rooms at the hotel. She was very pleased about the choice, but had no intention of sharing the information with the overly solicitous captain. The second the man had discovered she was a widow, he’d attached himself to her side like a leech and was becoming harder and harder to lose.

“Alas, I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “I have my own rooms here.” He glanced at her, an invitation in his dark eyes.

Horatia pretended she did not take his meaning. “Very convenient for you, I’m sure. How long did you say it would be before we dock?”

“You have no need to hurry, my lady. It will not be for another hour.”

Horatia opened her eyes wide. “That soon? Oh, dear me. I really must get my servants together. Please excuse me, Captain. Thank you for keeping me company.”

She walked quickly to her cabin, collapsed on the bed, and scowled. “Risher, please have La Valle attend me.”

Her maid frowned. “My lady, what happened?”

“If I have to suffer another lecherous leer from that captain,” Horatia said, “I’ll not be responsible for my actions.”

Shaking her head, Risher replied, “I think La Valle is getting the others ready. Do you want me to take him away from that?”

Horatia considered it for a moment, but pulling him away would only delay disembarking. “No, just tell him that neither you nor he are to leave my side until we’re off this vessel. Tell La Valle we will make our journey to Nancy in easy stages. It will take Caro and Huntley much longer to arrive.”

“Very good, my lady,” her maid responded. “Shall I lock the door and take the key?”

“Please do.” Horatia sighed, relieved to be alone for a while.

After Risher left, Horatia rubbed her temples. Why did every man think that because she was a widow, she would be receptive to their advances? After her period of mourning for her husband, she’d been swamped with offers, though not of marriage. No one wanted to wed a barren woman. Eventually all the gentlemen had given up.

Her marriage had not been a love match, but even though her husband was much older than she, he’d still been very well-looking and active. It had been a good marriage. He’d promised her adventure and affection, and, for the years they’d been married, he’d given her both. George had been very sweet about her inability to conceive, first telling her she was too young, then that it didn’t matter if she gave him an heir or not. Horatia doubted she’d ever find a man his equal.

The clang of the anchor being lifted and the surge of the ship caused her to glance out. Good, they would soon be at the pier.

Risher returned to the cabin and stayed with Horatia until the ship docked and La Valle came for them. They made their way up to the deck. Fortunately, the captain was busy speaking with someone when she descended the gangway to the wharf.

“My lady,” La Valle asked, “would you like me to find a coach for you?”

She glanced to the end of the harbor. “No, thank you. The hotel is not far. If you will ensure everyone else gets there safely with all the baggage, Risher and I shall walk. I’ll take one of the footmen as well.” Horatia glanced around. One of the stronger, brawnier footmen stood nearby. “Perhaps Alberto can accompany us.”

La Valle bowed and beckoned to the footman. “As you wish, my lady.”

She was watching the trunks and other baggage being carried down from the ship and stepped aside, only to catch her heel on something. She started to fall, and the next thing she knew she was gazing up into the most unusual pair of sea-green eyes she’d ever seen. They searched her face as if looking for something, though she knew she had never met this man before. She couldn’t have forgotten his eyes, the color of the ocean as it surged against the rocks. His grip tightened, and her body sank into his. It had been such a long time since a man had held her.

Good Lord!
What the devil was she doing?

She reminded herself to breathe, but was unable to look away. His gaze was mesmerizing, like the snake charmers in India. “Oh, I am terribly sorry. I should have looked before I moved.”

The man didn’t answer but remained where he was, embracing her. He clutched her so tightly she had to strain her neck to continue looking at him. “Thank you for catching me.”

Small lines creased the corners of his eyes as they smiled down at her. His tone was deep, and soft. “My pleasure. I count myself fortunate that I was here to stop you from falling. A dock can be a dangerous place.” He glanced around and frowned disapprovingly. “Especially when the lines aren’t properly stowed.”

His strong arms caused sparks to shoot through her all the way to her core, and her body responded to a need she’d thought long dead. Oh my! That kind of reaction would not do at all. Although the air was chilly, Horatia wished she had a fan. She really must get away from this man and the desire he was stirring. “I take it you sail?”

“You could say that.” He flashed a crooked smile.

Horatia tried to keep her eyes from widening, and smiling back. His face was browned from the sun. His jaw was square. He had an aquiline nose that appeared to have been broken at some point. Yet what held her interest were his well-molded lips and straight white teeth. Then a dimple popped out, looking so incongruous in his strong face. From his voice, one could tell he was definitely gently bred and English.

Good Lord
. She was acting like a peagoose. Straightening, she tried to put a little distance between her and the man. “Well, thank you, we really must be going.” Horatia glanced around to find Risher standing a little way away talking to Alberto, apparently oblivious to Horatia’s problem. “Risher.”

The maid hurried over. “Yes, my lady? Are you all right?”

“I tripped, but I’m fine. We must leave.” Horatia turned to the gentleman. “We must be going.”

Why was she repeating herself?

She started to walk but was still held firm by his strong hands. What would they feel like on her bare . . . This was not going at all as planned.

He took one of her arms and twined it in his. “I’ll escort you, my lady. The docks are not safe for a female like you.”

Horatia hadn’t wanted to do anything reckless in years, yet the urge surged forward. She had to get away from him. “I have a footman. Alberto, make your bow to . . . to . . .” She raised a brow.

“Allow me to introduce myself, my lady. Captain, the Honorable John Whitton.”

“To Captain Whitton.”

He inclined his head, acknowledging her young footman, but didn’t seem at all impressed.

What was she doing? Normally, while traveling, she abandoned English proprieties. Really, how could one expect to always be in the company of someone who could perform an introduction? But at the moment, she did wish they had been properly introduced.

Men with strong jaws ought not to be allowed to have dimples. It was far too distracting.
Oh drat
. “I beg your pardon.” She tried to curtsey but he held her up. “Lady Horatia Laughton, widow of Mr. George Laughton.”

Captain Whitton’s mien became serious. “Of course you are,” he said as if he’d already known her name. “I was sorry to hear of George’s death.”

Horatia nodded. “Yes, though it’s been quite fifteen years now. How did you know my husband?”

“He was a mentor of sorts,” Captain Whitton replied. “When I first arrived in the West Indies, George took me under his wing.” The captain turned her and they walked toward the hotel. “I assume you’re staying at the Beauvau?”

Her heart, which had started to thump painfully, was interfering with her throat. “How—how did you know?”

“You’re walking.” He grinned. “It’s the only hotel in the area to which you’d be likely to give your custom.”

“Yes, of course.” Her voice sounded breathless, but that wasn’t surprising, the way her body was set on betraying her. God Almighty, she was acting like a girl again, and she’d
never
been a well-behaved young lady.

“Allow me to escort you. Marseille is a busy port town,” he continued. “As such, it has its share of crime, especially around the docks. Do you plan on making a long visit?”

“No,” Horatia replied, grateful she would not be in his company long. She’d never met a man who so captivated her on a purely physical level. She was much too attracted to him. Resisting the urge to twist the fringe of her scarf, she replied, “We shall rest for a few days, then travel north.”

They entered the hotel, where La Valle waited for her. “Thank you for your arm, Captain. I wish you a good day.”

He bowed, but when he rose a flash of humor entered his eyes, as if he knew some secret joke. “It was my pleasure.”

“My lady?”

“Yes, La Valle, do you have our rooms arranged?” She resisted the urge to watch the captain leave. He’d probably return to his ship, and that was the best place for him. Away. Far away from her, and her overeager senses.

“Of course, my lady. If you will follow me.”

 

Horatia had a large chamber with a balcony overlooking the harbor. Though she searched, and could see the ship they’d been on, she could not find Captain Whitton. “Risher, come look how interesting it all is.”

“Yes, my lady. Much like your view of the Grand Canal.”

“I suppose you are right,” Horatia replied. “I do love being around the water.”

“Why don’t you go down to the parlor, my lady, and drink tea, while I put your clothes away?”

“I think I shall.”

She changed into a day gown and picked up her book. “I’ll be back later.”

Horatia opened the door and walked into a wall of male muscle. His arm shot out to stop her from bouncing off him.

“Oh!” She glanced up. Captain Whitton. Her breath caught. “Good day, Captain.” His hand seemed to burn through the thin cashmere of her gown and three petticoats. This was not good. She didn’t need a man to offer her carte blanche again. Even if he was sinfully handsome and her body responded to him as it never had to anyone. His heat soaked into her. No, she could not do this. Whatever
this
was. “I was just going . . .”

Horatia’s voice faded. He stared down at her. His eyes twinkled with humor. Her gaze dropped to his lips, tilted once more into his crooked smile. The dimple made an appearance, and her lips tingled in response.

His arm tightened, causing her breasts to brush against his coat. A shiver shot straight to the apex of her thighs, and she stopped breathing. Horatia closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub against him like some wanton cat.

She inhaled and opened her lips to tell him they were standing much too close together and he really shouldn’t have his arm around her. Oh Lord, he looked as if he’d like to devour her. Slowly, he bent his head, kissing and nibbling his way from the edge of her lips to the center. By the time he got there, her mouth opened, wanting him, begging him to continue. His tongue ran across her teeth, teasing. When she could stand it no more, she put her hands on his face and caressed his tongue with hers. He tasted like tea and the ocean. He lifted her as he tilted his head, and she pressed into him, moaning. After several moments, her brain finally caught up with her long-starved senses. What was she doing, kissing him like this? She tried to jerk away. “
Captain Whitton
.”

The indignation she’d tried to infuse into the words didn’t come out quite as she’d planned. Her voice was much too soft and breathy, as if she meant to encourage him rather than the opposite. She put her hand on his chest and pushed. He loosened his hold but didn’t move away. She could not allow this to happen, not now. She had too many duties to focus on.

Horatia tried again. “Captain Whitton, I may be a widow, but I am a chaste widow. I do not engage in love making outside of the marital bonds.”

“Very well.”

As his head bent to kiss her again, she hauled back one arm and slapped him.

Whitton’s head jerked up with a frown. “What the deuce was that for?”

“I told you . . .”

“Yes, you told me you had to be married to make love with me, and I agreed.”

Something was terribly wrong with this conversation. She narrowed her eyes. “Agreed to what?”

“Marry you, of course.”

All the air rushed out of her as if her lungs were a bellows. “
Marry me
? Have you lost your mind? Or do you go around suggesting marriage to every lady?”

“Of course not. If I made a habit of that, I would have been married a long time ago.”

“This—you—are outrageous!”

“I’m merely taking the initiative.” John grinned. Her lovely countenance was full of virtuous outrage, yet her body was still flush against his. God, she was a beautiful woman, and she looked even better with her face rosy and her green eyes flashing.

One nicely arched brow lifted, and her stubborn chin tilted up. That was even better. He liked a woman with spirit, and Lady Horatia had plenty of that.

“You are very sure of yourself, sir.”

Resisting the urge to smile, a gesture sure to anger her even more, he said, “I am thought to be a rather good catch.”