Lord Greywell's Dilemma (29 page)

“It would have been simpler to lock the door against him,” she retorted, a faint flush rising to her cheeks.

“Why, so it would. I should have consulted you.”

“You really thought I might come?”

“I hoped you would, but it didn’t seem likely. And yet here you are.

She stared at her wrinkled gown. “I couldn’t be sure you would want me to come.”

“Of course you could.” He made to sit up and thought better of it. “Why don’t you lock the door now, my sweet. Then we can tie back this stifling material and have a little fresh air.” He pushed the damp hair from his forehead as he spoke.

“Very well,” she said, a little stiffly. “Don’t bother to get up! I’ll get the hangings, too.”

Elspeth didn’t notice his twinkling eyes as she scurried off to lock both doors, open the window a bit, and then tie back the maroon velvet. He had moved over to the opposite side of the bed when she was finished, and he patted the side nearest her. “Join me,” he invited, arranging himself in a sitting position against one of the pillows.

It was an enormously large bed, and she found it was a little awkward climbing onto it. Sitting on the side, she kicked off her shoes and positioned herself against the pillow he had placed for her at the head of the bed. Greywell immediately took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “You look a bit pale,” he said. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Let me take your shawl,” he suggested. “You really don’t need it.”

Elspeth shifted slightly so he could remove it from her shoulders, and watched as he folded it carefully and placed it on the floor beside the bed. Her nervousness was increasing by the minute.

“Do you want me to ring for your morning tea?” she asked.

There was a trace of amusement in his voice when he said, “Thank you, no. Unless, of course, you yourself are impatient for yours.”

“I drink hot chocolate,” she reminded him, her fingers unconsciously playing with a fold of the sheet. She hastened to add, “And I don’t want any now.”

“Good.” He had turned to face her and was now gently removing the pins from her hair and running his fingers through it to unbraid her long tresses. “I particularly liked this hairstyle,” he told her as he ruined it. “I hope you’ll wear it again soon.”

“Yes, I . . . I will.”

“And your gown. I dare say your maid won’t have any difficulty getting out the wrinkles, but I should have thought to send her up with your dressing gown. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, but perhaps we should remove it now so that it doesn’t get any more wrinkled. Would you mind if I helped you out of it, Elspeth?”

He was running a finger along the hollow of her throat and could feel her swallow convulsively, but he smiled encouragement, and she nodded. There were dozens of tiny covered buttons down the back of the dress. He undid each one with unhesitating, patient fingers while her back was turned to him and her arms folded protectively over her breasts.

Elspeth allowed him to slip the dress down her arms and then under her bottom and down her legs. The muslin chemise was thick enough not to be transparent, though just barely. He draped the dress over a nightstand beside the bed. Then he moved over to put his arm around her shoulders. “There. You’ll be more comfortable now,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“We expect your father about midafternoon, don’t we?”

“Sometime before dinner, yes.”

He was rubbing his fingers through the hair that rested on her shoulders. “You have beautiful hair, Elspeth. And your maid is very clever in dressing it. Are you satisfied with her, your maid?”

“Oh, yes, she’s excellent. Emily Marden recommended her.”

Elspeth was having a little difficulty meeting his eyes, but her shyness was diminishing as he continued to talk and caress her shoulder. It disappeared altogether when he kissed her, his warm, eager lips against hers. This was not a tentative kiss at all, but one born of desire, though carefully controlled so as not to frighten her. She responded to the longing pressure, parting her lips so his tongue could enter. He tasted a little different than he had the night before, more like autumn walnuts than summer fruit. She loved the taste of him.

They had been sitting, but she found they were now lying against one another, and she could feel his naked hardness through the thin coating of her muslin pantalettes. She moved her hands to feel the firm skin on his back, to run them down to his waist. And still her lips were joined with his in a continuing, delicious exploration that had no object but their pleasure. His hands moved gradually from her back to her sides, where they slid under the chemise, stroking her tenderly on the silky unexposed flesh.

They heard the doorknob rattle, and Greywell grinned at her.

“I won’t need you this morning,” he called to Clemson, whose “Very good, milord” sounded more than a little put-out. Elspeth blinked at her husband in the growing light, disliking even the small interruption. Greywell brushed back her hair and kissed her forehead and eyelids, his hands beginning a cautious journey up her body under the chemise. When he touched the swell of her breasts, he was gazing into her eyes. Her lips trembled, but not with fear or even surprise. “I love to touch you,” he said.

“I love having you touch me,” she whispered. His hands gently cupped her breasts, finding and fingering the already prominent nipples.

“Let’s take off your chemise,” he suggested.

Elspeth struggled eagerly from the offending garment with his help, sitting up to toss it off the bed. Greywell clasped her to him, his arms tight around her in an affectionate hug. “You’re a real treasure,” he murmured.

Then he kissed her gently on the lips before lowering his head to her breast. As on the evening before, the sensations he produced made Elspeth’s body tingle with desire. Each movement of his lips, his tongue, sent a riot of messages throughout her body. When his hand came to stroke her gently between her thighs, she thought she would burst with wanting him, but he was not yet satisfied that she was ready. Or he was not himself ready to culminate the delightful rising passion in himself. Elspeth didn’t mind. If possible, she wanted this glorious headiness to last forever.

He had pushed down the pantalettes, and his fingers were doing excruciatingly erotic things to her. She gasped.

“It will hurt a little the first time, Elspeth. There’s a bit of tissue that has to be broken for me to enter you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said breathlessly. “Only don’t wait any longer.”

He laughed and kissed her before removing the pantalettes entirely. Then he positioned himself over her and began to let nature take its course, though thrusting slowly, patiently forcing her maidenhead. She made only one murmur of pained surprise before the waves of ecstasy rolled over her. She clung to him as he came, feverishly kneading at his buttocks, drawing him into her as far as she could. Her eyes shone with wonder as they lay together, spent. He continued to stroke her, whispering unrecognizable phrases in her ear.

Their bodies cooled gradually, and he lifted himself up on his elbows to ask, “Are you all right, my dear?”

“I’ve never felt better in my life,” she said, purring like a kitten.

Greywell laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “And this is the woman who wanted nothing to do with pleasures of the flesh. I’ll be eternally grateful you changed your mind, Elspeth.” A slight frown creased his forehead. “I hope you won’t regret the decision.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“No, I don’t think you will. Shall I have your maid come to you here?”

“I’d rather go back to my room, if you’ll lend me a dressing gown.

Greywell disentangled himself from her and hopped off the bed. Elspeth watched him walk unselfconsciously across the room to where his dressing gown lay across a chair. She was even more fascinated when he walked back toward her. “You may be a little sore today,” he said.

“I don’t mind.” She climbed out of bed, determined to be as easy in her nakedness as he was in his, and allowed him to help her into the dressing gown.

Greywell shook his head, bemused. “You never cease to amaze me, Elspeth. Shall I come with you?”

“Good heavens, no! I have a thousand things to do before my father comes. Andrew will be awake now, and I’ll want to check on him, and there are flowers to cut, and the menu to be gone over, and . . .”

“Yes, well, I can see I’d only be in the way,” he conceded as he opened the door. “Don’t be so busy I don’t see you all day.”

“I won’t,” she called back over her shoulder as she marched down the corridor, her head held high, her body regally erect.

Greywell watched until she disappeared from sight around a corner. He was remembering the last time he had thought how she held her body differently. Decidedly she had become aware of her sexuality then, because of Francis. But this was not the same. Even if he hadn’t had the proof of her virginity, he would have seen the distinction. This time there was not only an awareness, but a glorying in her body, in its power and its pleasure. The curiosity had given way to knowledge, and there was a pride in the knowledge, an acceptance in the experience. Elspeth had never felt more a woman, and the excitement radiated from her.

Greywell felt an odd stirring of his emotions, and realized, with some regret but mostly with thankfulness, that he had come to love this unusual woman. He promised himself he would always reserve a special place in his heart for the memory of Caroline, but accepted that time passed, and wounds healed, and that he had been exceedingly fortunate to have stumbled across Elspeth, the prudish spinster of Lyndhurst.

The only thing that disturbed this understanding was his uncertainty as to her own emotions. Oh, he didn’t doubt that she had enjoyed their lovemaking as much as he had, but he questioned whether she was as deeply involved emotionally as he was. After all, it was only a few weeks ago she had told him she loved Francis.

* * * *

Sir Edward arrived in the early afternoon. This time he came with only a modicum of luggage; it was too soon for fox-hunting, unless he intended to stay for several months. Elspeth, of course, had no idea as to his intentions, since he had neglected to advise her of them. When she inquired as to his health, he said, “Tolerable, very tolerable, for a man my age.”

“You look wonderful,” she agreed, taking his arm and leading him to the North Drawing Room. Greywell was just coming out of his study to join them.

The baronet paused in the hall to look down at his daughter. One brow lowered and the other rose as he attempted to pinpoint the change in her. “It’s not your hair or your dress,” he muttered, still puzzled. “You were already fixing yourself up the last time I was here. It’s the way you carry yourself. By God, you’ve—”

“Welcome to Ashfield,” Greywell interjected smoothly as a flush worked its way up Elspeth’s cheeks. “We’re delighted to have you come for a visit, Sir Edward. Will you be able to make it a long stay?”

“Can’t say yet.” The baronet turned to him, after one more quizzical look at Elspeth, and extended his hand. “Congratulations,” he said. “I wasn’t at all sure it could be accomplished, you know, making a real woman of her.”

“Elspeth has always been a real woman.” But Greywell refused to take offense, knowing Sir Edward’s peculiarities too well. “How was your journey?”

“No worse than any other I’ve made,” he conceded as he followed Greywell and Elspeth into the drawing room. “I could use a little something to work the dust of the road out of my throat.”

Elspeth gave a vigorous tug to the bell rope before seating herself on the sofa. Greywell sat down beside her, his shoulder touching hers. “We’ve invited Abigail to dine with us tonight,” he said. “We thought you would like to bring her here yourself.”

Sir Edward grumbled something that sounded like approval, but he refused to meet Elspeth’s eyes. “You’ll want to know what’s been going on around Lyndhurst, I dare say. The big news is that Blockley’s getting married. Little slip of a girl, ugly as sin. Can’t think for the life of me why she’d have him. Quite a pair they’ll make. He’s pursued several of the ladies since you left, Elspeth, but they had as much sense as you did. This one probably thinks it’s the only chance she’ll have. Poor child.”

Since Elspeth couldn’t think quite how to respond to this information, it was fortunate Selsey arrived just then in answer to her ring. She ordered refreshments, which included Madeira for her father, and then turned back to him to inquire after others in the neighborhood. They sat chatting pleasantly until after he had downed a glass of Greywell’s finest wine, when he rose abruptly and announced he must change for his call on Abigail.

He was gone with such suddenness that Elspeth sat staring at the door after he left. “Well! I don’t know what can have possessed him to leave so quickly,” she said, a little embarrassed for his precipitateness. “It’s still several hours until dinner.”

Greywell looked thoughtful but said only, “I imagine he’s eager to see her. Shall we take Andrew out in the garden?”

* * * *

On no occasion had Elspeth seen Abigail dressed as she was that evening. True, the night before she had looked entirely presentable, but when she arrived on Sir Edward’s arm for dinner at Ashfield she was so elegant as to be almost unrecognizable. Her dress, though long out of fashion, was striking in its suitability to her. Full folds of emerald satin flowed about her, and a high-standing collar graced a surprisingly simple but effective hairstyle. Elspeth was shaken by her appearance and turned to Greywell with a half-fearful question in her eyes. She felt him press her hand before addressing Abigail.

“You look magnificent,” he said. “Quite like the old days.”

But Abigail was paying no attention to his flattery. Her gaze was on Elspeth, those small, sharp eyes assessing her so omnisciently that Elspeth squirmed beneath the scrutiny. Finally she turned to Sir Edward and smiled. “You’re right,” she said. “It was a near thing. If he’d come home a week later . . .”

Elspeth would have succumbed to a fit of the vapors if she’d had the capability. But such maidenly ploys had always been denied her, and she met Greywell’s gently probing eyes with a lifted chin. How dare any of them discuss her this way, as though she weren’t even there? She had been sorry for what happened, and she’d told him about it—well, a little about it—when he’d questioned her. There had seemed no sense in going into details, and what, after all, did Abigail know about the matter, anyhow? Surely she hadn’t been bird-watching in the woods that night! No, of course she hadn’t. She simply wished to seem all-knowing about Elspeth’s affairs, though they certainly didn’t concern her in the least. Elspeth offered the chair nearest the fireplace to Abigail, though there was no blaze on the hearth.