More Than Charming (26 page)

Catherine sighed in answer, pleased to her toes over his joyful acceptance of her incredible news. She drifted off to sleep, content to bask in her husband’s love for their unborn child. Its reflection was bright and warm.

And enough for now.

The next morning, James reached for Catherine and kissed her awake. “Good morning, love.”

Catherine groaned as she rolled over in bed, clutching her belly.

James saw her grimace and sat up. “Are you all right?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in what he guessed was an attempt to regain herself.

“I shall be, James,” she murmured. “Just as soon as you cease rocking the bed.”

“So sorry.” He held himself still as she slowly sat up. After a long moment, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. She looked a bit pale but otherwise she was her usual gorgeous self. “Well?”

“It only persists for the briefest time in the mornings,” she explained to him. “Dr. Morgan said that soon I shall feel fine all the time.”

“That’s a relief.” James ran his eyes over her, still amazed that she carried his child. “And soon you’ll be round and plump with our baby.”

A strange look crossed Catherine’s face at his innocently spoken comment, something akin to fear or worry.

“What is it, sweetheart?” James placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you feeling ill again?”

She shook her head, averted her gaze to her lap, twisting the bedclothes in her hands. “James, will you take a mistress when I’m big with child?”

He was stunned by her question. A mistress? “What? Why the devil would you think that?”

Catherine shrugged her shoulders and looked up at him. He saw the tears in her eyes then and forced himself to lower his voice.

“Why would you believe such a notion?” he asked, gently this time.

She brushed a hand against her cheek. “I know that some men do.”

“Well, not this man. Never. You’re all I want.”

To prove his point, he gently eased her back down on the bed. He kissed her gently and cupped her face in his hands. “I’ll never want another woman, Catherine.”

That doubt was still evident in her eyes, damn it. “But what if you no longer desire me?”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“This isn’t funny.” She sniffled.

“No. It’s ludicrous.” When she blinked in response, he dropped a kiss on her brow and grinned. “That will never happen, love. Even when we’re old and gray, I daresay you’ll still be able to set me on fire.”

She smiled up at him finally, a bright expression that caused his heart to do a little flip.

“Truly?” she asked.

“God, yes,” he answered. “You, darling, are stuck with me. For the rest of your life.”

“I love you, James,” she said, pulling his face down to hers.

James kissed her, hoping to convey his passion and high regard for her. Take a mistress? Odd that his wife would suspect his future unfaithfulness the day after Priscilla had sent him that note with her offer. Both women were wrong. He’d been completely truthful in his refusal yesterday.

And he’d never meant a promise more than the one he made Catherine today.

*     *     *

Nearly two weeks later, they prepared to go out for the evening. Although Parliament was open, signaling the start of the Season, most of the ton remained in the country through the end of the winter. Catherine was pleased and James apparently was as well, since they’d discussed how delightful it was that they could attend the theater and the opera without a maddening crush of people in attendance. After Easter, the true Season would begin, with its whirlwind of bashes and forced frivolity, which James told her he’d been so pleased to miss the previous year.

Paul and Michelle also returned to town early, as they had many speeches to prepare for their clients. That night, James and Catherine were to join them at the theater. Catherine couldn’t wait to share their wonderful news with them.

James emerged from the dressing room, clad in gray breeches topped with a silver waistcoat. “Sweetheart,” he said, hugging her from behind, “you look absolutely delicious.”

Catherine smiled at his choice of words. Her hair was piled atop her head, long curls falling to brush her shoulders. He pushed the tendrils aside and ran his lips over her skin, making her shiver.

She turned in his arms and favored him with a smile, placing her hands behind his neck. “Hello, husband.”

James kissed her, gently at first. He pulled her close and ravaged her mouth, causing her to gasp. His hands were all over her, touching and teasing her through her blush satin gown. When he lifted his head, he was grinning broadly.

“I’m so glad you’re no longer treating me like a piece of porcelain, James,” she said.

“After that first night, love, you gave me no choice.”

Her cheeks flamed. He’d nearly driven her mad with his gentle possession until she’d grabbed him and forced him deep inside her. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, he’d said. But now having gotten used to her condition, he held nothing back from her, much to the delight of both of them. Catherine clicked her tongue at him as she readjusted her gown, which he’d nearly worked down off her shoulders.

He walked over to the mantelpiece. “I’ve got something for you, love.”

He picked up a jeweler’s box of gold velvet and Catherine eyed him closely.

“James, what is this?”

“For you,” he said again, opening the box with a flourish.

She gasped as she saw the long strand of pearls, large and round and perfect. There were matching earrings within the box, as well. James withdrew the necklace and draped it over her. The pearls reached the swell of her breast and felt cool against her skin.

“James.” She gazed in the mirror. “These are breathtaking.”

“They look beautiful against your skin, Catherine,” he said, trailing his fingers over the round beauties.

He hesitated for a moment then slipped his hand into the bodice of her gown, cupping one breast. She gasped as he brushed his thumb over her nipple.

“James, we can’t,” she said without any real conviction. “We’ll be late.”

He lowered his head. “Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?” He ran his lips over her flesh. “Do you?” He pushed her bodice down and closed his mouth over her hardened nipple.

She closed her eyes in bliss. “No.” She breathed. “Don’t stop.”

James gently teethed her nipple as one hand worked its way under her skirts.

“James.” She sighed as his fingers caressed her through her drawers.

She placed her hand on him and felt him grow hard. He groaned as she gently stroked him. He was soon tangled in her skirts.

“Ah, hell,” he muttered.

With obvious reluctance, he released her. Catherine let out a whimper of protest and he let out a choking laugh.

“I want you, love,” he said, his voice deep. “But not this way.”

“Take me, James,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

He grabbed her hands and kissed them. “We have to pick up Leed and Michelle at their home,” he said. “If we’re late, your brother is certain to guess what kept us.”

“Yes, you’re right.” She sighed. “We must go, then.”

Catherine fixed her gown and pulled on her long satin gloves. Taking her elbow, James led her downstairs. He assisted her with her cloak, a thick wrap of deep rose with a large and graceful hood. He adjusted the front of his breeches and pulled on his greatcoat. “Thank God it’s cold out.” She smiled as they went out to the waiting carriage.

As soon as Paul and Michelle joined them in their carriage, they shared their news about the baby.

“Catherine!” Michelle squealed happily, hugging her tight. “How wonderful!”

Paul flashed a bright smile as he congratulated his friend and brother-in-law with a hearty slap on the back. “Quite expedient, brother,” he teased James. “I daresay you didn’t waste much time.”

“Never mind.” James shook his head, hiding the grin Catherine didn’t miss.

Talk in the carriage became quite animated as they made their way toward the theater.

They found the play quite enjoyable, one of Shakespeare’s comedies. After the performance, most of the theater crowd adjourned to the large and beautifully appointed lobby. Refreshments were set up at one end of the space and, after asking Catherine if she’d care for a cup of punch, James strode to that side of the room. She watched him as he went, a faint smile on her lips. Her sister-in-law’s voice soon drew her attention.

“Oh, Catherine,” Michelle began. “I’m so happy for you and Roberts.”

“Thank you,” Catherine said. “I can scarcely believe it myself.”

“And how did he take the news?” Paul teased.

She thought back to the comical shock on his handsome face, the love she’d seen shining in his eyes as he spoke of the coming babe.

“James was quite pleased,” Catherine answered with a genuine smile.

Over on the other side of the room, James waited patiently for the refreshments. The punch was ladled out by one of the elderly matrons who enjoyed being involved in the theater organization. James felt a small hand grasp his arm and turned with a smile, fully expecting Catherine to be at his elbow. He promptly lost that smile.

“Priscilla.”

“Hello, Roberts,” Lady Brookdale purred, her eyes running over him. “My, you look ever so handsome this evening.”

James extracted his arm from her clutching hand and took a step back from her. The widow, not to be deterred, stepped closer.

“I received your missive.” She pursed her lips in a practiced pout. “I must say I was quite disappointed with your response.”

James shrugged. “You should expect disappointment when you approach a happily married man,” he said in a low voice.

Priscilla visibly bristled at his harsh tone. She threw a glance over to where Catherine stood with Michelle, then looked back at James and sighed dramatically.

“I’ll say that Catherine Talbot is a pretty little thing, but—”

“Catherine Bradford,” James corrected in a firm voice. “Viscountess Roberts.”

“Um, yes,” Priscilla allowed with a cool nod. She grabbed his arm once more and leaned toward him. “She was innocent when you wed, Roberts,” she whispered. “Surely she can’t please you in the manner to which I’m capable.”

“I thought I made my meaning clear, Lady Brookdale.” James held his hands in fists at his side, anger coursing through him. “Don’t proposition me again.”

Once more pulling out of her grasp, he picked up two glasses of punch and returned to his wife.

Priscilla followed him with hungry eyes. A voice at her side broke through her reverie.

“Hello, love,” Waltham said.

Priscilla turned and flashed a smile at her friend and frequent bed partner. She sidled up close to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Thomas.” She sighed. “Whatever are you doing in society so soon after your wife’s unfortunate demise?”

Waltham laughed softly at her statement. “I couldn’t bear to stay in the country another moment,” he told her. “There were some pressing matters needing my attention.”

Priscilla cocked her head to the side as she flashed him a grin. “Were there no country girls willing to indulge your particular tastes, Thomas?”

Waltham’s pale eyes narrowed slightly. His tastes were quite vigorous, as she well knew.

He recovered his usual coolly handsome façade and smiled at her. “Not in the manner to which you indulge me, Priscilla,” he said in a low voice. “I saw you with him.” He flicked his head in James’s direction. “What did the ever-charming scoundrel have to say?”

Priscilla couldn’t keep her disappointment from her countenance. “I offered him a bit of sport.” She snorted. “The gentleman refused me without ceremony.”

“He’s married now, love.” Waltham chuckled. “Ah, but how could he resist charms such as yours?”

She clicked her tongue. “He seems content with that child.” She sneered. “Although I don’t know how she can possibly . . .”

Her voice trailed off as she caught Waltham’s eye roaming freely over Catherine’s form. The lust in his pale gaze angered her.

“Thomas,” she hissed. “What captivates you so?”

“God, she looks absolutely delectable,” he murmured.

Another swain fallen under that chit’s spell? No. She might not have Roberts in her bed yet, but she knew Thomas’s particular tastes. She wouldn’t let him think to practice them on the prim Catherine Talbot.

Priscilla straightened her shoulders and tugged firmly on Waltham’s arm. “Thomas, take me from here.”

Waltham turned back to her with a contemplative look on his face. “Take you?” he teased. “Just where is it you wish me to, um, take you?”

Priscilla felt her pulse race. Waltham was the most inventive lover she’d ever known. And if his methods sometimes left marks on her flesh the next day, she didn’t mind. Just the thought of his lean body poised above her. Behind her. Ooh.

She leaned toward him. “My place, dear boy,” she answered in a whisper.

Waltham’s lips curved in a slight smile as he gave her a nod. They departed the throng of theatergoers and went out into the chilly night.

*     *     *

Catherine sipped delicately from her glass of punch as the four of them discussed the more humorous aspects of the play. James’s rich laughter washed over her and she smiled in reaction.

“Paul,” Michelle said, drawing Catherine’s attention. “Isn’t that Waltham?”

Paul and James both turned to the wide glass doors leading out to the street. The thin man accompanying Lady Brookdale did indeed resemble Waltham, but from their particular vantage point, they couldn’t be certain.

“It can’t be,” Catherine said. “He shouldn’t be out in society so soon, should he, James?”

James shrugged, a dark look crossing his face. “If Waltham is indeed with Lady Brookdale, I couldn’t think of two people more deserving of each other.”

“But, if he—”

“There’s no telling what that bastard is capable of, Catherine,” he growled.

Catherine sensed his anger rising and placed her hand on his arm. He lost his scowl and smiled down at her. James’s jealousy where that man was concerned was something they seldom discussed after Lady Joan’s funeral. In silent agreement, they spoke no more of Waltham that evening, either.