Rogues and Ripped Bodices (35 page)

By late evening, the snow was at least six inches deep by
Alexander’s reckoning. Their families would not make it to them for Christmas
Eve. Emma had agreed she would not even wish them to try in such weather. They
would surely get trapped in the snow. Which meant they would be alone until the
snow thawed.

As she peered out of her
bedroom window, she wrapped her arms about her. That meant time alone to seduce
him. If only she really understood what she was doing. Starlight reflected off
the snow, making it glow, and it seemed the entire world had to be white. It
was magical. Like a fresh start. Washing away the previous world and starting
anew. Was there a chance they could too?

Alexander had wanted to kiss
her. And she had wanted to kiss him. He had charmed her with his excitement
about the tree, the way he seemed like a giddy little boy. Not to mention
watching him lift that tree with ease had sent the most delicious tingle
through her body as she watched his arms strain against his shirt. Then he had
lifted her. Oh goodness. She nearly swooned.

He had been hard against
her—his body and his arousal. He wanted her. Perhaps he had not visited with
any women this year and was in desperate need of release. Or maybe he saw her
as something more than his cold wife. She understood how people saw her, but
she knew of no other way to be. If she didn’t watch every word that came out of
her mouth, she was likely to blurt something foolish. 

The hope that Alexander saw
through her shyness and understood it was just that, burned bright but she
would be wise not to cling to that. No one had ever figured out that she was
not aloof but she simply didn’t know how to converse easily.

Drawing open her robe, she
chewed her lip as she eyed the slip of silk she wore. She had never owned
anything like it. It was red—a festive colour perhaps, but utterly scandalous.
It clung to her body and revealed the curve of her breasts. If her mother ever
saw it, she would declare her a whore.

But whore or not, she needed to
draw her husband into her bed somehow. If this didn’t work, she didn’t know
what would.

A footstep on the stairs made
her heart bound. She left her robe deliberately untied and drew open the door.
She had to meet him at the opportune moment. Several candles remained lit on
the console tables lining the hall, ensuring he saw her clearly enough.

Dinner had been pleasant
enough, but there had been no chance for her to make any sort of attempt at
seduction. She refused to leave anything to chance.

Emma counted his steps and when
he was on the final one, she slipped out of the door and walked leisurely down
the hallway as though heading to the stairs.

She paused when she saw him.
“Oh, Your Grace. I thought you were abed.” Emma winced at her sugary tone.

He froze, a hand curled around
the banister. “No.” His voice came out strangled.

“I was just going down to
the...” She trailed off when he began to move, swiftly, silently, like a wolf
stalking his prey.

Alexander came to stand in
front of her and his gaze raked her. The chilly hallway now felt as though it
was lit by a thousand fires. Her skin blazed and her breaths quickened.

“What are you doing out of your
bedroom?”

“I...I...” The excuse she had
conjured should he ask had flown from her mind. All that existed was a great
ache and a mist of need crowding her vision.

In his shirtsleeves, his collar
open, his too long hair tousled, he was everything she desired. Everything she
wanted. Now thoughts of conceiving a child seemed second place to simply having
him in her bed and between her thighs. She pressed them together to try to ease
the growing ache.

“You are very red,” he
murmured.

The words might have made her
giggle had they not been said with such seriousness or had his voice not
sounded thick and gravelly.

“I...” Oh Lord, could she say
nothing? Something, anything, to coax him into her bedroom. “It is silk.” Inwardly,
she groaned. That was the best she could come up with? “It feels nice a-against
my skin.”

“Does it indeed?” His gaze was
still transfixed on the article of clothing, if it could be called that. He
reached out and pressed a hand under the robe to cup her hip. “So it does.”

Emma released a soft moan. He
closed the gap, slipping his hand farther around her back and splaying his
fingers so they brushed her rear. She wore nothing beneath the chemise and he
must have felt as much as he drew in a harsh, audible breath.

Pressed against her was hard
muscle. Everywhere. Against her thighs, her breasts, her hips. And another
hardness too. It made her skin prickle with heat. She lifted her chin and...

“Excuse me, Your Grace.”

A soft curse came from
Alexander and he released her. They jumped back like children caught stealing
treats from the Christmas tree. Mr Hampton stood, looking severe, at the top of
the stairs.

“I saw the candles were still
lit and wanted to ensure they were put out.”

The duke nodded stiffly, and
Emma fought the desire to bury her head against his chest. No doubt her cheeks
were redder than her chemise.

“Right. Thank you, Hampton.”

Emma thought Alexander didn’t
sound grateful at all. He had wanted her, had he not? If only she was brave
enough to simply take his hand and lead him into her bedroom. But she was not.
Instead she offered him an apologetic smile and drew her robe around her waist.
Disappointment
flared in his eyes.

“It’s late. I should get to
bed. Goodnight, Mr Hampton. Goodnight, A-Alexander.” His name felt hot and
heavy on her tongue and when she saw the way desire lit his gaze once more, she
determined she would use it more frequently.

“Good night, Emma.” Raw need
echoed in his words.

“Goodnight, Your Graces.”

The butler’s disapproving stare
quickly doused any further ideas of trying to coax Alexander into her bed and
she scurried back to her room. Shutting the door, she pressed her back against
it and put both hands to her hot cheeks. To think, if Mr Hampton had not
interrupted, she might be drawing off her chemise and slipping into bed with
her husband.

She should have ignored the
butler and just done it. Oh, she wished she were braver.

***

Alex scowled at the white scenery as the footman, Jacoby,
tied his necktie. The man did an admirable job considering looking after him
wasn’t his duty, but it still aggravated him that his old valet was no longer
here. Not that he had needed the man much, but it was inconvenient for them
both. Surely Jacoby had better things to be doing?

The snow had stopped at some
point during the night, leaving drifts piled up on the windows. Snow weighted
the trees on the horizon and every now and then clumps dropped from the roof,
no doubt disturbed by the odd robin or some other creature, for the temperature
was too cold to allow for any melting.

He took a moment to eye his
reflection in the floor-length mirror. Damn the footman, why had he chosen him
a red and gold waistcoat? Now all he would think of all day was Emma in that
ridiculous slip of a...what in the devil was it? He’d never seen the likes of
it. Not that he really thought it ridiculous. Well, perhaps he did, but he also
though it enticing and riveting and all kinds of other words that might
summarise the way he had been taken under her spell. The way the red silk had
caressed her skin and revealed the curves of her breasts and hips...

He had to stop this or he was
going to spend the rest of the day as hard as a stone.

Bloody Mr Hampton. He should
have told the butler where to go. Preferably to his bedroom, far away from
them, while he saw to his wife. Emma had wanted him, he’d been sure of it.
Every inch of her body had said as much, as had the moan that had slipped from
her as he pulled her to him. He pushed a hand through his hair, mussing up the
fine job Jacoby had done of combing it. This was hardly the behaviour of a
woman with a lover waiting in the wings.

The footman slipped a cufflink
in through his shirt sleeve then set to work on the other. Alex eyed the man,
who was relatively young and handsome, though older than the man he had seen
Emma with. Damnation, he would start seeing potential lovers in every man if he
was not careful.

“Are you happy at Balmead,
Jacoby?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Why haven’t you left like the
others?”

He paused and released Alex’s
cuff. “I have a wife in the village.”

A wife. Alex tried not to grin
at the news.

“There would be no sense in me
leaving and I’ve worked here since I was a lad.”

“So you don’t wish for more
wages or a different job?”

Jacoby’s shoulder’s stiffened.
“Those who left went to the towns. Edinburgh, Glasgow, even York I believe.
It’s not uncommon now. A lot of the households are losing staff to the jobs in
the cities but it doesn’t appeal to me, and why should I? I earn enough to keep
me and my wife in comfort, and Her Grace keeps us well.”

“She looks after you then?”

“Of course, Your Grace. I doubt
many who left found a mistress as kind as she.”

The disapproving tone in the
footman’s voice told Alex he didn’t agree with anyone choosing to leave. Could
it be his staff simply wished to move on and it had nothing to do with Emma’s
mismanagement of the estate? He needed to look at the finances, and soon
really. Christmas Eve or not.

“Does the Her Grace have many
friends?”

“Friends, Your Grace?”

“Visitors? Does she spend time
out of the house much? Does she visit with people?”

“Not really, Your Grace.”
Jacoby looked a little flustered as he helped him slip his jacket on and
adjusted Alex’s necktie. “She is very busy. The duchess spends most of her time
in the library though she does visit the villagers when she can.”

Alex nodded and felt some of
his anxiousness slipping away. Servants knew everything. And Mr Hampton was not
the type to let ill behaviour slip past him. Surely if she was still seeing her
lover, there would be talk of it. Had she changed perhaps? Grown up? Emma
certainly didn’t seem the type to be frivolous and foolish in her behaviour
now, but then what had he ever really known of her? Nothing. He had proposed to
her because their families wanted the match and he deemed her attractive
enough. That had been the sum of his knowledge.

Sometimes, he could not help
but blame himself for the disaster that was their match. He should have taken
the time to get to know her before proposing marriage. He sighed and
straightened his jacket. And, yes, he really shouldn’t have disappeared at the
first sign of trouble. His only excuse was being inexperienced and young. Not
that a year counted as a huge amount of experience or time, but his travels had
certainly matured him and the company of the men at the Alpine Club had taught
him much.

“Thank you, Jacoby, that will
be all.”

The footman left and Alex took
one last look at his reflection. Mistakes had been made, many of them on his
behalf, but he would make up for that. If there really was no lover waiting
around, he might have a chance at making this a real marriage. It was Christmas
Eve, and he was going to seduce his wife.

He was surprised to see Emma already breakfasting when he
entered the dining room. She had arisen so late the previous day he assumed she
arose late most days. Behind the large dark mahogany table and in front of the
oppressive wood panelled wall, she appeared delicate, almost out of place. Too
fine for a dining room like this. He really had done her a disservice keeping
her shut away in Scotland for a year.

There was no red on her today,
no slip of silk, though she looked as beautiful as ever—if not more. When she
had become quite so beautiful to him, he wasn’t sure. Her attractiveness had
always been apparent, but he had regarded it with a cold kind of fascination.
Her normal rigid expression had always turned his heart to stone.

But today, his heart warmed at
the sight of her in another green gown. Trimmed with ribbons and with tiny
buttons down the front, it warmed her cool complexion, as did her smile. It was
genuine, he thought. Most of her behaviour towards him yesterday had been too.
Including her concern over him. It bolstered his courage.

“Good morning, did you sleep
well?”

No,
he was
tempted to say.
No I did not. I couldn’t stop thinking of you in that slip
of silk nor could I cease imagining peeling it away from you.

Instead, he smiled genially and
sat opposite her. “Very well, thank you.”

He spooned some sugar into the
cup already set out for him and helped himself to coffee. Breakfast was laid
out over the table so he piled some eggs and toast onto his plate. She eyed the
large plate of food with a twitch of her lips.

“Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“I suppose being out of doors
for much of yesterday has given you an appetite.”

Alex thought it a fine excuse
and nodded, but he’d always been one for eating a lot. It was a good thing he
was so active or he would be the size of a house. He nodded towards her plate.
“And what is your excuse?”

He let his hand hover over his
fork, cursing his thoughtlessness. Had he just insulted her? Yes, he probably
had. What had he been trying to say? That she ate like a man? Or that she ate
too much?

But then she laughed. He let
his hand drop to the fork and he dug into his eggs.

“I always did have a large
appetite, I shall admit that much, and I have no excuse like chopping down
trees.”

“Well, you did work hard on
decorating it.” He cast his gaze down the top half of her. “If you eat like that
all the time, you must tell me your secret.”

“M-my secret?” A flash of fear
darted across her face, making Alex’s insides twist.

“How you eat so much but stay
slender.”

Her shoulders sagged and her
smile was relieved. “Oh, yes, that. I don’t know really. My mother is slender,
I suppose, so I must take after her.”

Nodding, he stuffed the eggs in
his mouth for want of any response. For a moment the lightness and joviality
had been quite pleasant but then his mention of a secret had cloaked her
silence. She had one, he just knew it. Was it her lover? Something else? All
his hopes of pursuing a proper marriage had been dashed by that one word. If
she could not be honest or... or faithful, then what was the point? He might as
well get her with child and find some other mountain to climb.

“What are your plans for today,
Your Grace?”

And now he was back to being
Your
Grace
. The distance sat between them again, a chasm that could not be
bridged. Not while secrets sat between them anyhow.

“I’m going to look over the
accounts and settle some business. I’m aware I’ve been neglecting this estate.”

And her. But he didn’t say as
much. They both knew it, and though she might not know he was aware of her
lover, she couldn’t be so foolish as to believe this was how a marriage should
be. Yes, plenty of married couples—particularly those with arranged
marriages—spent much time apart, but the husband never usually ran for the
hills before at least getting his wife with child.

“I have looked after things to
the best of my ability,” she said tightly.

“I’m sure you have.”

“You really don’t need to look
everything over. Things are quite sound.”

“Yet my staff are leaving and
the fires go unlit.”

“It was their choice to leave,
Your Grace,” she said softly. “I would not stop them. And they were my staff
too.”

“You could have replaced them,”
he snapped.

“Why? When there was only me to
look after? It seemed a mighty waste.”

Alex lowered his fork and
curled a hand around his cup of coffee. He took a sip and paused to relish the
warmth and bitter tang. Already it seemed to clear the ache in his head and the
gritty sensation of too little sleep. This was not how one was meant to go
about seducing his wife. If he went around accusing her of mismanagement, he
would never get her into bed and he would remain heirless forever.

“I’m sure you have done what
you can,” he replied carefully. “But it is still my estate and I should like to
check things over. I will not have anyone accusing me of neglect.”

“Very well.” Emma dropped her
gaze but not before he saw a flicker of worry in her eyes. She struggled to lie
to him, he noticed, which again had him doing battle with his beliefs of her
infidelity. Something was amiss, but he wasn’t so sure it was to do with the
fellow he had seen her embracing. So what in the devil was it?