Rule's Bride (18 page)

And then he kissed her. He tunneled his fingers into her hair, knocking loose the pins, and her blond curls tumbled around her shoulders. Cupping her head in his hands, he ravished her mouth, kissing her long and deep.

“Luke,” she whispered, opening to him, feeling the slick glide of his tongue and the hot surge of desire she had felt that night in the library.

Luke just kept kissing her, claiming her mouth one way and then another, taking her with his tongue, taking her as if he couldn't get enough.

Long, deep kisses. Short, burning kisses. Wild, wet kisses. She couldn't think, could barely stay on her feet. She hardly noticed when her bodice fell open, baring her breasts. She moaned as he bent his head and his teeth grazed her nipple.

More clothes disappeared. His hands were everywhere, smoothing over her bare skin, molding and caressing her breasts, stroking, gliding, setting her on fire.

“Luke…” she repeated as he lifted her, naked, onto the mattress, then left her to remove his own clothes. Tall and solidly muscled, he strode back to her, the man part of him long and thick and standing high against his flat belly.

“Never believe I don't want you,” he said as he came up over her. “I've never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

She whimpered as he moved above her and his narrow hips settled between her legs. He claimed her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss that turned deep and hot, then laved and caressed her breasts, driving her mad with need. She could feel his hardness probing for entrance.

“I'll try not to hurt you.”

Caroline moistened her kiss-swollen lips. “I don't care if it hurts. I just want this madness to end.”

He chuckled softly and kissed her, then his hand found her softness and he began to stroke her. “You're so hot and wet. That means you're ready for me.”

She bit her lip and squirmed beneath him, wanting more. His fingers moved inside her and she fought to keep from crying out. She wanted to beg him, weep for what seemed just out of reach.

“Easy, love. We'll get there, I promise.”

She felt the thickness of his arousal beginning to ease inside her, stretching her, filling her. And still she wanted more.

“Oh God, Luke, please.” Her fingers dug into his powerful shoulders and she arched upward. At the same time, Luke surged forward, seating himself to the hilt. Caroline cried out, and Luke froze.

“Bloody hell.” His neck muscles strained with his effort at control. “I'm sorry, love, truly. I tried to go slow but…”

Caroline pressed a finger against his lips. “It's better now. I like the way you feel. I want the rest, Luke, I want it all.”

Luke's breathing quickened. He made a growling sound low in his throat and kissed her softly. Then the kiss turned wild and Luke began to move. Each thrust carried her higher, closer to the edge. Her body tightened. It was as if the flood-gates opened and there was no stopping the deluge of passion, the onslaught of pleasure. For long seconds, she soared, floated, absorbed the wonder, wished it never had to end.

Luke's muscles tightened as he followed her to release. Seconds later, she felt his lips against her forehead. Lifting himself from above her, he settled on the mattress beside her and eased her into his arms.

“You're my wife now, Carrie. I don't mean to let you doubt it again.”

Caroline closed her eyes and nestled against him.

Inwardly she smiled. Making love with Luke was so wonderful it almost made up for having to marry him.

L
ily insisted on holding a ball for the newly wed couple, a lavish gala at the duke's recently completed town mansion. Violet imagined the duchess wanted to halt the wagging tongues and help smooth the way for the disgraced pair's return to Society.

In a class where marriages were mostly agreed to for the sake of money and power, it was less difficult to forgive two people fortunate enough to make a love match. And though Violet knew the truth, that neither party had wished to wed, by all outward appearances, Caroline and Luke were in love.

And tenderhearted Lily was among those who wanted them to be happy.

Standing beneath the tinkling crystal prisms of an overhead gas chandelier, Violet scoffed. Neither Luke nor Rule was the sort of man to fall in love. And oddly enough Caroline was deeply afraid of the emotion. She had witnessed her parents' unhappy marriage, the shouting and deliberate cruelty, the heart-wrenching abandonment, and Caroline wanted no part of it.

For Violet, marriage and children were something she
had yearned for long before her father died. In her dreams she had wed a man she loved who loved her in return. It wasn't merely desire that held them together.

With Jeffrey, she might have had a chance for that kind of marriage. Now, she was no longer sure Jeffrey's love would have been enough.

The mirrored walls of the ballroom glittered in crystal and gold, reflecting the light of the chandeliers and the ornate gilded sconces. Rule's brother Reese and Reese's wife, Elizabeth, were there, as well as his aunt Agatha, Countess of Tavistock, whom Violet had met for the first time only a few days ago.

She flicked a glance at the small group around her. Silver-haired and frail, Lady Tavistock had begun a conversation with Elizabeth, who looked elegant in sapphire silk, her raven curls gleaming. Caroline was dancing with Luke, and Rule had begun a conversation with Charles Whitney.

The two men started toward the door leading into the hallway, headed for the billiard room. Their voices raised a bit as they discussed the fine points of the upcoming sale, which hadn't yet been settled.

The music swelled, a lovely Viennese waltz. As Rule disappeared out of sight into the hallway, Violet returned her attention to Caroline and Luke, watching as they whirled around the dance floor. She couldn't help noticing the way Luke held his wife, his gaze locked with hers, his hunger barely disguised.

Wishing Rule had asked her to dance, she turned at the sound of masculine footfalls, her heart lifting at the thought that he might have returned. Instead, Jeffrey's rich baritone reached her.

“I need to speak to you, Violet. It's important.”

She didn't want to talk to him. She wanted to forget
what they had once meant to each other. But she couldn't ignore him. She had caused him enough pain already.

“We can't speak here.”

“I thought we might walk out on the terrace.”

His warm brown eyes beseeched her. He had traveled all the way from America to find her. He had loved her, perhaps loved her still. Her heart squeezed. How could she ignore his simple request?

She glanced around the ballroom. Rule was gone. Everyone else was busily conversing. She nodded her agreement and Jeffrey led her the short distance to the French doors, out onto the terrace.

The night was mostly clear, though a bank of clouds lurked in the distant moonlight, promising a later storm. Several stars shone among the few scattered clouds, twinkling in the sky above the guests who had wandered outside the house.

She turned as they reached the balustrade. “What is it, Jeffrey?”

Golden-haired and handsome, he stood in the light of the torches burning at the edge of the garden.

“I can't stop thinking about you, Violet. I can't stop worrying about you. I need to know, dearest, do you love him? Are you happy?”

Violet gently touched his arm. “Oh, Jeffrey, if only it were that simple.”

He caught her gloved hand and brought it to his lips. “It could be. If you would just say the word, we could leave England together. We could return to Boston and make a life for ourselves.”

“You are saying I should obtain a divorce.”

“I suppose you would have to, but it could be done discreetly.”

Violet shook her head. “I can't do that, Jeffrey.” Even
as she said the words, her heart warned that divorcing Rule might be the only way she would ever have the kind of life she wanted. Rule didn't love her. Sooner or later, he would tire of her.

Emotion tightened her chest. For weeks she had told herself she didn't love him, and because that was so, she could be married to him and still protect her heart. In that moment, looking into Jeffrey's handsome face, she recognized the truth.

Already, she was more than half in love with Rule. And if he grew tired of her, she would suffer heartbreaking pain.

Jeffrey's voice ended her musings. “Are you certain, Violet? Are you sure this is what you want?” The torch-light flickered, lighting his features, and she saw the yearning there.

“I'm certain, Jeffrey. My place is here with my husband.” It was a kindly lie for his sake. She wasn't the least bit certain. “I—I had better go back inside before someone comes looking for me.”

“Of course.” Jeffrey bowed politely, but the bitterness was clear in his tone. “Take care of yourself, dearest.”

Violet made no reply, just lifted her lavender skirts and hurried back into the house, grateful to escape.

 

Rule left the billiard room where he and Charles Whitney had gone in the hopes of a casual game and an easy resolution to the last of the obstacles in closing the sale.

Both had enjoyed the chance to play. Unfortunately, a rather vocal discussion had ensued in regard to the new designs for the small pocket pistol Griffin currently manufactured.

“I am not in favor of the changes you've made,” Whitney said. “I don't believe I should have to pay for them.”

“As you know, the changes have already been implemented. The new weapons have already been put in production.”

Whitney cast him a cool, assessing glance. “Perhaps the problem lies not in the designs, but in the higher offer I heard you received.”

It was true. Both Montgomery and Stanfield had increased their offers, but neither Rule nor Violet was interested. As far as they were concerned, a deal had been struck with Whitney and unless something changed, the company would soon be his.

“That isn't the problem,” Rule said. “Your offer stands.”

The conversation continued with no resolution. Rule finally suggested the sale be postponed until they could reach a suitable agreement on the designs.

Whitney frowned. Then he sighed. “All right, we'll do it your way. I want Griffin, as you well know.”

Rule smiled and nodded. “All right, then.” The discussion ended and so did the game, and the men walked away friends.

Satisfied that all was well, Rule left the billiard room in search of Violet, surprised to discover how much he had missed her. Every day they were together, she breached his defenses a little more, burrowed a little deeper into his heart.

It was extremely disconcerting.

He knew nothing of loving a woman. In truth, he'd had little use for women over the years. Bedding them was one thing. Enjoying any sort of relationship beyond that had never entered his mind.

But Violet was different.

Special.

He found himself seeking her out at the oddest times for no real reason at all. He wanted her companionship, her
friendship. It was a concept that was new to him and one he wasn't certain he approved.

On top of that was the not-so-small matter of his unrelenting desire for her. Unlike the women he had known in the past, making love to Violet only made him want her more. He wasn't sure why, but his physical lust for her seemed to grow instead of fade.

As he strode down the hall, Rule's shoulders tightened. He knew nothing of love and he didn't want to. Even years after his mother's death, his father had not recovered from her loss. The duke had been so deeply in love with Amanda Dewar he had withdrawn into his own personal hell. He had ignored his youngest son, leaving Rule's two brothers and a nanny to raise him.

Loving someone that much was definitely not for him.

Proceeding along the hall toward the ballroom, he had almost reached the entrance when he caught sight of a statuesque brunette with lovely blue eyes approaching from the opposite direction—Juliana Markham, Lady Fremont.

“My lord,” she said with a smile that tilted her lush pink lips. “I've been looking for you. I was hoping we might have a word in private.”

Uneasiness settled over him. He wasn't quite sure why. “Of course. May I ask in what regard?”

“Your friend, Lucas Barclay, mentioned you are currently in the investment market. I would like to speak to you about some properties acquired by my late husband I think you might find interesting.”

“All right.”

Rule led her farther down the hall into Royal's study and quietly closed the door. “Would you care for something to drink?” He moved to the sideboard, suddenly feeling the need for a brandy.

“Thank you, no, I am fine.”

He lifted the lid off a crystal decanter and poured himself a glass. “You mentioned investments?”

“Yes. Your friend Luke was an associate of my husband's. He made some investment suggestions that paid off handsomely for the earl. Since I am trying to liquidate some of Lord Fremont's assets, Luke mentioned you might be interested in looking at some of the properties that are going to be sold.”

“I might be.” As Rule took a sip of his drink, Lady Fremont moved closer, so close he caught the scent of her perfume.

Before Violet had arrived in London, he would have pursued the invitation he read in the lady's blue eyes. Tonight, he simply wanted to be out of what could turn into an embarrassing situation.

“I might be interested,” he repeated, removing the hand she had rested on his lapel. “But I would have to discuss the matter with my wife.”

One of her sleek dark eyebrows went up. “Somehow I got the impression you were a man who made his own decisions.”

He ignored the barb. “For the most part, I am. But Violet and I are business partners as well as husband and wife. If you will have your solicitor send the proposals over to my office, I'll be happy to have a look at them.”

“Perhaps I should bring them over myself.”

Rule set his glass down on the desk. “I don't think that would be a good idea.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Her full lips curved seductively. “You intrigue me, my lord. I've seen you watching me—it is not without some interest.”

He had to admit he had noticed her. What man wouldn't? But it didn't mean what she thought it did.

“You're a beautiful woman. A man would be a fool not to notice.”

“And you are no fool. I'll send the information. Perhaps sometime in the future, we might get together to discuss it. Good night, my lord.”

He made a faint bow of his head. “Good night, my lady.”

The moment she was gone, Rule released a breath. He couldn't remember a time he had ever turned down such a blatant offer from such a desirable woman.

It bothered him and yet, now that he was married to Violet, he couldn't imagine any other course.

Leaving the study, Rule went in search of his wife.

 

Violet stood next to Lily in a group that included Elizabeth, Lady Tavistock, Annabelle Greer and her friend, Sabrina Jeffers, the stunning blonde daughter of the Marquess of Wyhurst.

Violet was glad the chatter of so many women made it unnecessary for her to speak. At the moment, her thoughts were still outside the ballroom, her heart twisting as she stood in the corridor outside the duke's study. As she watched Rule and the Countess of Fremont disappear inside and quietly close the door.

Rule had yet to reappear.

Violet thought of what had gone on between Caroline and Lucas Barclay behind closed doors the night of the soiree, and her heart clenched.

Was Rule making love to the gorgeous brunette? Several times during the evening, Violet had noticed the woman tracking his movements around the ballroom. And once she had noticed his gaze fixed on her.

It had been weeks since her arrival. Rule had a reputation for tiring of women easily. He said he was no longer interested in Lady St. Ives and Violet believed him. But the lovely brunette had recently arrived in London. Did she pose a fresh challenge Rule could not resist?

She looked up to see him approaching. He had been gone for some time yet his hair was neatly combed and his clothes looked unruffled. The woman, Lady Fremont, was nowhere to be seen.

Violet swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Perhaps they had merely planned a rendezvous instead of acting on their passions. Perhaps his infidelity was yet to occur.

She managed a serene, unconcerned expression as he reached her side.

“I've been looking for you,” he said brusquely. “Come. It's time for us to leave.” Though Violet was more than ready to go, there was something in his voice that gave her pause.

“I'll need my cloak.”

“The carriage waits out front. I'll retrieve your cloak as we leave.”

His expression was hard as he caught her arm and escorted her rather firmly to the door. She had no idea where his dark mood had come from and she really didn't care. She just wanted to go home. Apparently Rule felt the same.

Draping her cloak around her shoulders, he led her to the carriage, helped her climb in, then seated himself on the opposite side.

“We should have bid good-night to our hosts,” she said into the darkness lit only by a single brass lamp.

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “We'll send them a note in the morning.”

He said no more and neither did she. Her mind was on
the brunette and what might have happened in the study. She was surprised to discover she felt more hurt than angry. If Rule wanted the countess or any other woman, there was only one thing she could do about it.