Terri Brisbin (5 page)

“I did not mean it as a challenge, sir,” she began. He watched her eyes light with a mischief he had not seen recently, and she nodded to Parker. “But it is a fair statement of my abilities.”

Adrian walked to where she sat. “It would seem the only
fair
thing to do is to offer Parker the chance to defend his honor. Rather than an appointment at dawn, would you be willing to settle for billiards after dinner?”

“Actually, I have an engagement for dinner this evening. Could we play later?” Miranda looked at Parker for an answer.

“Are you having guests or going somewhere?” So
used to having separate schedules and social engagements, Adrian had no idea of hers.

“The rector and his wife are coming here, Windmere. You are welcome, of course.” She had not hesitated, so he felt the invitation was genuine. He also had not known that she was on social terms with Reverend Grayson and his wife. “I did not ask because I did not want to interfere any more than I have with your business here.”

He almost answered with a quick excuse, but she turned her gaze on Parker then and he was not certain he wanted his friend there without him being present, too.

“And you, as well, Parker. You might enjoy meeting the Graysons.”

Parker turned a bit pale and shook his head. “I appreciate the invitation, of course, but meeting with a parson is not my idea of entertainment.” He shot Adrian a look that implored
Help me out of this situation,
and Adrian laughed.

“I would enjoy that. Shall we plan on holding the challenge at, say, nine this evening?”

Miranda smiled and looked from him to Parker and back. “Nine it is, then.” She stood and so did Parker. “I will not keep you any longer, Windmere.” With a nod, she picked up the book on the table and walked back to the house.

She had just closed the door when the coughing erupted. Deep spasms racked Adrian’s chest and, as he turned away from the gazebo, he groped in his jacket
and waistcoat to find the small bottle of syrup that usually quieted them. Tugging off the small cap, he leaned his head back and poured some of the thick, brown concoction into his mouth, then swallowed. Lowering his head, he looked into the face of his friend. In his haste, Adrian had forgotten all about Parker.

A few more coughs escaped before he felt his chest loosen and calm. Searching for words to make light of his symptoms, Adrian opened and closed his mouth. To his surprise, it was Parker who spoke first—in a tone much too serious for a lighthearted rogue of his nature.

“Your cough has worsened?”

“It is just the flowers. Hay fever, the physicians are calling it,” Adrian said, trying to brush aside any concerns.

“No, Adrian. It has worsened. I have noticed it lately. You have more of these spells and I have witnessed you drink from that bottle more times now than even a few months ago.”

Startled at the familiarity, Adrian shook his head and tried to deny the assertion. “It is just this time of year.”

Parker walked closer and spoke in a quiet voice. “I know there is more to this than you willingly will admit. Just know that I am here for you if you need anything.”

His gut tightened as he realized the importance of this. Parker had noticed the changes. Who else had?

“Do not add disclosure to your list of concerns. We are in each other’s pockets. I could not help but notice. Others who see you occasionally have not.”

Adrian turned back and looked at the path that Miranda had taken.

“The duchess is another matter altogether,” Parker added.

“What do you mean?” Had he given himself away that night when he’d been drunk and rambling? Although Thompson assured him nothing had been heard by the servants or the duchess, he was not so certain.

“I had an opportunity to get to know her more during our travels here. I think she senses something is wrong and does not know what to do about it.” Parker stepped away. “
Is
something wrong?”

Not ready or willing to part with the secret yet, he simply changed the subject. “Anderson is waiting inside for me. Will I see you at dinner?”

The dismissal was effective. They both took a polite step back and nodded. Turning away, Adrian felt some measure of guilt clawing at him. After too many years spent distancing himself from friends and family, as was befitting someone in his station of life, his mother would say, he now did not know how to bridge those distances.

He returned to his study and remained there, closed up with Anderson, reviewing the remaining papers and documents so important to his demise and what would follow. When his solicitor excused himself with plans for a walk and then a dinner tray in his room, Adrian went and prepared for dinner. Anticipation within him grew as he thought about the evening that lay ahead.

M
iranda was a bit different in recent days and something about that difference made the evening to come one he more eagerly anticipated. He dressed more casually than he would have in town, and walked down to the drawing room at the time Thompson told him the duchess expected the rector’s arrival.

Adrian walked in and obviously interrupted a conversation in progress. They stood and greeted him formally and then took their seats again. From the tone and subject of the talk, it was clear that the rector, his wife and the duchess were well acquainted. Adrian accepted a glass of claret from the butler and stood off to one side, ready to observe before participating. Parker’s arrival surprised them all.

“Lord Parker! You did come.” Miranda stood and approached his friend. “Let me make you known to the Graysons. Reverend Grayson and Mrs. Grayson,
this is Baron William Parker. Lord Parker, the Graysons.”

The Graysons greeted Parker, who looked as though he’d been forced to attend, and everyone took a seat. Adrian still stood and sipped from his wine. A footman entered and whispered something to Miranda, making her smile. She stood, as they all did then, and announced that dinner was ready. Parker offered his arm to Miranda and she placed her hand on his sleeve. Adrian did the same with Mrs. Grayson, leaving the rector without a lady to escort, and they all walked into the hall.

Once they were seated and the first course served, conversation flowed as freely as the wine and ale did. Adrian learned more about Miranda during that meal than he had in years. She served on many of Mrs. Grayson’s committees and endeavors to help the people of the village. She spent most of her time while here in the country on those tasks. She preferred to be here rather than in London. Not only did she play billiards, but she favored several card games as well as fishing in the lakes and streams of Windmere Park.

With Miranda seated next to him rather than across, he took an opportunity when Parker and the rector were discussing something of interest to both of them, and leaned over to speak quietly to her.

“I cannot imagine that my mother knows about your proclivity for fishing and billiards.”

Miranda paled a bit at his words. “I do not believe
that she does. I try to keep certain facets of my life out of her view.”

“Still critical, then?” he asked.

“Always.”

Miranda began to turn back to her food when he asked another question. “Then why do you visit her each week? Surely you do not enjoy being in her company?” He knew of no one, from his long deceased father to the now highly touted Miss Stevenson, who could tolerate his mother’s overwhelming ways.

“It is one of the duties I carry out as Duchess of Windmere. She has invited me for a weekly appointment and I attend. Like so many other obligations, not one of my choosing, but mine nonetheless.”

In other words, no matter how unpleasant or odious the duty, she would strive to hold up her end of the bargain. He had never thought about what she had been going through these last years as he’d been learning and taking over the reins of one of the largest and now most profitable estates in England. With each passing week and month, she’d seemed more self-assured and busy, so he’d never pursued any explanation. His mother had confirmed that Miranda was applying herself to the tasks facing her.

He leaned back in his chair and continued eating, although he would never be able to identify any of the foods he put in his mouth. He could only suspect that this change within him was brought about by the knowledge of his impending death. If he had not been forced
to examine his conscience and his life, he would never have comprehended how Miranda’s own life was so different for her.

She would have gone on, fulfilling her duties, attending to the call of his mother, living a separate life, and he would have been completely unaware.

And now? Now that changes to their lives, to their marriage even, would matter not? Was it fair to her to let her go on believing that she would continue as duchess?

“Now it is Windmere’s turn to look ill.”

Parker’s voice broke into Adrian’s reverie. “Me? Do I look ill?” He tried to shake off the discomfort his friend’s perusal had caused. “I am well.”

“The duchess did the same thing last evening. Turned pea-green and looked like she would topple into her soup bowl.” Parker then grimaced at the words he’d chosen and nodded to Miranda. “Beg your pardon, madam, but you did.”

“I assure you all that I am well, and I thank you for your concern. Now, if everyone is finished, shall we move to the drawing room for dessert and coffee? Or tea if the ladies wish?” Adrian stood. “I suspect that Parker will need something more fortifying to prepare him for his challenge.”

The rector laughed. “I do not approve, as a whole, of games of chance, but having seen the duchess’s abilities firsthand, I shall look on this as a defense of honor.”

Parker appeared irritated now.

The Graysons, claiming the lateness of the hour and
the journey back to their home, took their leave before the announced match, so Adrian found himself once more to the side, watching his wife. She moved gracefully around the billiard table, sighting and lining up her shots and leaning over to shoot. He found himself watching the arch of her neck, the curve of her hips and the way she blew out of her pursed lips to move the single curl that seemed to land in her eyes no matter how many times she tucked it away.

Soon, she held him in thrall. His body reacted as though he’d not had a woman in months. His groin tightened and he shifted his position to ease it. Her throaty laughter and light but not inappropriate jesting with Parker were added enticements. Adrian had not thought to feel this kind of passion for her again, not when their relations had become routine and he had found another woman who kindled fires within him.

Now, his wife had him burning to bury himself in her warm, willing body and seek some satisfaction—or solace?—within her. If he had not thought himself changed by the revelations of the last week, he knew it now.

Bringing his attention back to the game, he watched as Parker struggled to keep his lead after several skillful shots by Miranda. She was about to win. Parker was no longer taking the game and the win for granted, and his face became red as he tried harder to stay ahead of her. The last shot was hers and both men waited to see her take the win in this challenge. Adrian had no doubt
that Parker, the aplomb necessary to win now dwindling, would be a gracious loser. He hoped.

Miranda took her place and bent over to get closer to the ball. With a slight hesitation, she drew back her stick and then sent it skidding on the felt, barely touching the ball, which spun several times but did not move any closer to the target. Her turn over, Parker jumped into position, made his shot and shouted loudly as the ball dropped into the net under the corner pocket of the table.

“By Jove! That was a wonderful game, Duchess. I had no idea that you would be such a piece of competition.” Parker strode over to her side, lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “My compliments on a game well played!”

Adrian could no longer hold in his mirth. Parker either had no idea of how close he’d come to disaster or was ignoring it. Laughing loudly, Adrian walked to her side, lifting her now-released hand to his own mouth. “My compliments as well, Miranda.” He kissed it and then added, “For allowing my deluded friend to believe he won!”

Miranda, he could see, fought a smile and stuttered out some words, but Parker growled in indignation. “Allowing? Allowing me to win? I do not believe it!”

“My lord, the win was obvious to all of us. Skillful play, as you said.”

Adrian noticed that she never said it was Parker who’d played skillfully. A nice evasion and just the thing to save a man’s self-esteem. She smiled then and
the heat rose in him. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her mouth and to touch his lips to hers, not something they did often.

“Parker, if you will excuse us? Her Grace mentioned that she would like to retire immediately after your game.”

He waited for her to deny his words, but she did not. Instead she nodded at Parker and handed her stick to the footman to return to the rack on the wall. Then, as Adrian held out his arm, she took it and walked by his side from the room. Not certain of the reason for his actions, he said not a word as they proceeded up the stairs and down the corridor that led to their chambers.

So many things ran through his mind, but his body knew only one—he wanted her. If she felt the growing tension, she did not reveal the fact. She walked at his side, matching her step to his, until they reached her door. He turned to face her, wondering what her reaction would be to him visiting her bed on other than a Thursday evening.

“My thanks for not embarrassing him too badly, Miranda,” he said, smiling. “Parker’s mistake was in underestimating you.”

“Was that a compliment, Windmere?” she asked, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Searching his face, her eyes narrowed as she continued. “Or do you feel duped, as well?”

“I do feel hoodwinked, now that you speak of it. I had no idea of your conquests here,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I had no idea of your abilities in other than so
cial situations.” He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. Her eyes closed for a moment as though savoring his caress, and then she stared at him with a sort of terrified fascination. “I had no idea of the enticing woman you’d become while I was looking away.”

He slid his hand around her neck and brought her closer. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for any sign that his attentions were unwelcome, and then claimed the lips and mouth of a woman he’d known and yet not known for years. Her mouth softened beneath his, much as her body did when he joined with her, and she leaned into him as he tasted and kissed her, over and over.

Adrian took another step, bringing him in close contact and placing her between the closed chamber door and his body. Now he held her face with both his hands and covered her lips with his. He felt her hands creep up to his arms, not in deterrence, but in encouragement. A noise from inside the room startled them both into realizing where they stood, and he released her slowly from his grasp, taking several more kisses from her caress-swollen lips.

“Your pardon, Miranda. I…” he began, but could come up with no words of true apology. He wanted her, he wanted her now, and the fact that they were standing in the hall within sight of anyone, any servant or guest who chose to walk there, be damned! He cleared his throat and started again. “I would join you in your chambers. If you have no objections?”

Would she refuse him? He would never force him
self or his attentions on her, but prayed in the next several seconds that she would not rebuff his request.

“If you would give me a few minutes to prepare, I will be ready for your…” Now it was her turn to trip over her words, and he lightened inside. She looked away and then back at him. As he watched, the tip of her tongue slid out and moistened her lips as though they had gone dry. A pulsation of desire racked his body and he found that his breathing was becoming too quick.

“I shall visit you in a quarter hour, if that is acceptable?” How he forced the words out, he would never know.

She nodded and then reached for the doorknob. He did not move as she stepped backward into her room, closing the door in a swift but quiet movement. He wrestled with the passion that flowed through him and leaned against the wall next to her door, waiting to regain some measure of control before moving away.

A quarter hour was not too long a wait.

Miranda closed the door and rested her head on it, not daring to turn toward her waiting maid. She knew her cheeks were flushed and that her lips were swollen from Adrian’s attentions. But the worst, the absolute worst, was that her breasts were also swollen and her nipples tight and hard, and she could feel the friction of them rubbing against her shift, above the stays that held her breasts in place.

Unwilling to expose such a condition and even more
unwilling to think about what it meant, she took a slow, deep breath and waited for her body to calm.

It did no such thing.

Instead it rebelled. The reactions to his kisses flowed through her, bringing heat and desire to all kinds of places in her body. And she decided that her sensitive breasts were not the worst, after all.

That place between her thighs, where Adrian would join their bodies, now throbbed with heat and moisture in anticipation. Even though she tried to remain detached from her feelings, Miranda knew she could not.

“Your Grace? Are you well?” Fisk’s voice was filled with concern. “Is there something amiss?”

Nothing that His Grace between her legs would not solve.

Miranda stood back from the door, turned and nodded. “I need to wash up. His Grace will be here shortly.”

Although she tried to sound matter-of-fact, she knew she’d failed when Fisk let out a surprised gasp. But her practiced maid recovered much more quickly than she did.

“Here now, Your Grace,” Fisk said as she began to pour some water into a basin, which she placed on the table near the fireplace. “Let me help you with your dress first.”

In a few efficient minutes, Miranda was undressed, washed and dressed in a soft linen night rail and silk dressing gown. In spite of her objections, Fisk unpinned her hair, and it fell in loose waves over her shoulders. Then her maid opened the door to her bedchamber,
and Miranda found herself standing before her bed with a candle in her hand.

Walking to the side table, she placed the candlestick there and lifted the covers to climb in. Some small sound alerted her to Adrian’s presence and she saw him standing next to the door that connected their chambers.

He wore a dressing gown, but she could see no trousers and or shirt beneath it. Her body reacted to the sight of the curly hair on his chest, which she knew would rub against her breasts as he thrust inside of her. Crossing her arms over her own chest to try to rid herself of such sensations, she waited for his approach.