The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (16 page)

She sat down
tentatively on the edge of the rocking chair, hesitated for a few
moments then began, “I read in the newspaper yesterday about a
novel that came out anonymously at the beginning of the year. It’s
called
Frankenstein or a Modern
Prometheus
.”

“I read it.”

“You did?” Her
voice rose sharply in surprise. She was pleased to have found
something that interested him. “Oh, you remembered!”

He looked a bit
bewildered at the realization. “So I did. Maybe talking about
sundry news items and events will help me remember.”

“Do you remember the
story?”

“Some of it. If I
recall correctly, it was about a gentleman, who puts a human being
together by using excavated material from graves and even abattoirs.”
He grimaced. “Rather gruesome. Naturally, it takes a very wrong
turn in the end.”

“It is causing a lot
of talk, both for and against. What interested me was how the tone of
the criticism changed, once it was claimed to be written by a woman.”

“A woman wrote that
book?” He sounded surprised.

“Possibly.” She
paused to gauge his reaction. “Did you think it well written?”

“I think I did.” He
rubbed the back of his head where he’d hit it and winced. “I seem
to recall thinking it was different but held my interest to the very
end.”

“Some of the critics
are discounting it, now that they think it might have been written by
a woman.” She kept her tone neutral, not wanting to reveal her
opinion on the matter.

A wicked grin split his
face. “You believe women are underestimated? Must I expect you to
be forever championing women’s rights, my dear?” He chuckled.
“Did I know this about you before we wed?”

“I never thought of
myself in that way but, having lived with two brothers and a father,
I do believe women are just as capable as men, at least when physical
strength isn’t involved. Like in the arts, for instance. We… they
should be given the same chances and respect as men.” She glanced
at him warily. If he disagreed, she would be sorely disappointed.

He laughed. “I do
believe I have a little rebel for a spouse.” He leaned forward and
wound a curl of her hair around his finger. “I like that.” He
tugged on it, gently drawing her closer, nose to nose, to whisper,
“Shall we be rebellious together, my darling?”

She had no need to ask
what kind of rebellion he was suggesting. Her hand reached to touch
his cheek and she gazed into his bright, magical eyes. She felt
herself melting into a warm puddle of pure emotion. At his indrawn
breath, she snatched her hand back, thinking she’d hurt him, but he
captured it with his and held it there.

“I like it when you
touch me.”

Hot color reddened her
cheeks.

“And your blush is
delightful. I can see why I was smitten.” With their joined hands,
he drew her face nearer. “Ah, that’s better. Now I can look deep
into your beautiful brown eyes and plumb the secrets of your soul.”

She trembled at his
tenderness, but shook with fear at the threat such knowing could
pose.

“You have the face of
an angel.” He laughed at the grimace she made. “Not the saintly
kind. This angel,” he tapped his index finger on her nose, “has
an impish side.”

A frisson snaked from
her tip to her toes. His words, his warmth, his touch… all
enthralled her. Forcing herself to respond in the same playful way,
she retorted, “Really, sir–”... at his warning look, she
changed it to “Reed. That’s not very flattering, if that was what
you were aiming for.”

“But it is meant as
the greatest of compliments, my dear. I sense I have never
appreciated ‘saintly’. I am quite certain my taste runs to a
woman who has a naughty side.” He leaned forward until his forehead
rested against hers. “And if it didn’t, then I can only say
‘Bravo!’ for the knock on my head that has brought me to my
senses.”

Tally laughed, then,
covered her mouth. She
never
laughed aloud. Oh my, this man made her giddy. She stared into his
eyes, imagining she was seeing into his very soul. She leaned nearer,
hoping he’d kiss her. But it seemed he wanted her to make the first
move.

She placed her lips
hesitantly against his and waited. Nothing happened. Surely there was
more to kissing than this? She’d once come upon her sister,
Venetia, and her husband kissing and it had looked considerably more
energetic than this! And last night he had certainly made more of it
when he kissed her! His kiss had almost made her swoon!

Becoming a little
bolder, she moved her lips, brushing from side to side. Then, greatly
daring — he said he liked naughty, after all — her tongue slipped
out to coast along his lips like his had done.

Suddenly an earthquake
rumbled to life around her. With a loud growl, he pulled her onto his
lap, cradling her tightly against him. Locking his greedy lips onto
hers, his velvet tongue flicked out to tangle with hers, to plunder
her mouth like a skilled pirate. Her senses were whirling. She
couldn’t think, could only react.

Trapped in his embrace,
she wasn’t free to move as she wished. She pushed against his hold
and slid off his lap. He muttered a protest that ended as soon as she
fell to her knees on the floor between his spread legs. She leaned up
high against him and wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself
snug up against him. Now she was able to explore what all this
kissing was about. There seemed to be an infinite variety of them
and, so far, not one she didn’t like.

Expelling a relieved,
“Yes, that’s it. Touch me, sweetheart.” He stroked up and down
her side setting off such trembling in her lower limbs, she worried
she might collapse into a molten heap on the floor. His other hand
took care of that by gripping her bottom and pressing her whole body
flush against his.

She didn’t resist.
Even helped by pushing herself still nearer. Her head was swimming.
She was drowning in sensation.

He slid down to join
her on his knees on the floor and... suddenly, he was falling! He
threw out his hands, seeking something to grab onto to save himself.
She caught them in hers and stopped his tumble, preventing him from
hitting his head. Again! She hated to think what a second time might
have done to his recovering memory!

He righted his body and
ended up sitting on the floor, looking embarrassed.

“What happened?”
she asked.

“I moved too fast.
Got dizzy. Nothing to worry about.”

“You need to eat
something.” Tally scolded gently. “To keep up your strength.”

“Some lover I’m
turning out to be.” He sounded thoroughly disgusted with himself.
“That’s one way to ruin the mood.” He put a hand on the floor
and pushed himself up onto his haunches. “It’s probably for the
best. I’m too weak to do much and you’re still feeling awkward
about me not remembering you.”

She lowered her eyes
unable to hold his look.

“It’s all right. I
understand,” he reassured her. “Hell,
I
feel awkward about not remembering you!” He held onto the bed to
stand and helped her up in front of him.

Loud footsteps
approached the door.

Oh
my god, Foster!
He’ll
kill Reed if he finds us like this!
She hurried to put
space between.

The doorknob jiggled.
She froze, unsure what to do.

Reed folded his arms
across his chest. “Damn that man! He has incredibly poor timing! He
does it on purpose, doesn’t he?”

She spun away from his
searching gaze. Her butler was taking his time, if he planned on
entering.

Don’t
complain, you ninny.
The delay gave her time to calm her
nerves. She cast a quick look over her shoulder at her sham husband
and encountered a rueful, though entirely unrepentant grin.

He backed up a step and
sat on the bed, all by himself this time. He quirked an expressive
eyebrow at her. “Amazing what miracles a little loving can work.”

A hot blush swept
through her entire body. She averted her face, feeling horribly
self-conscious.

“I rushed you, didn’t
I?”

She glanced back to
find him lying back against his pillows again.

“Frightened you, I
suppose.” He sighed. “You have to remember that I’ve been away
and it’s been a long time–” he stopped abruptly. “Am I
remembering that or simply feeling that it must be so?”

How was she to respond
to that? She turned back and moved toward the door. “It
has
been a long time.”

Like
forever!

“Go my naughty angel.
I can see you’re anxious to be gone.” He waggled his eyebrows at
her, aping a lecherous villain in a melodrama, lightening the tension
vibrating between them.

He was trying to make
her feel better. He really was a nice man.

“We’ll have plenty
of time to continue what we just started.”

He closed his eyes
before he could see her startled reaction. He hadn’t meant it as a
threat, she knew, but… She peered across the room at him. Poor man.
He was exhausted.

Naughty angel, indeed.
What kind of angel would encourage an ailing man to expend what
little strength he had, on ... on ... kissing?

“Now, I know why I
married you,” he murmured drowsily, just as Foster entered the
room.

She hoped her old
friend hadn’t heard. His hearing was no longer as acute as it used
to be, but he had an awful habit of hearing very well just what she
most wanted him not to hear.

“Good,” she said to
Foster. “You’ve brought him some food. He’s weak from hunger.
He needs to eat something.”

Foster glanced at the
bed where Reed appeared to have fallen asleep. He raised his
eyebrows.

“It’s just a cold
collation, isn’t it?” At his nod, she pointed to the table by his
bed. “Then leave it there for him to take when he wakes up.”

Leaving Foster to take
care of their “
guest
,”
Tally left the room.

She was worried. This
man, she found so compelling, so likable, might be a dangerous
killer.

How he was going to
react when he discovered the bullet wound on his shoulder? He claimed
to like naughty, but how was he going to feel about devious and
dishonest?

After Talia left him,
Reed’s mind wandered. Even though he’d not taken the
laudanum-laced milk, he still felt incredibly lethargic. He knew it
would take days, maybe longer, before the drug worked its way out of
his body and that was only if he was being given that one dose a day.
Half asleep, he dreamed of how he was going to accomplish the
closeness he ached for with his lovely wife. It felt good to know
that soon he would be able to focus, to feel more like himself again.

Whoever
that was!

How could he feel like
himself, when he had no idea who he really was?

It seemed only a short
time later that someone entered his room. His first instinct was to
rise and defend himself, but his brain roused enough to realize it
was his wife. Her sweet lavender scent reached him first. Did she
come in to check on him every night while he slept? He found the idea
rather comforting, but was surprised he’d never awakened to her
presence until tonight. He was normally a light sleeper.

Yet another memory to
put on his list tomorrow. Right now he was just too sleepy.

Through the muzziness
of incipient sleep, he heard her come confidently toward the bed,
unafraid of waking him. She must be very sure his night potion had
put him in a deep sleep. Did the physician tell her to continue
giving him the medicine or was that her own initiative? What if he
was being given more than one dose a day? That would explain how
sluggish he still felt, even minus tonight’s drink. Hell! Was he
going to have to stop eating to ensure he wasn’t drugged?

He opened his eyes a
slit, allowing his lashes to conceal the fact. She picked up the
empty cup, looked into it and nodded. Thankfully, after Foster left
his room, Reed had remembered to throw the milk out the window.

When she approached the
bed, he shut his eyes quickly. She must really want him to get
better, if she was bothering to verify he’d taken it. He wished he
could be sure it was for the same reasons any loving wife would but,
once stirred, his suspicious nature was unlikely to settle down until
it had been satisfied. And his instincts were telling him something
wasn’t as it should be.

She leaned over him and
began unbuttoning his nightshirt. He was so startled that,
instinctively, he almost squirmed away from her. This was the woman
who could barely bring herself to touch him during the day! What did
she plan on doing to him tonight?

Just thinking about the
possibilities had every part of him alert and rising to the occasion.
Groaning inwardly, he shifted, slowly — still feigning sleep —
moving his leg to conceal his budding arousal. If not, he feared she
couldn’t fail to miss the clear signal he was no longer asleep. He
wanted to know what she was up to before revealing he was wide awake
and eager.

The inane notion that
she might be sleep-walking flashed through his mind, but he quickly
discarded it. Her movements were too definite. He watched her from
between lowered lashes. Was this a nightly routine? Perhaps she was
unable to show her affection by daylight, but let her passion loose
at night?

At the stimulating
image of her having her way with him while he slept, his heart began
to pound so hard he was afraid she’d hear it. He was damned if he’d
be able to fake sleep through it all, but if that was what it took
for her to come to him, then he’d do his best. He supposed he could
live with that kind of loving. For now. But he promised himself that,
once he was back to himself, he’d take great pleasure in teaching
her the joy of daytime delight. Now, though, he was curious to see
how she planned on going about it.