To Wed A Viscount (19 page)

He kissed her hand gallantly, then bowed. As he walked away he took with him a small part of Faith's enjoyment of the ball.

It had been a lovely evening of dancing and music, complete with a true sense of community and camraderie. Faith had been most pleased to discover that the local society who had looked upon her these past ten years with a jaundiced eye now seemed more tolerant, more accepting of her.

She was no longer Baron Aston's spoiled little girl, the one that Neville Sainthill was promised to but didn't seem all that anxious to marry.

She was now the Viscountess Dewhurst, a woman whose favor was courted. The simple addition of a gold wedding band had transformed her into someone to be reckoned with, not ignored.

“You must be dead on your feet, my lady,” the maid said with a sympathetic smile. “Dancing well past midnight. Why, I can't remember the last time a party went so late into the night. Or should I say early into the morning.”

“It was a wonderful ball,” Faith declared. She yawned slowly as the weariness suddenly seemed to overtake her. “Yet I have not felt tired all evening. Not until you mentioned the lateness of the hour.”

Faith gave a laugh as the maid pulled out her hairpins with efficient fingers. Once free of the constraints, Faith shook loose her hair. The maid picked up the brush and started to run it through Faith's thick brown hair.

Faith leaned back and relaxed, but instead of closing her eyes, she regarded herself solemnly in the mirror. Her eyes were tired but still sparkling, her complexion flushed rosy with excitement from the evening's festivities.

She lifted a thick clump of hair, drawing it close to her face, and silently contemplated the plain, brown locks. There were strands of red and even gold intermixed with the brown, but the darker color was most prevalent. Faith pulled the hair forward, over her shoulders, and tilted her head.

How would she look with golden hair curling artfully about her face? she wondered. As pretty as Merry?

Faith nearly laughed out loud at the very idea. No, that was not possible. No one was as pretty as Meredith. Every male in the room had noticed her tonight. And the lucky few who had received the honor of a spoken word or a brief dance had been transformed with delight.

Griffin had danced with Lady Meredith also, and the jealousy that swamped Faith as they glided gracefully across the ballroom had made her feel small and petty. They made a stunning couple—Griffin so dark and handsome, Meredith so fair and beautiful. More than one guest had commented aloud over that fact.

It had taken a great effort to hide the sudden, sharp pangs of envy she had felt, that hollowness that settled firmly in the pit of her stomach. Yet Faith had no real cause to complain. She too had several admirers this evening.

For once she had not been a forgotten wallflower, languishing among the silver-haired chaperons. It had taken only twenty minutes for her dance card to become full. And it was not only the older, married men who had asked. The few young dandies who resided in Harrowby had also sought her attention.

But that attention all paled in comparison to the moment when Griffin had stood before her and formally bowed. For Faith, nothing else that evening had come close to the enchantment of dancing with her husband.

The waltzes she shared with Griffin had been the undisputed highlight of the night. The subtle brush of his fingers on her back had made her tremble. Being once again held in his arms had brought a shiver inside Faith that started up from her toes.

She had hoped he would kiss her. Even a quick stolen kiss after their waltz would have been welcome. Or a moonlit walk in the garden where they could recapture some of the magic that had stirred between them before they became man and wife.

Or rather, before she had tricked and deceived Griffin into marrying her.

“All finished,” the maid announced cheerfully. She placed the hairbrush on the dressing table and went in search of Faith's nightgown. As soon as the viscountess was dressed in her nightclothes, the maid left.

With a sigh, Faith climbed into bed and lay quietly for several minutes, then turned on her side, plumping the pillows. After a few more restless turns Faith gave up the fight, admitting that even though she felt tired, she was too tense to sleep.

She rose from the bed, absently rubbing the back of her neck as she wandered toward the other side of her chamber, coming to rest by the windows. With a sigh, Faith perched on the low window casement, drew her knees up under her chin, and gazed out at the clear night sky.

There was a bright, full moon and myriad twinkling stars lighting the heavens. It seemed a magical night. A night of promise. A night for lovers.

Yet she had no lover. Just a disinterested husband, who most likely thought her more of a bother than she was worth. She cast an eye toward the door that connected her bedchamber to Griffin's. It was shut tight, as always.

A silent tear crept down her cheek and splashed onto her wrist. Faith brushed her cheek, then wrapped her arms tightly around her knees.

It was just a letdown from the party, she insisted to herself. It meant only that she was tired and a bit sad the evening had ended. Yet the temptation to release the tears and emotions inside remained strong. Faith fought it. No matter how depressed she was feeling, she would not sit here like a pathetic neglected wife, crying and bemoaning her fate. She would act.

Biting her lower lip, Faith looked again to the door that separated their bedchambers. She wanted to resume marital relations. Not only for the hope of the child it might bring, but to establish a connection with Griffin.

Things
had
improved between them since the disastrous morning after their wedding. At this exact moment, however, it seemed like they had made so very little progress for such a long period of time. Faith knew in her heart and mind they were miles from the point where Griffin would reach for her as a loving husband was wont to do.

She had spent more hours than she liked to admit fantasizing about that moment happening, for deep inside she knew that was what she wanted most of all. Griffin's love.

To her mind, a physical relationship between them was the first real step toward achieving that all-important goal. Except for that moment in the garden a few weeks ago, when the viscount had decided he wanted to host the harvest ball, Griffin had avoided all but the most proper and polite physical contact with her.

For the third time, Faith's eyes strayed to the closed door. Her heart contracted painfully as she contemplated all that it implied.

Distance. Separation. Exclusion.

Summoning her courage, Faith flung herself off the window seat and padded to the connecting door. She pressed her ear against the solid wood, but heard nothing. In fact, the entire house seemed unusually quiet. She thought briefly about knocking, but discarded the idea. What if he didn't answer? Would she then slink away in defeat?

Her fingertips lightly touched the door handle and slowly turned it. For a moment she panicked, worrying that it might be locked. But the door swung open quietly.

The draperies had been left open and Griffin's bedchamber was bathed in moonlight. It was dark, but the edges of the larger pieces of furniture as well as the bed were visible. The night was pleasantly cool, there was no fire in the hearth. The window was also partially open, for a slight breeze skipped across the room and swirled around her nightgown.

Tense and frightened, Faith waited to be noticed. A minute passed and all remained still. Was he sleeping? She strained to hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, but the familiar sounds of the night crept through the open window.

She took a step forward, almost wishing the floorboard would creak and garner his attention. Her heart was hammering so hard she couldn't understand how Griffin failed to hear it, and her, approaching his bed.

“Faith?”

The sound of that deep, husky voice startled her and she nearly screamed. Her mouth went dry. Answering was suddenly an impossible feat, for her tongue was twisted within her mouth. Instead, Faith heaved a heavy sigh and boldly stepped out of the shadows.

She heard the bedcovers rustle, saw Griffin slowly sit up. The linen sheet rode low on his hips, covering his body from waist to toes. His chest was bare, and there seemed every reason to assume that the rest of him was in a similar state.

Faith swallowed hard. She stared at the top of his dark head, broad shoulders, and powerful chest. The sight of his male beauty brought an unexpected tug of longing to her body, an ache of need between her thighs.

Faith moved closer to the window, deliberately placing herself in the shaft of moonlight provided by the open drapes.

“Faith?”

His voice sounded strange, as if he could not believe what his eyes were telling him. Griffin turned, and she heard the sound of a match striking tinder. He lit the candle beside his bed, and in the illumination she saw his face clearly, bathed in the golden glow of candlelight.

The stark beauty of his handsome face made her breath quicken, her heart flutter. He was all potent male—strong, virile, unvanquishable. Yet for the briefest of instants she thought she sensed in him a loneliness that was as great as her own.

Griffin's astonishment at her sudden, unexpected appearance was complete. Those silvery eyes opened wide, then narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

Faith's blush was so strong it had to be visible, even in the glittering candlelight. Her face burned as she suddenly realized how he must be seeing her, for the sheer nightrail offered little protection. She might as well have been naked.

Faith forced her chin up and stared back at him, despite her total embarrassment. Her breathing was labored and shallow. He continued to stare at her, his gaze sweeping from her flowing hair all the way to her bare feet.

Dizzily, Faith blinked but was unable to break the intensity of his burning stare. For a second she thought his eyes seemed to darken with sensual secrets. Oh, how she longed for him to share them. With her.

“Is something wrong?” he repeated.

Faith felt her skin flush. It was obvious to a blind man what she was doing there. If she had any pride at all, she would turn and walk away. Yet the emptiness inside her was so strong, the longing so deep that it gave her the courage to push herself forward. To dare to reach out to him, knowing there was a chance, a strong chance, he would slap her away.

“I'm lonely, Griffin,” she whispered. “And tired of sleeping alone. May I sleep with you?”

He didn't answer, didn't respond in any manner. She stepped closer to the bed. And still he did not speak a word. Her stomach fluttered with nerves, yet Faith never faltered in her movements. Her body seemed to be oddly separated from her mind, functioning automatically, in response to some deep-seated need she could not completely comprehend.

As if someone else was orchestrating her movements, Faith's arms reached toward him, wrapping themselves around his strong shoulders. Griffin made no move to return her embrace, nor did he pull away. He just stared down at her, his silvery eyes an unfathomable pool of mystery.

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against the rapidly beating pulse at his throat. Then she moved upward, kissing him softly on the ear, jaw, and cheek. When she reached his mouth, his lips parted in invitation. Faith nearly cried out with delight. There was no barrier to her tongue as it slid deeply into his mouth.

She linked her fingers behind Griffin's neck to steady herself. She pulled him closer. He came. She gave a little wiggle of pleasure as his naked chest brushed the tips of her breasts.

Her fingers twined through his hair, and she lovingly traced the contours of his skull, the curves of his ear. Her knees had turned to water and her heart was pounding urgently. Her nightgown hung low on her shoulders, and Faith was dimly aware of her breasts pressing almost painfully against the solid wall of his chest.

Vivid images flashed in her mind, explicit and erotic. Giving in to the temptations of her mind, she brought those images to life. Her fingers moved with boldness over his chest, her lips soon followed. She found his nipples through the whirl of crisp hair. Flicking her tongue, she laved them into hardness, then grazed them lightly with her teeth.

She heard his moan of pleasure in the still night air. Following carnal instincts she'd never known she possessed, Faith inserted her hand between their bodies. She wanted him to feel the same pleasure that she did, burn with the same erotic thrill that stirred her very soul.

Her hand skidded over his flat stomach and reached lower, to the nest of curls that covered his sex. Tentatively, her fingers closed over his pulsing erection, cradling it lovingly in her palm.

It was hot and hard and smooth. She squeezed gently, then experimentally circled the sensitive tip, massaging the moisture she discovered into the heated shaft.

Excitement flared in Griffin's eyes. Swiftly, he moved off the bed and stood beside her. His hands reached out blindly, drawing up the hem of her nightgown and then carelessly flinging it over her head. Gloriously naked, Faith twisted and turned in his arms as the heat rose to inflame her.

Griffin kissed her lips fiercely, then positioned her so that she was leaning back against him. Trembling, she fell back against his strength. His arms encircled her in a protective embrace. Lowering his head, Griffin brushed a tender kiss on her shoulder. Then he slid his hands across her breasts, down her stomach, between her thighs, and parted her legs.

“Oh, my,” she gasped.

He chuckled low in his throat, and she could feel the rumble against her back. Griffin ran his other hand along her cheek and jawline, then began stroking her neck. She tipped her head back against his shoulder with each sensual caress, closing her eyes tightly when that hand moved down her neck to tease her aching breasts.