My Three Lords Page 9

  And then he paused in his thrusts. “Tell me how this feels.” His demand nearly made my mouth fall open.

  “Most wonderful,” I assured him. “Please to continue.”

  “But do you like it more than that other stuff?” He thrust deep.

  I gasped. “Other stuff?”

  “The fancy stuff. The frills and furbelows, so to speak.”

  Why was he suddenly so talkative at such a sensitive moment? The haven I sought receded from me. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. What do frills have to do with marital relations?”

  “My point precisely.” He brightened and ground his hips against mine. But our brief discussion had cast a pall over the moment. I felt twinges and soreness that I hadn’t felt just minutes earlier. I became aware of the details of the bedchamber. Annie, or some other servant, had replaced the bouquet of pink roses on the dressing table with a new display. One of the petals had dropped onto the surface. For the first time I noticed a lovely watercolor hung on the wall in a gilt picture frame. The scene depicted was oddly familiar. Soon I realized it was the enchanting island in the center of the lake.

  Entrancing as the painting was, I did not care to be admiring art during a time when I should have been transported in the arms of my husband.

  I pulled out of his grasp and clasped my arms around my knees. “Why must you disrupt our embraces with idle chatter?”

  Dorchester gaped at me and sat back on his heels. His body gleamed white in the moonlight, save for where the sun had touched his neck. “Idle chatter? I was attempting to determine what pleases you most.”

  “What pleases me is to bring our intimacy to its proper conclusion.”

  “That is what I intended to do.” His rod still looked willing, but an irritable mood gripped me.

  “You should have kept on as you were rather than distracting me with useless talk.” I flounced off the bed and flung open the casement. A gust of balmy air caressed my face.

  “Return to the bed and we’ll finish. I promise you’ll be content.”

  “The time has passed.” I pouted. “I’ll return if I must, as it is your marital right. But you might consider a bit of preparation.”

  “Preparation?”

  “Strokes, caresses, sweet words.” I put my elbows on the windowsill and let the breeze refresh me.

  “But…” he spluttered, “you said you wanted none of that.”

  “I never did so.” I turned from the window to witness a mystifying look of disgruntlement cross his face. “What have I said to offend you? Do you wish me to return to the bed, or shall I continue to enjoy the night air?”

  “There’s no purpose to it now.” Indeed, his manhood had shriveled into mousehood.

  I left the window and returned to his side. “I do apologize, my lord. Would you like me to take it into my mouth?” I began to sink to my knees.

  “No,” came his gloomy answer. He stopped my movement and steered me toward the bed. We sat together, naked. “It was my own fault. I interrupted our lovemaking for a shameful reason.”

  “Shameful?” Astonishment made me stare. He rubbed his hand across his face as if to clear his mind.

  “I must relieve my conscience and beg your forgiveness. The Marquis and I agreed to a competition. My vigorous prick against his sensual arts. When you seemed content with my brutish thrusts, I thought I’d triumphed. But instead, it seems you do prefer a more skillful technique.” My poor husband looked so crestfallen, it might have been adorable had I not been so enraged. The sheer force of my fury made my naked limbs quiver and my vision blur.

  “A competition?”

  “A wager, to be precise. Do you forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? Never!” I scrambled off the bed. I could not continue to be in his presence one more moment for fear I should try to hurt him. “Remove yourself from my bedchamber.”

  “But—”

  “Or I shall jump out the window.”

  I knew I would do just that if I must. I wanted no more of my husband. No more of the Marquis.

  I turned my back to my husband and listened to him fumbling for his clothes. Sickened, I now knew my marriage was a disaster. I could not continue in such a situation. I would find my way back to my father and brothers, or perhaps join a nunnery. The one thing I would not do was stay here with the Earl and the Marquis. I would go somewhere with no more lords to toy with me.

  Chapter Seven

  The gloomy-faced Earl stormed into the billiards room where the Duke and the Marquis were enjoying a bottle of port and a game of whist. The Marquis narrowed his eyes at his young cousin.

  “Here to admit defeat, I presume?”

  The Earl flung himself at the Marquis, who moved not a finger to avoid the attack. Instead, the Duke dropped his cards and stepped between his two cousins to take the brunt of it.

  “Warrington! I didn’t mean…are you hurt?” The Earl patted his cousin’s broad shoulders.

  “I’m not so fragile as of yet,” he answered dryly. “Now why don’t you sit down and discuss this in a civilized manner.”

  “Civilized! A bit late for that, ain’t it?” Dorchester scowled in the Marquis’ direction, but obeyed the command. He perched on the edge of an armchair and dropped his head into his hands. “She booted me from her bedchamber. We’ve driven her away.”

  “We?” the Marquis drawled. “The last I saw of her, she was happy as a kitten in cream. And as creamy as a—”

  “Enough.” The Duke stopped the Earl, who was already halfway out of his chair, apparently bent on murder. “You both deserve whatever that poor girl chooses to inflict on you. You should be ashamed. Both of you.”

  Both seemed inclined to argue the point, but the Duke continued implacably. “I refuse to be drawn into your quarrels. I came here for an entirely different purpose.”

  A pall fell over the room, the familiar ghost of the Duke’s confounding malady.

  “You saw the physician,” said the Earl.

  “Indeed.”

  The Earl leaned forward to grab a poker and jab at the fire. “Well? Don’t torment us. Did this one agree with the others?”

  The Duke took a bracing sip of port. “The doctors don’t seem able to come to agreement on much of anything.”

  “What do they say, precisely?” The Marquis was deadly serious now.

  “They say nothing precisely. They speak in vaguenesses and probabilities, mixing dire warnings with reassuring platitudes. After this last appointment, with the Scottish physician, I’ve made a decision.”

  * * * * *

  From the earliest time I can remember, I loved to steal from my bedchamber and venture into the darkness of the night. My oblivious family never knew and I never was caught, by servant or stranger. I wouldn’t stay out-of-doors long. I would simply find a tree or a lovely spot of grass and lie back to enjoy the starry panorama above me. I would return spattered in dew, but with mind and soul much refreshed.

  It had been quite some time since I’d had the luxury of such an adventure. In London, it would have been madness to step outside alone at night. At the very least, my reputation would be besmirched. At the worst, some physical harm might come to me. The wedding and the journey to Notre Plaisir had prevented me from indulging my craving for night air, but tonight the urge was impossible to deny.

  After a sleepless hour, I rose from my bed, drew a shawl around my shoulders and stole out of the bedchamber. The household was silent. Everyone appeared to be asleep. I experienced one moment of fright when I passed by the billiards room and saw the remains of a fire still asmolder. But the room was empty, leading me to believe some or all of the three lords had stayed up quite late and had only recently withdrawn to their chambers. Since the Earl had not returned to my side, no doubt he was asleep in his own private room.

  A set of glass doors let onto a stone terrace. I chose this exit rather than the front entrance. Carefully, I eased the doors open, relieved to hear nary a squeak from the hinges. It was
impressive how the Marquis kept everything in perfect condition. At Silverwood Manor, there was always something in need of repair, whether it be the gate to the chicken coop or crumbling mortar in the chimney.

  The great black night greeted me with a sweet embrace of country air. The moon had just risen and provided a silvery light for my journey across the lawn. I picked up the hem of my nightdress and danced my way down toward the lake. For some reason, I seem to see better in the dark than most other people. Perhaps it’s due to my nighttime roaming.

  The damp grass felt delicious on my feet. From long experience, I’d learned it was best not to ruin a pair of slippers, which might bring unwanted attention to my clandestine forays. Bare feet were safer, and a few burrs or thorns nothing worth regarding.

  I scampered as if I were a puppy dog released from its chain. At night, with no one watching, I felt free and joyful. I had no need to worry about my reputation or proper behavior, about a husband who wagered on my most intimate desires, or a blackguard who had ignited a flame that still tormented me.

  I spread my arms and turned in a happy circle. A moonlit sky arched above, punctuated by bright scintillating points. Around me, the dark shapes of trees gathered and crickets murmured. I heard the lapping of water against the shore of the lake.

  And another sound, a rhythmic splashing.

  Was someone swimming in the lake at this hour? Perhaps an animal? My better judgment told me to hurry back to the manor. But my curiosity, as always, got the best of me. I headed for the shadows of the trees so I should not be spotted and tiptoed toward the lake.

  It stretched before me like a spreading ink spot. The rising moon picked out glimmering ribbons on the surface. Not far from shore was a dark lump with two sticks protruding from either side. They moved in slow circles, up and down, so I soon realized I was looking at a small rowboat. A man sat at the oars, and from the arrogant tilt of his head I knew it was a nobleman, not one of the serving class, or a tenant come to poach. I speculated that one of the three lords was in that boat, since it would be extremely odd for a visitor to arrive and head directly to a rowboat on the lake. Squint as I might, I was unable to make out which one it might be.

  And then, right before my eyes, the oddest thing occurred. The lord slumped over the oars.

  Now perhaps the most sensible thing would have been to run back to the house and wake the household with a call for help. But I was so practiced in my surreptitiousness that I never considered that course of action. Instead, I tossed aside my shawl and waded into the water. I found it much colder than it had been earlier in the day. It closed around my ankles with a frigid grip. Softly, I called out to the unconscious man.

  “Are you ill? Wake up! Hallo, hallo.” When I received no response from the boat, I waded in farther and raised my voice. “Ahoy the rowboat. Please talk to me, if you are able.”

  When it became clear no response would be forthcoming, I plunged into the water up to my waist. I gasped from the shock of the cold, but at the same time it made my limbs tingle and filled me with vigor. I submerged myself further and swam toward the rowboat. My strokes were awkward, as I was unwilling to let my head go below the surface. Long tendrils of my hair flowed behind me. My nightdress clung to my legs, making the short swim far more arduous than it ought to have been.

  The urgency of the situation grew as one of the oars slipped so it dangled precariously from the oarlock. I swam harder. I uttered a silent thanks to my brothers for their lessons in swimming.

  I was nearly dead from exhaustion by the time I reached the little craft. Still the figure didn’t move. I clung to the sides of the boat, too fatigued to do anything more. I had only enough presence of mind to push the oar back into its oarlock. When I recovered my breath, I gathered all my strength and pulled myself onboard. I dropped into the bottom like a sack of potatoes, and the sound finally stirred the unconscious man to life. He groaned.

  I scrambled to my knees. “Sir, you appear to be ill. May I offer you some assistance?”

  When he didn’t answer, I took one limp hand in mine and murmured to him. “If only I had some smelling salts or a bottle of hartshorn, but I’m afraid I’m woefully unprepared as I am not a person who faints. The next time I ramble out of doors I shall be sure to carry some with me for the sole purpose of reviving any swooning noblemen I may encounter.”

  After a few moments of this, the man raised his head and looked me full in the eyes. I saw that it was the Duke of Warrington.

  “You,” he said. In the moonlight, his skin looked pale. Pain tightened his face.

  Knowledge shafted through me, straight to the pit of my belly. The Duke, that strong, chestnut-haired, kingly man, was ill.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “’Tis nothing,” he said brusquely. “I was merely taking a brief rest from the stroking of the oars.”

  “You’re not telling me the truth.”

  “You needn’t concern yourself.”

  And yet I found it did concern me. Very much. “If you’re fine, then take the oars.” I shoved them at him, only to watch him fumble.

  I took the oars into my own hands. I’d never rowed a boat before, but surely it couldn’t be very difficult. Immediately, the rowboat threatened to capsize.

  “Give me the oars.”

  “No, you’re too weak from your fainting spell.”

  “It was no fainting spell.”

  “Then what was it, pray tell?”

  “I will beg you to stay out of my affairs.”

  “’Twould be much easier accomplished had you not fainted in front of me.”

  Squabbling in this manner, neither of us paid proper attention to our course. Amid the splashing and arguing, a new sound made itself known. The rowboat scraped against the rocky beach of the little island. We had run aground.

  “Oh, dear,” I sighed. “I supposed I had best return to the water and push the craft away from the shore.”

  “Ridiculous idea. We shall go ashore and warm ourselves. Look at you, you’re shaking like a scared rabbit.”

  “I’m not scared.” But my protest fell on deaf ears, as the Duke propelled me out of the rowboat onto the beach. He seemed to have regained some of his strength. Although he moved slowly, he tied the boat’s rope to a rock then led me up the incline to a sheltered spot under a grove of birch trees.

  Now that my exertions were behind me, I felt colder than ever. The wind prodded me with frigid fingers. I dropped to the ground and wrapped my arms around my knees to curl into the smallest possible ball. Even so, I shivered and shook. The Duke sat next to me. Something warm came around me. Gratefully, I realized it was his greatcoat. Outside that garment, his arms encircled me. He rubbed gently and held me until my shivers tapered off. His grasp was firm, his body a solid wall of heat. I clung to him as if he were an oak tree and I a climbing vine.

  “Better?” His breath was warm against my hair.

  “Warmer, I thank you. The lake wasn’t nearly as cold earlier in the day. I didn’t expect to become so chilled.”

  “What were you thinking, you mad girl?”

  “I believed there was someone in the boat at death’s door. Or at the very least in a dire state that required immediate assistance.”

  “I required no assistance.”

  “You’re very stubborn, Your Grace.”

  Finally, he smiled. “I’m sorry to have frightened you. Obviously, I had no inkling anyone was nearby.”

  “It’s lucky for you I was.”

  His chest rumbled with a laugh. I felt the vibrations through the several layers of clothing between us. “It occurs to me that as the wife of my heir, perhaps you were a tiny bit hopeful you might find me beyond help.”

  I tried to pull away from his embrace but he did not allow it. “That’s a dreadful thing to say! I have no desire to be a duchess.”

  “Or perhaps you were on your way out to knock me overboard.”

  “How could you ever think such a—” In my outr
age, I forgot my shivers. My shaking was now from fury. The Duke gave me an approving nod and I saw that was the intent of his teasing. My anger subsided. “The very idea is absurd.”

  “Especially for one who desired never to meet the fatally attractive Duke of Warrington.”

  My face heated. The Duke certainly had clever ways of returning the warmth to my being. “I did not desire it, but it seems to keep happening willy-nilly whether I wish it or not. However, may I point out that I have yet to succumb to a faint, which cannot be said for Your Grace?”

  He chuckled reluctantly. “My powers are apparently waning. I do indeed thank you for your assistance. You’re a most unusual creature. I wonder how many girls would swim to the rescue of a stranger in the middle of the night.”

  If that was a compliment, it had a funny ring to it. “Well. You’re welcome.”

  In the quiet that followed, I heard the lapping of wavelets on the shale bank, the soft hoot of an owl somewhere on shore. The Duke’s warmth seeped into me and a pleasant sense of well-being filled me. This peaceful feeling was interrupted by a new question.

  “Now Lady Dorchester, I must ask what you were doing outside on such a night.”

  “Nothing,” I answered evasively. “I only wished to breathe the fresh air and enjoy the lovely night.”

  “All alone? A new bride on the second night of her marriage? It strikes me that something might be amiss.”

  “Not at all. That is, my husband and I…”

  “Yes?”

  At his kind tone, all the hurt feelings flooded back. The dark night, the tiny island, so apart from the rest of the estate, the warmth flooding back into my veins, all combined to make me forget the value of discretion.

  “My husband found fit to place an unseemly wager that is so improper and so thoroughly humiliating that I couldn’t bear to remain in his presence.” My wounded emotions poured out of me. “I beg you not to rise to his defense, for his behavior is inexcusable. He’s an impulsive boy who doesn’t think things through. And the Marquis is even worse. Neither of them cares how such a challenge would affect a woman’s sensitive feelings. I thought I was doing the proper thing as a new wife, but now I find I cannot forgive him.”