An Affair Most Wicked (24 page)

“We women fall into such simple categories.”

Seger laughed. “It’s true, isn’t it? You look forward to the dessert, even when you’ve eaten enough and you’re full.”

Yes, she did.

“What do
you
like, Seger?” she asked in a sultry voice.

He sat up and helped her remove her nightgown. “I’m not sure, I keep changing my mind. I do like the appetizer, but then when the main course comes I think it’s the best—the most substantial part of the meal.”

He gazed at her naked form in the flickering lamplight. Clara laid her head back on the pillow, enjoying the way he admired her with such voracity.

“Tonight I’ll be your appetizer, main course and dessert,” she said, “if you wish it. Consider it a very personal wedding gift.” She tossed her arms up behind her head and crossed one leg over the other.

Seger’s face lit up with anticipation. He quickly removed his robe and tossed it to the floor.

Lord, how she loved that she could have this effect on him in bed. This part of their marriage, at least, was flawless.

If only that flawlessness could spill over into everything else.

Naked and already firm with an appealing erection, her husband rolled on top of her and pressed his mouth to hers. The heavy weight of his hot, hard body awakened her senses. Before she knew it, she was parting her legs, wrapping them around his hips and locking her ankles together behind him.

“Ah, Clara, you are delicious.”

She felt the tip of his arousal poised at her eager opening.

“Perhaps we could forego the appetizers this time around,” she said. “After a week away from you, my darling, I’m afraid I am craving the main course.”

He laughed as he devoured her mouth with his own. “You are a dream.”

Swiftly and smoothly, he entered her in a single thrust. Clara sucked in a breath, surprised at the shock of how completely he filled her, stretching her, rubbing, then pressing hard against the outer reaches of her womanhood.

It was the single most erotic sensation of her life. Pleasure shot straight to her core. Seger moaned and withdrew from her. He rose up high, thrust in again and again, and struck that part of her where the pleasure seemed to both begin and end.

Clara lost herself in the luscious sensation—the feverish ache that reduced her to melted butter, dripping all over her new husband. She wanted more and more of this, deeper and faster until she satisfied the sweet, stinging need that was overtaking all her senses.

He rose up on his arms and looked down at her, watching her face as he made love to her with a steady pace in the flickering light. Before long, she felt her climax approach, then it sizzled and exploded through her. She shut her eyes and clutched at Seger’s broad shoulders, driving her hips up to meet each of his deep, firm thrusts.

Her body relaxed afterward, and she didn’t care about anything outside of that moment. All her doubts and insecurities disappeared, replaced by a physical satisfaction that somehow went beyond the physical—so much so it was confounding.

She opened her eyes and looked up at her beautiful husband. He was still inside her, moving with the hypnotic cadence of a poem. His eyes held hers, and for a brief instant, she felt like she was floating.

She loved him too much, far more than she should.

Seger then seemed to give himself permission to let his own passions take him where they would, and he groaned with a fiery orgasm that pulsed and throbbed within her.

Clara hoped he was planting a child in her womb.

She wanted to create a child with him.

She wanted to do and share everything with him.

Slick with sweat, he collapsed on top of her and held her for a few minutes, then rolled off her and smiled.

“That was incredible,” he said, breathing hard and staring up at the ceiling.

“It certainly was. I have only one question.”

He turned his head on the pillow to look at her.

“I don’t want to rush you, but when is dessert being served?”

He laughed out loud. “As soon as my cake rises, darling.”

She rolled toward him to nibble on his earlobe. “How long does it take to cook?”

“Not long.”

She slid her hand down his damp, muscled chest and below, then gently took hold of his lower, more supple anatomy. “The main course was delicious, but you’re right—even when I’m satisfied, I still want a little more. Strange, isn’t it?”

She leaned up on one elbow, then began a trail of kisses down his salt-flavored abdomen. Plunging her tongue into his navel and swirling it around, she asked, “Do you mind if I turn up the heat in your oven?”

Seger lifted his head to look at her. “Kitchen skills too?” He laced his fingers through her hair, then closed his eyes and relaxed back down on the pillow. “I had no idea I married a woman with so many hidden talents.”

“I’m a very fast learner.” And down she went.

Clara woke the next morning to bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. Seger’s arm was stretched across the bed, just below her pillow in the crook of her neck. She was still naked.

This was bliss.

She inched a little closer, admiring Seger’s beautiful face as he slept. She touched her nose gently to his, wanting to kiss him but not wanting to wake him, for they had slept very little the night before. Chivalrous to the end, he had given everything to her pleasure, delivering ecstasy again and again, and for that, he deserved another hour of slumber.

Gazing at his face as he slept, looking at his peaceful countenance and the divine structure of his cheeks and nose, she felt drunk with fascination. She remembered the exquisite feel of his hands working her in the darkness, and the way she had opened herself to him. He was a man of infinite aptitude when it came to a woman’s needs and desires. His energy was limitless, his desire to satisfy never ending. She had been exhausted when dawn had come, and he’d finally let her sleep, knowing with confidence that he had fulfilled her. And he had. Her hunger for what he offered had been satiated, her thirst quenched, and afterward, she had slept better than any other time in her life.

Oh, how she wanted to taste his lips right now.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Seger awakened sleepily, filling his lungs with a slow, deep inhalation, gazing around as if he didn’t quite know where he was. As soon as he saw Clara’s face, he rolled toward her, took her into his arms, and tried to go back to sleep.

“Seger, the door,” she whispered.

The knock sounded again and he awakened more fully. “Someone is pounding at my door the morning after my wedding night? This had better be important.”

Sluggishly, he rose from the bed, pulled on his robe and went to see who was knocking. Clara recognized the butler’s voice when he spoke.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but there is a gentleman caller here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

“Urgent? Who is it?”

“His name is John Hibbert, my lord.”

Seger stepped back and began to close the door. “I don’t know anyone by that name. Tell him to come back later.”

The butler persisted. “He says it concerns Miss Flint, and it is a
very
urgent matter.”

Seger held the door half open. “Gillian? What in God’s name… ? Tell him I’ll be right down.”

“What’s happened?” Clara asked, tossing the covers aside and slipping out of the bed. She reached for her wrap and pulled it on.

Seger pulled on his trousers. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

Chapter 16

Seger entered the drawing room where the gentleman had been waiting. The man wore a shabby-looking suit. He held a bowler hat in his hands and straightened uncomfortably when he turned around and met Seger’s eyes.

“Sir, you have disturbed me at a most inopportune time. I hope this is important.”

The man shifted from one foot to the other and spoke shakily. “It is, my lord. Gillian Flint… is she a relative of yours?”

Seger tilted his head at the man. “A relative by marriage, yes. She is my stepmother’s niece. What of her?”

The man turned his hat over and over in his hands. “Uh, my lord, Miss Flint fell from her horse in front of my house this morning. She was unconscious and someone brought her to my door. My wife is with her now. The young lady mentioned your name.”

All the muscles in Seger’s body tensed. “Is she all right?”

“A little shaken up, but I reckon she’ll survive.”

“Have you summoned a doctor?”

“No, my lord, I came straight here.”

Seger nodded. “Thank you for bringing this news to me, sir. Wait here, please.”

Seger left the drawing room and requested that his coach be brought to the front door posthaste. He returned to the room just as Clara appeared in a simple gown with her hair in a messy knot, looking as if she’d barely had time to hook her corset.

“Gillian has been hurt,” he told her.

Clara covered her mouth with her hand. “Good gracious. What happened?”

“She fell from her horse. I must go and fetch her right away. Will you tell Quintina to send word to my physician to meet me at this gentleman’s home?”

Seger questioned the man, who related the address to Clara.

A short time later, Seger was stepping into the coach with John Hibbert, but paused when he heard Clara call his name from the front door.

“Wait!” Without so much as a shawl or gloves or hat, she bounded down the steps and practically leaped into the coach. “I’m coming with you.”

Seger helped her inside, and closed the door behind her.

Clara sat in a rocking chair next to the sofa where Gillian was resting in the Hibberts’ small parlor, and held her hand. She listened as the physician spoke to Seger out in the front hall.

“She’s fine,” the man said. “No signs of bruising or any broken bones. I believe she is just shaken from the whole affair, as any lady would be. You might want to take a look at that horse, however. Miss Flint said he bucked suddenly without any cause whatsoever.”

Clara watched from the parlor as Seger escorted the physician to the door. “I will, Dr. Lindeman. Thank you.”

A few minutes later, Seger entered the room. He smiled at Gillian. “You gave us quite a fright, my dear girl.”

Gillian squeezed Clara’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Seger. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. I was riding too fast, I suppose.”

Clara sensed the girl’s embarrassment. She pushed a lock of hair away from her forehead.

“Why would you ride too fast, Gillian, and why did you go out alone? You’ve never done anything like that before. You’ve never been careless in your actions.”

She shrugged. “I know it was foolish… I… I simply couldn’t help myself. I felt reckless this morning.” Gillian leaned up on both her elbows. Her gaze flitted back and forth from Seger to Clara. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

An uncomfortable tension twisted and curled around the room. Clara tried to dispel it. “Nonsense, don’t be silly. This unfortunate accident has given us an opportunity to get to know each other. I believe it’s the first time we’ve had a chance to really talk.”

Gillian smiled up at her. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Mrs. Hibbert entered the room. “Can I get any of you anything? A cup of tea perhaps?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Hibbert,” Clara replied. “You’ve been very kind.”

The woman smiled and left the room again.

“All this reminds me of the time I fell at Rawdon Manor,” Gillian said. “I was only twelve. Do you remember, Seger?”

He smiled kindly at Gillian. “Of course I do. I remember how you cried.”

Clara gazed down at Gillian’s face and saw a warm radiance in her eyes.

“What happened?” Clara asked.

Seger stepped forward. “Gillian was running, that’s all I saw. I don’t know where she was running to, only that she fell. You went down very hard. Your nose scraped the rocks.”

She touched it. “I still have a small scar.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied.

Gillian tried to sit up. “But you came to my rescue.”

“I merely carried you into the house.”

Clara watched the exchange and realized that Gillian was like a sister to Seger. She hoped Gillian would become like a sister to her, too.

Seger glanced toward the front hall. “Perhaps it’s time to leave the Hibberts to their day,” he said. “Will you be able to walk, Gillian?”

“I believe so.”

“I won’t have to carry you this time?” he said merrily.

Eyes flashing with delight, she giggled and shook her head. “No, Seger.”

“Good. I’ll summon the carriage, then. Are you ready, my dear?” he said to Clara.

She nodded and took his hand as he helped her to her feet.

Gillian chose her newest, most fetching gown when she dressed for dinner that evening. Quintina had convinced her that the color amber brought out the best in her complexion, especially in candlelight, and went well with her sand-colored hair. Quintina also chose a pearl-and-diamond choker from her own collection to go with the gown, and had lent it to Gillian.

Gillian watched herself in the mirror as her maid hooked the choker at the back of her neck, and wished she had been inclined to be more daring with her appearance before now, when it was probably too late.

She supposed that if things didn’t work out with Seger, at least she would have learned a thing or two from Clara about how to attract a man. She’d never experienced admiration from a man before—at least not a man worthy of her notice.

Gillian touched the pearls at her neck. Yes, if things didn’t work out here, she would put this new knowledge to good use and do even better than Seger. A duke, perhaps?

That would be very satisfying. She would outrank Clara at social functions. Her blood quickened at the thought. Perhaps one day, she would have an opportunity to give her the cut direct.

Just then, a knock sounded at her door and Quintina walked in. She waved the maid away and moved to stand behind Gillian, who looked at her aunt in the mirror’s reflection. “Well?”

Quintina rested her hands on Gillian’s shoulders. “You look stunning, my dear. He will be very surprised. We should have been dressing you like this all along.”

“I thought the very same thing a moment ago, Auntie. Why didn’t we?”

Quintina’s shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “I thought he would prefer someone demure for a wife. Someone like… well, you know.”

“Yes.”

Someone like Daphne. A merchant’s daughter who dressed like… like a merchant’s daughter.

Gillian bristled just thinking of her. Daphne hadn’t even been all that pretty. Seger’s affection for her had never made any sense to Gillian. She supposed the girl had been a bit of a slut.

Gillian had always believed that Seger would have realized that eventually. Even if Daphne had not gotten on that ship to America, he probably wouldn’t have married her in the end. He would have come to his senses.

Quintina fiddled with Gillian’s hairstyle in the back, folding locks into place. “It went well this morning, don’t you think? We got them out of bed at any rate.”

“Yes, and the Hibberts were very helpful.”

“Did you feel badly about lying to them?” Quintina asked.

“Gracious, no. They think they did a good deed, and Seger thanked Mr. Hibbert, who is probably bragging about it at his local pub as we speak.”

Quintina nodded. “Well, let us go.”

Gillian gathered up her gloves and stood.

They crossed the room toward the door, but Quintina paused before opening it. She turned around to face Gillian. “Remember, look directly into his eyes when you talk to him, darling. You must make him see you in a new light. Meanwhile, I will handle Clara. I know exactly what to do. She won’t last long.”

Quintina glanced down at Gillian’s low neckline, then lifted her gaze and smiled. “I believe you have larger breasts than she does.”

“Auntie!”

“It’s true, my dear. That gown is perfect. Now come along.”

That evening after dinner, Seger retired to his study to attend to some business matters, while Clara played the piano for Quintina and Gillian in the drawing room. Gillian sat beside a bright lamp, embroidering a small pillow. Quintina read a book.

When Clara finished her piece, Gillian set down her needlework and clapped. “You play beautifully, Clara. It is such a joy to have you here.”

“It’s a joy to be here. You have made me feel very welcome, Gillian.”

“I’m so glad. We are going to be wonderful friends, I know it. We must stay up late and enjoy each other’s company like this every night. We’ll be closer than sisters.”

Clara stood and moved to sit on the sofa beside Gillian. “But you’re forgetting the parties. The Season is far from over. There were a number of invitations today.”

Gillian sighed and looked down at her stitching. “Yes, I suppose we must go out. I certainly must, if I am ever to find a husband.”

“You will find one in no time, Gillian. You look radiant tonight. Wear a dress of that color to a ball and you’ll be danced off your feet.”

Gillian continued to look down at her embroidery. “I don’t think I should like that—to be danced off my feet. Some might call me dull, but I prefer to stay at home in the evenings. I’ve always preferred it. Everything that makes me happy is in this house.”

Clara inclined her head questioningly. “Have you been living here long? I thought you were just visiting, that you normally live with your uncle.”

On the other side of the room, Quintina looked up from her book and listened.

“Yes,” Gillian replied, “but Auntie has been very kind, always letting me stay as long as I like. My uncle doesn’t mind. He knows that even when my parents were alive, this was like a second home to me. I was close to Seger, you see.”

Clara watched Gillian lift her needle high over her head.