An Affair Most Wicked (30 page)

“Tell me what you’d like this afternoon, love.” His voice was husky, provocative.

“Why don’t you surprise me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He inched down and freed her from her skirts, then put his mouth on her—kissing and suckling with great vigor until ripples of pleasure pulsated through her body.

Clara clutched at his head, thrust her hips forward in hot, tense exhilaration, and finally cried out with reckless abandon.

Her body soon relaxed in complete, utter abatement. Seger inched up to lie on top of her again, gazing down at her with an animal grin as he unfastened his riding breeches. A second later, he was easing himself into her, slowly sliding in with grace and control, never taking his eyes off hers.

They watched each other in the daylight as they moved. Neither of them spoke. It was so peaceful by the lake. So fresh and clean. Clara had never known such gratifying contentment, such deep, soul-blazing lust.

Soon, his pace quickened and he closed his eyes. He pushed into her harder and faster, then held himself deep inside—so deep it felt like he filled her completely.

Clara squeezed his shoulders and gloried in the sight of him reaching his climax. She felt him throb and pulse within her, felt the hot, flooding sensation of his seed gushing forth. God, how she loved him. She loved giving him this pleasure.

A moment later, Seger collapsed upon her. “I’m completely spent,” he said breathlessly in her ear. “I must have given you everything I had.”

“I hope there will be more later,” she said playfully.

He propped himself up on both elbows and gave her the rakish grin that always melted her heart. “I’ll see to it. A hearty dinner should fill me up again.”

With a boyish lift of his eyebrows, he glanced at her hair and picked a few crisp, dead leaves out of it. “I’ve made a mess of you.”

Clara laughed.

He fixed his gaze on her eyes, then pressed his lips to hers while he slid out of her.

“Ah,” he sighed, rolling onto his back and tossing his arms up under his head. “I’m glad you suggested this makeshift honeymoon. It’s been a delight.”

Clara rested her cheek on her hand and gazed at his profile. “Thank you for bringing me here, Seger. I know it must have been difficult for you.”

He turned his head toward her. She saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what she was referring to. “No, Clara. It has not been difficult.”

“But you were thinking of her for quite a while, and you were so quiet. You looked sad.”

He sighed. “Only because I haven’t thought of her in a long time, and that was my own choice. I never let myself. Being back here makes it impossible to ignore the memories, that’s all.”

“Then you’ll be thinking of her a great deal while we’re here, won’t you?”
Just what I want on my honeymoon
—
my husband embarking on a nostalgic journey back to his
first love.

He hesitated before he answered, and sounded reluctant when he spoke. “Probably, but that doesn’t mean I wish she was here instead of you.” His gaze narrowed. “Honestly, if she suddenly appeared right now, I would choose you.”

I hope so, but I will never know, because you do not have that choice.

Clara dropped her gaze to the matted grass. There was one more thing that had been weighing heavily on her mind.

“Do I remind you of her? Is that why you married me?”

Seger leaned closer. “Of course not.” He cradled her chin in his hand. “Clara, look at me. I admit that when I first saw you, I noticed a very slight resemblance. Perhaps it’s what made me approach you, but since then I have not seen it. You’re different in every way. I don’t see her when I look at you. I see you.”

Clara accepted his explanation and reminded herself that even though this conversation about Daphne hurt, it was a good thing, because he was being very open with her, and that was what she had wanted.

“I understand if you need to think of her. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here.”

He touched her cheek, then leaned back on his elbows. “You’ve been so calm and reasonable about this, Clara. Most women would have slapped my face and stormed off by now.”

She tried to smile. “It means a great deal to me that you were honest with me, Seger, and if anytime, you want to talk about her, I’ll listen. I want you to share your feelings with me.”

He considered it for a few seconds, then kissed her. “Thank you, but I believe I will keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He was right. It would hurt if he talked about Daphne constantly and told her private things about their relationship, because as much as Clara tried to maintain a calm and reasonable demeanor on the outside, her heart was aching on the inside. She was only human after all.

Seger fastened his breeches while Clara arranged her skirts, then he rose and helped her to her feet. He pulled the leaves out of her hair.

As they mounted their horses, she thought about Seger coming here with Daphne, and how often he must have pulled leaves from
her
hair. She imagined Seger making love to Daphne, telling her unreservedly that he loved her, as he must have done hundreds of times.

He does not love me, at least not yet. Not like he loved her.

The thought came unbidden, made her stomach clench, but she forced herself to banish it.

Chapter 20

Clara was the one he wanted. Seger knew it with a surprising firmness of mind when he climbed into bed with her that night.

Yes, he had thought of Daphne a number of times since he and Clara had arrived at Rawdon Hall, but the memories were distant. They were vague and seemed almost childish, for he had been a mere adolescent when he’d first met Daphne. He had been sixteen, and he had fallen hopelessly in love, but he had changed a great deal since then.

He was no longer that boy. Daphne’s death had ripped from him the person he had been. He had lived another existence. He had grown into a man. He was not the boy he had been when he’d loved her.

He wondered how he would feel about her if he met her now, for the first time. He would probably not even notice her in a crowd of other women. He was far too experienced.

“I enjoyed myself today,” Clara said sweetly as she inched down under the covers. “I love this house, Seger, and I love the countryside. I will look forward to returning after the Season has ended.”

“So will I,” he replied with some surprise. He rolled on top of her, pressed his lips to her delicate mouth, and smiled. “Because this bed—with you in it—is like a little piece of heaven.”

That experience he possessed had moved him to choose Clara out of a sea of eager, willing females. Now, Clara was here with him in the flesh.

Her patience and understanding—knowing he was thinking of a woman from his past—only served to solidify his respect for her. She was so very sensible. She had understood the complexities of the situation. She had understood
him
. He had admitted he was remembering his first love, and his wife had been sympathetic and tolerant. She knew he couldn’t help but think of Daphne after returning to Rawdon Hall for the first time since her death, and his wife had been patient.

How could he not adore Clara for that?

Seger kissed her with an unruly passion and helped her pull her nightdress over her head.

* * *

Seger did not mention Daphne again during their stay at Rawdon Hall, but Clara took note of the times he was quiet and melancholy and knew that he was thinking of her.

Nevertheless, Clara enjoyed their private time together and felt that by being understanding and patient, she had gained Seger’s respect. They had, in fact, forged a closer bond.

Now, back in London and riding alone in the coach on her way home from a brief shopping excursion, Clara reflected on their marriage, and began to believe that a deeper love between herself and her husband was indeed possible. Likely even, if they continued in the direction they were going.

They had come forward a great distance since their wedding day, she realized with a smile. Seger had opened up to her completely at Rawdon Hall. He had softened toward her and given up the superficial flirtations. He had held her tenderly in the night, and he had appreciated her understanding.

Clara sighed heavily as a wave of relief and contentment moved through her. She felt optimistic about her marriage now, for the very first time.

The coach stopped at an intersection, and without warning, her door opened and a man stepped inside.

“Sir!” she shouted. “This is not a hackney cab! Get out please!”

Before she had a chance to call to her driver, the carriage lurched forward. The man settled himself on the seat and turned toward her.

She gazed at the familiar face, and her pulse seemed to stop abruptly.

All she could do was say his name. “Gordon.”

He smiled. “Yes, it’s me, Clara.” He stared into her eyes. “My God, you are more beautiful today than you were the last time I saw you. It hardly seems possible.”

He placed his hand on his chest, as if he were trying to still his heart.

Panic thrust into her veins and shock settled in behind it. Clara had to struggle to think clearly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in prison.”

“I was released three months ago.”

“But you promised you would never contact me again. What do you want?”

He leaned back in the seat and rested both hands on his walking stick. “Straight to the point, as usual. It’s what I admired most about you, Clara. You always knew exactly what you wanted. Well, almost always.” He smiled again, this time, a sinister, knowing smile. He leaned toward her, as if he wanted to sniff her.

Clara slid away from him. “I am married now, Gordon. I don’t wish to see you. I will ask you to get out of my coach immediately. Driver!”

But the driver didn’t hear her.

“Oh, I know all about your triumphant marriage,” Gordon said. “It was splashed all over the New York papers.”

Clara tried to keep her breathing slow and steady. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that I want you to leave.”

How could she ever have been so young and foolish as to allow this man into her life?

He shook his head at her. “You must know I never stopped loving you.”

Clara frowned. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You never loved me. You wanted my father’s money, and you got it when we parted—a great deal of it— so you had better leave now before he finds out about this, and takes steps to see you back in prison for blackmail.”

“I don’t wish to blackmail you. I only want to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought of you every wretched night I was in prison. Surely you must remember what we shared.”

She slid away from him again, disgusted by his mendacity. “I remember nothing! You manipulated me and lied to me.” When he did not reply, she narrowed her gaze. “Did you send that telegram to my husband on our wedding day?”

He considered the question for a moment. “No, that wasn’t me.”

“But you know about it. Who did you tell? Who sent it?”

“To be honest, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m here only to see you again for my own personal reasons, and to remind you of what we had.”

“The only thing I am reminded of is filth. Get out of my carriage, and do not ever contact me again.”

“But I don’t want to get out.”

He moved closer until she was pinned up against the side of the coach. He moved his face in slow circles in front of hers, so close she could almost feel his mouth touching hers.

She turned her face away in disgust. “Let go of me!”

“I want to be with you again, Clara. We belong together. Surely your husband of all people will be open to his wife taking a lover. From what I hear, he would probably encourage it.”

Clara tried to squirm out of his grasp. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it isn’t true. Our marriage isn’t like that.”

He continued to paw at her, kissing the side of her head. “You’re dreaming if you think he isn’t taking lovers of his own. If nothing else, why not get revenge?”

“Let go of me!”

Just then, the carriage bumped and Clara glanced out the window.

“We are almost at Rawdon House,” she said in a panic. “Get out of here, Gordon, or I will send my husband out to remove you himself, and I guarantee he won’t be gentle.”

Gordon glanced out the window as well. “Damn. I suppose I should hop out before he finds out about us.” He slid away and picked up his hat. “As the English say,
Cheerio
.”

He opened the carriage door and leaped out onto the street, leaving Clara behind to still her racing heart.

“There is no us!” she shouted after him.

The carriage reached Rawdon House and stopped. Clara bolted inside to tell Seger what had happened, for she had vowed on their wedding day that there would be no more secrets.

Seger descended the stairs at his club. He had been informed that Quintina was waiting for him outside with an urgent message.

She had never come looking for him at his club before.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, exiting the building and letting the door fall closed behind him.

Quintina was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. “Seger, I am very sorry to bother you, but can we take a walk?”

He stared at her a moment, then met her at the wrought iron gate and offered his arm. “Certainly.”

“I have something to tell you,” she said, as they strolled down the street, “and I don’t know how to say it. It has come as a shock to me, and I hope it will not be unduly painful for you to hear it.”

“What is it, Quintina?”

She cleared her throat. “I have a friend in New York, and she has informed me that Clara was involved in some kind of embezzlement a few years ago.”

Seger glowered down at Quintina. “I already know about that. Clara explained what happened, and she is innocent. But I am curious to know how your friend came by this information, and if this is the person who sent me a telegram on my wedding day. Who is it, may I ask?”

Quintina glanced up at him. “An Englishwoman I knew a number of years ago. She moved to America to become a governess, and when she read about you and Clara in the New York papers, she felt obligated to inform me of Clara’s background.”

Stopping on the sidewalk, Seger took his stepmother’s hand in both of his. “I would like to know this woman’s name, if you please. This is a matter that must be cleared up posthaste. I will not have anyone spreading lies about my wife—lies that concern something that is buried in the past.”

Quintina sighed. “I’m not entirely sure that it
is
buried in the past, Seger, which is why I came today. You see, my friend wrote to me about this issue quite some time ago, but I chose not to mention it to you, because I like Clara so very much, and I want your marriage to be a success. But I could not keep it to myself any longer after what happened today. Can we stroll again?”

Seger nodded and offered his arm. They walked in silence for a few seconds before Quintina finally spoke. “First of all, I’m not sure that Clara was entirely innocent. My friend informed me that her signature was on certain documents, but that is not what concerns me now. Like you said, it’s in the past. What concerns me is Clara’s association with the man who lured her into this embezzlement in the first place. She was engaged to him, I understand.”