Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7) (6 page)

For herself, truth be told, she was feeling a little unbalanced by their romp and her confession. She usually didn’t mention she couldn’t have children in the heat of the moment. It tended to throw cold water over most men’s amorous moods. “I think once was enough, don’t you?”

He softly kissed her cheek before he disengaged and righted his clothing. When he drew close again after she’d straightened herself, he whispered, “I don’t think I could say no to you if I ever had the chance again. Think of me tonight and let me know tomorrow?”

She met his gaze. The man stared at her, his blue eyes compelling her to agree with him. Esme’s opinion of him wavered a little in his favor. “Perhaps.”

Six

“Please, don’t be vulgar.” Esme adjusted the collar of her Spencer and admired her reflection carefully in the early morning light. For a woman her age, nearing six and thirty, she was relieved to see her late-night cavorting with Lord Windermere had no visible effect on her outward appearance.

“I thought we agreed to share all our secrets,” Harriet protested. “I cannot ignore that you dallied with our host, a singularly mind-boggling decision on your part. I thought you didn’t particularly care for him, and certainly not in that way.”

Esme faced the mirror, picked up a firm-bristled brush and stroked it over each eyebrow carefully, forcing the fine hairs straight. Her blue eyes were bright with the energy welling beneath her skin. “He
is
arrogant.”

“Well, I imagine he’ll be far worse now that he’s had you.” Harriet slumped back in her chair with a huff. “They all are. Whatever possessed you to become intimate with a Hill?”

He’d asked nicely?
No, she couldn’t admit to that out loud. Harriet would fall all over herself with laughter and make fun of her for months to come. She was aware of how often she’d criticized her current host in the privacy of their respective bedchambers. It was too often to pass unnoticed that she wasn’t feeling particularly indifferent toward him today.

She felt excited, as if she stood on a precipice and whatever lay below was a mystery. She scoffed. There was no mystery surrounding Windermere. She was intimately acquainted with every aspect of his personal life. His taste, the feel of his hands on her hips, the rasping desperation of his voice as he commanded her during intimacy, sent a thrill of desire through her body even now.

Her pussy tingled with anticipation yet again. At least the tenth time since awakening alone that morning. A singular romp shouldn’t have overset her sense this much. Later she would think about the encounter properly, with a rational mind and cooler logic to place the event where it belonged—a memorable encounter and nothing more serious. When Harriet wasn’t around to pick apart her feelings about Windermere, she might make sense of them and him.

She was
not
friends with Windermere, nor ever likely to be. The unlikeliest of lovers. Even so…

“He caught me at a weak moment.” Esme frowned at her friend. “What are you doing up and about before midday? I didn’t expect to see you recovered from last night’s revels for a few more hours yet.”

Harriet’s smile slipped away. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Esme turned back to her mirror and secured a gold pendant around her neck. “Has Avery been that wicked again? There are laws against some of the things he likes, you know.”

“That wouldn’t stop him,” Harriet said quietly. “Esme, I have broken with him completely. I told him I’d never share his bed again.”

“What?” She spun about. “When?”

Harriet wrung her hands. “Last night, actually. I couldn’t find you. I suppose you must have been in Windermere’s arms by then.”

Esme immediately shifted to sit at her side and threw an arm around her shoulders. Harriet and Lord Avery Hill had been intermittent lovers for a long time. Such a change was unexpected. “But why? Did he do something wrong? Did he hurt you?”

The other woman shrugged then she looked away. “Not the way you imagine.”

Esme caught her chin and turned her face back to hers. “Who did he invite to join you both last night? You know I’ll not tell a soul.”

“It is not who he invites, it is that he always does. We want very different things from life.” She shuddered. “Esme, do you ever worry that the reason we are both still alone is because we’re too particular?”

“Is that what he suggested you were?” Esme shook her head in disgust. “I doubt Lord Avery Hill could have found a more open-minded bed partner anywhere. I certainly wouldn’t put up with his wandering eye the way you have, or his penchant for indulging in romps with more than one partner at a time.”

“I won’t ever be enough for him.”

Esme caught her hand and squeezed it. “And he has never appreciated what he had in you.”

“That is what I realized last night. I had a painful decision to make, and in the end he made it easy for me to give him up for something better.” Her smile grew brittle. “But in light of my choice, it might be uncomfortable for me to remain for the duration of the house party. I just wanted to warn you that I might leave on short notice. However, if you are involved with Windermere, I’ll understand that you might wish to remain behind.”

“Windermere was a fling and nothing more. You are my friend and we came together. If you wish to leave then so will I.” Esme peered at Harriet’s face closely when she winced. Her friend had parted with lovers before and never once showed regret or discomfort. In this case, though, it seemed she wasn’t capable of keeping her feelings so well hidden. She was deeply upset and Esme thought she knew why. “Are you in love with him?”

After a long moment, her friend dipped her chin to confirm it. “I fear so.”

She drew Harriet closer as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. A small wail of misery slipped out past her control as she vented her grief over the end of what had been a lengthy and often tempestuous affair. Harriet had never cried when an affair ended with her other lovers. Nor did Esme. They were alike in so many ways. Her friend would be better off without the blighter, and Lord Avery would undoubtedly move along to another conquest without hesitation.

She did her best to soothe her friend. “Then it is a good thing that you’ve broken with him. I cannot imagine it was easy sharing him with other women before. Even worse if you loved him.”

Harriet straightened suddenly, pulling a polite mask over her emotions and broken heart. “Enough of my troubles. Tell me about Windermere. Did he make you happy?”

A small thrill raced through Esme and she worked hard to suppress it. “He is talented at making a lady feel rather special.”

“Good. At least his reputation is deserved. I would not have you unhappy too.” Her friend stood suddenly. “This might be cowardly, but I’m not quite the thing today. I’m going to make myself scarce. I will see you before dinner.”

“You’re not a coward. You just need a bit of time.” Esme followed her to the door. “I am sorry about Avery, my dear.”

“So am I.” She let herself out and swiftly traversed the distance to her bedchamber down the hall.

Esme waited until Harriet’s door closed behind her then closed hers slowly with a sigh.

There was always a danger in conducting intimate relationships that one party might grow to feel more than the other. So far, she had been lucky that her partners had never stirred her heart. Was she too particular about who she loved?

She liked to think she was, and with good reason. She had never wanted any man to take her affections for granted. Her late husband had done that. Heathcote had turned to another the moment they’d both realized Esme would never bear his child. To this day, she could not forgive him for making her doubt her own worth. She wouldn’t ever give a man that much of a hold on her emotions again. She enjoyed men but kept a distance.

After all, what was the point of falling in love with a man who would undoubtedly want children she couldn’t have given him?

The life she had was the one she needed. Uncomplicated and undemanding of her emotions. She was happy as a widow. Indeed, she’d never missed being a wife.

With that thought in mind, she headed downstairs to enjoy tea on the terrace with people who had become dear friends since she’d learned to be happy on her own.

Seven

Richard scratched his jaw as undeniable satisfaction and conflicting confusion filled him with restlessness. How had he gone from arguing with a woman constantly to wanting to spirit her to his bed in the space of a few hours? He’d like to drag Esme away from his guests, over his shoulder if she became difficult about it, and make love to her all afternoon.

Admittedly, their encounter at the river house last night had been glorious and unplanned. The spur-of-the-moment decision to seduce her had been well-timed and swiftly executed.

But making love to her had been akin to holding fireworks. Dangerous and exciting, she was entirely capable of making a man’s heart stop from the pleasure to be found in her passion. He’d known, of course, that Esme liked sex. She’d had no lack of lovers over the years since becoming a widow. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why they hadn’t been intimate long before this. When he looked at Esme for any length of time, his tension grew until, without a shadow of a doubt, he knew he would pursue an affair with her for as long as they could stand each other.

Last night had not been enough to quiet his need for her.

He was sorry she wouldn’t ever have a child, but he wasn’t fool enough not to take advantage of it. Since he didn’t need to be careful where he spilled his seed, there was no reason not to indulge with her every chance he got. The house party ran for six more days and that would give him many opportunities to be alone with her. If she accepted his invitation to indulge in a purely intimate affair, that was.

He glanced across the terrace to where she sat among the women of the party, taking in the sun of another perfect country day. Outwardly, she seemed no different, but he remembered all too well how she had reveled in his attention last night. It astonished him how much she’d clearly enjoyed their hasty romp. Normally, he wasn’t quite so aggressive with a new lover, but she hadn’t seemed to mind his impatience.

Esme brought out the worst in him.

Or was it the best?

“Penny for your thoughts, old man,” his brother remarked as he took a nearby chair, half-empty glass dangling from his fingers. On first glance, one might think Avery was merely tired, but his blue eyes were bloodshot and he seemed not altogether steady. He was completely cup shot, and very much earlier in the day than was normal for him during their usual house parties.

Richard had no interest in overindulging in spirits along with him. Not with Esme on his mind. “Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem.” Avery chuckled. “But I had to come and see you. I’ve just been the recipient of the most astonishing bit of gossip from my valet.”

Ah, the gossip. Richard was coming to regret the decision to allow his servants to spread tales that he and Esme had been intimate just to salvage her pride. “And what would that be?”

“Is it true you dabbled with the Lady Heathcote?” Avery stared pointedly across the terrace to Esme. “You risk your appendage to frostbite there.”

He risked being scorched.
The woman was wild and he certainly intended to explore every inch of her body, discover everything she liked most and do it to her repeatedly. He clenched his jaw, astonished how just thinking of fucking her caused his cock to thicken.

“I guess your distraction answers that question. Despite the temper, she is lovely?” Avery snorted. “When I saw the guest list, I must admit I was entirely taken aback. I thought she didn’t like you. Didn’t you two exchange strong words? Some claim it was a lover’s tiff but I didn’t believe it at the time.”

They had frequently been at odds. But Richard would give their arguments entirely just to hear her moan his name again in the heat of passion over and over again. “She likes me enough.”

That was also a problem. Despite becoming lovers last night, he had no idea how to go on with her. Esme had brushed aside suggestions to make a night of it and retired to her bedchamber alone last night. Richard had accepted but not liked her refusal terribly much, and had made a cursory circuit of his home before he too headed to his bed alone. They hadn’t spoken this morning beyond common courtesies. Esme had immersed herself in conversation with the other guests and barely glanced his way after that. Normally, a lack of polite conversation with her wouldn’t concern him, but he would give everything he owned to know how she viewed last night. And him.

The group Esme had been sitting with broke up and she excused herself from them to walk into the garden with Jillian. He tracked her movements, his body already awakening to the idea of a daylight tryst. A romp in a sun-filled glade with Esme would fill his mind with clearer images of the body he’d made love to last night. She was much softer than he’d imagined. Not weak but strong and flexible.

She and Jillian stopped to converse beside the fountain and he took a pace forward. Was Esme going to mention her disapproval of her relationship with Lord Hogan? He watched Jillian closely and although she did not seem outraged, she did grow more subdued during the conversation. Esme was upsetting her, but then they embraced and everything appeared to be congenial once more.