Seduction Becomes Her (28 page)

Even before the first stone crumbled beneath her hand, Charles’s arm was about her waist, jerking her back from the ragged gap that suddenly appeared. She had been in no danger of falling, but she was grateful for his quick action.

Smiling up at him, she said, “Thank you.”

Staring down into her dirty face, a smudge darkening one cheek, traces of plaster dust and God knew what else scattered across her features, Charles’s heart clenched, an up-welling of love for her so strong flowing through him, he could barely contain it. Her neat chignon with which she had started the day was half undone, and tendrils of cobwebbed hair waved wildly about her cheeks, but even with her grimy face and soiled gown, Charles thought she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He adored her. And she thought him, he reminded himself grimly, merely useful in accomplishing her desire to see Adrian and April established amongst the highest reaches of the
ton
.

As the moments spun out, Daphne’s smile faltered. “What is it?” she asked softly. “What makes you look so?”

He forced a crooked smile. “Nothing of importance,” he said. Setting her away from him, he turned back toward the staircase and remarked over his shoulder, “I was only thinking that few brides would be so indulgent and understanding as you have been. I am, indeed, a fortunate man.”

Puzzled and deeply troubled, Daphne followed him as he began the downward descent. His words should have reassured her, but they did not. How could they when he made the word fortunate sound like a curse?

C
harles and Daphne wasted no time in returning to their rooms. Guided by the dancing light of the candle, they carefully made their way down the winding steps. The steep descent made haste impractical, but soon enough, they were stepping off the hidden staircase and through the doorway in the wall of Daphne’s bedroom.

Looking around at the destruction they had wrought, the pile of broken and splintered laths and the chunks of plaster with bits and pieces of wallpaper still clinging to them, Daphne muttered, “You know that there is no way that we can keep this secret. Even if we could dispose of all signs of our, um, handiwork, there would still be that exposed oak wall. Worse, I’m sure that by now, Goodson will have divulged all to Mrs. Hutton. I wouldn’t be surprised if within five minutes of Goodson’s talking to Mrs. Hutton, the entire staff knew that we were up to something most unusual.” She made a face. “Since Goodson and Mrs. Hutton are such bosom friends with Ketty, it is inevitable that she will learn of today’s doings, and if Ketty knows…”

Idly moving a piece of plaster with his boot, Charles nodded. “If Ketty knows, then Adrian and April will soon hear of it.” His gaze met hers. “So how much do we tell and when?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, walking over to the secret doorway. Trying to slide the door shut, she said, “It’s all a bit impossible to take in, and as for what the others are going to think…” She shook her head, repeating, “It’s impossible.” Despite her yanking and pulling on it, the door would not move, but with Charles’s help, they were able to finally muscle it back into place. Daphne glared at the scarred and pock-marked oak paneling. “I thought shutting the door would make me feel better,” she complained, “but it doesn’t.”

“Perhaps after a bath and dinner, it won’t seem so
very
impossible,” Charles replied with a smile.

She twisted around to look at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Charles shrugged. “Well, it is rather an adventure, isn’t it? I’ll wager a fair sum that you’re going to be hard-pressed to keep Adrian from exploring the moment he hears of it.”

Daphne cocked her head at him. “And your cousins and Nell? What are they going to think?”

Charles grinned. “Oh, Marcus and Julian will be right on Adrian’s heels…with Nell following close behind.”

“They won’t think it strange? Especially if we mention the reason
why
we were prompted to take a sledgehammer and crowbar to a perfectly good wall?”

“Julian, Marcus, and Nell would probably take a ghost in stride, considering the previous events. Adrian would consider it a great lark.” He looked thoughtful. “Although I don’t believe that April is as fragile as you think, she and Miss Ketty might present problems.”

“Miss Ketty will definitely be a problem, and I disagree with you about April. Hearing that a ghost really is floating about the house would not be best for her state of mind.” Daphne frowned. “I suppose we could keep quiet about the ghost—make up some story for our decision to inspect this particular area behind the wallpaper.”

Charles looked interested. “Perhaps. What do you propose? That one of us noticed the outline of the door, and overcome with curiosity, we set to work?”

“Something like that. However, it does seem that our actions were a bit extreme for idle curiosity.”

“I agree. Adrian, April, and Ketty would probably swallow the story, but I doubt my cousins would.”

“But would they question you? Or would they accept it, even suspecting we weren’t quite telling the truth?”

Charles stared at the newly exposed oak paneling. “I think,” he said slowly, “if we lay the blame on you, we can skim by.” When Daphne just stared at him, he added quickly, “Stop and think, Daffy. My family doesn’t know you very well yet. How do they know what queer ideas you might get in that pretty little head of yours? They are much more likely to believe that you were the one who discerned the vague outline of a doorway behind the wallpaper. Which is,” he pointed out with a grin, “the truth.” Warming to his theme, he continued, “Once you had seen the outline, nothing would stop you until you saw for yourself whether or not a doorway actually existed. Julian and the others will assume that I, being newly married and indulgent of my bride, merely humored you when you suggested, er, removing the wallpaper. Of course, no one,” he said virtuously, “was more shocked by what we found than I was.” His grin widened. “They might think it odd or peculiar of you to decide to wreck a perfectly good wall in pursuit of something you thought you saw, but they would probably shrug it off. But if I am the one…well, they would immediately know that I was running a rig of some sort.”

Daphne wanted to argue, but there was much truth in what Charles said. She hated having his relatives think that she was so shatterbrained that on little more than a whim, she attacked her bedroom wall with sledgehammer and crowbar. But then, she reminded herself, they
had
found a secret door and staircase, so her whim had not been without merit.

Feeling a trifle better about it, she nodded. “Very well. We shall tell them that I was convinced that I had spied the outline of a doorway behind the wallpaper and that you, um, humored me and helped me make our discovery.”

They both turned to stare at the debris scattered across the floor of Daphne’s bedroom. “We shall have to tell the same tale to the servants,” Charles said.

Daphne sighed. “I know.” She wrinkled her nose. “I shall
so
enjoy being thought a perfect pea-goose by one and all.”

“You’re fair and far off with that thinking! Your intuition led to the discovery of a secret staircase, and that, my dear, will have everyone believing that you are too clever by half.”

Daphne shrugged and looked down at her ruined gown. “I don’t want to be thought of as clever, right now; all I want is a bath and a change of clothes.”

It was fortunate that both Daphne’s and Charles’s dressing rooms could be gained by the servants’ stairs and that by closing the door between Daphne’s bedchamber and the dressing room, all signs of their handiwork were out of sight. Having rung for baths for each of them, they parted, Charles entering his own private dressing room while Daphne rummaged through her armoire for a change of clothes.

Mindful of what lay on the other side of the door, once the hot water had been carried upstairs from the kitchen and poured into the big copper tub, Daphne dismissed her maid, telling her she would ring for her when, or if, she needed her attention. The bath was heavenly, and aware for the first time of aching muscles, she lingered in the warm water. She had washed her hair and skewered the dripping mass on top of her head with a large carved wooden pin. Her skin was all pink and rosy from a thorough scrubbing, and nearly boneless with relaxation, she lay her head back against the rim of the copper tub, closed her eyes, and sighed extravagantly.

“My sentiments precisely,” drawled Charles as he stepped through the door between her dressing room and her bedroom.

Daphne sat up with a shriek. “You startled me,” she confessed, guessing from his damp hair and the robe he wore that he had already bathed. Staring at the silky black hair that sprouted in the deep V neckline of the robe, she also guessed that he was naked under the garment. Their eyes met, and the expression in his green gaze made her pulse leap and a tickle of desire kick through her.

Crossing to the satin dressing stool, he picked up a heavy white towel. With a decidedly carnal curve to his full mouth, he murmured, “I apologize, but I fear, my dear, that I intend to do far worse to you than startle you.”

In one swift movement, he pulled her from the tub and gathered the towel around her naked body. Clamping her next to him, his mouth found hers, and he kissed her with a heat and hunger that sent lightning sizzling through Daphne. Breathless and dazzled by his kiss, when he swung her up into his arms and carried her into her bedroom, after it must be noted, shutting the door to the dressing room firmly behind him, she offered no resistance. A purely masculine smile on his face, he said, “Oh, yes, I shall certainly do much more than startle you. Much,
much
more.” And dropping her onto the bed, he jerked the towel away and tossed it on the floor.

Their lovemaking had always taken place at night in the concealing darkness and beneath a decent covering of sheets. Daphne was suddenly very aware that despite the lateness of the day and increasing clouds, intermittent sunlight still shone into the room…and she was lying totally naked and exposed before her husband’s roving gaze. Overcome with shyness, she flushed and sought to cover herself, but Charles gently swatted away her hands and said softly, “No, no, sweet, though our marriage is only a few weeks old, we have gone far beyond mere modesty.”

That wasn’t precisely true, Daphne thought half hysterically—they might know each other’s body
in the dark
but not in daylight! And with, she decided resentfully, one of them still clothed.

Burning with embarrassment, miserably aware of her own nakedness, she muttered, “That’s easy for you to say—you’re still clothed.”

“Easily rectified.”

He stripped off his robe, and it joined the towel on the floor by the bed.

Staring at all the muscled male beauty before her, Daphne forgot her own nakedness. He had made love to her numerous times, she had touched and fondled that splendid body to her heart’s content, but she had never actually seen him completely naked. She could not have looked away if her life depended upon it. He was beautiful, she thought giddily, her eyes traveling across the broad shoulders, wide chest, and down to the hard, flat belly. She gasped when her gaze found the thick, bulging rod springing up from the mat of black hair between his strong thighs. Oh, my. Wasn’t
that
simply magnificent!

“If you don’t stop eating me with your eyes, I am afraid that you will ruin my plans for a feast.”

Her eyes bright with budding desire, Daphne jerked her admiring gaze upward to meet his eyes. “Y-y-your feast?”

“Hmmm, yes,” he murmured as he sank down onto the bed beside her. “You. You look…luscious.”

Even with him lying equally naked beside her, Daphne was miserably conscious of the spill of sunlight into the room, of the fact that he could
see
her, and every flaw of her less than perfect body. She was aware of her too small breasts and boyish hips, parts of her that were always decently hidden by clothing or blankets or darkness. It was one thing to be bold and brazen in bed in the dark, but another to be lying here without wearing a stitch of clothes with the sun still in the sky! She wiggled around, trying to conceal her nakedness by dragging up a small portion of the coverlet, but Charles would have none of it.

Flipping back the coverlet, he ran a caressing hand over her shoulder and arm. “Still shy of me?” he asked softly, the expression in his eyes making her feel as if she was sinking into a pool of mulled wine.

“It seems so strange to be, uh, undressed during the day,” she offered uncertainly. “There is so much…light.”

“All the better to view the lovely sight before me,” he crooned, cupping one breast. “Just like this round little dumpling.”

His hand on her breast was heavenly, spirals of pleasure radiating outward wherever he touched. She licked her lip. “It, they aren’t very big.”

“No,” he agreed gently, “not big, just perfect.” Fondling her bosom, he added, “You see how they fit my hand. Perfectly.” He kissed her, his mouth warm and coaxing. When his head lifted, Daphne moaned in protest, needing, wanting more. His eyes darkened as they met hers. “And you are mine, all mine.”

Charles’s gaze dropped to her breasts, the nipples tight and rosy. Flicking a finger over one sweet nipple, he said, “I find I am in the mood for strawberries.” He bent and lightly closed his teeth over her nipple, and Daphne arched, delight streaking from her head to her toes. “No, not strawberries,” he said against her breast, “raspberries. Small, ripe, and all mine.”

He tasted the other nipple, his hands beginning a long, slow glide down her body. Fire and desire thrummed in his veins as he tasted and bit and suckled her breasts. Her skin was soft and smooth, like the finest silk, and he wanted to stroke reverently and grab with primitive abandon at the same time. He wanted her. Wanted to taste and sample every tempting inch of her in every imaginable way. Wanted her beneath him. On top of him. Locked around him. Wanted her beyond life itself.

Daphne gave herself up to the moment, conscious of the delicious weakness in her limbs, conscious of the glowing warmth flooding her. Every tug of his mouth on her nipples sent a wave of longing through her, every touch of his hands aroused an ache that begged to be soothed. She pushed her hips up against his groin, purring with pleasure when his swollen member lodged against her cleft. Flinging one leg over him, she rubbed along the thick length of him, her breathing uneven and rapid when he rubbed back, increasing her desire.

Her hands explored at will, down his back, over his taut buttocks, even dipping daringly lower to caress and cup the tight sack between his thighs, and Charles thought he would explode when she touched him there. His plan for a long, slow seduction nearly went by the wayside in that moment, but with a groan, he moved away from her, his body slipping lower, his mouth sliding across her belly, downward, seeking the heart and heat of her.

When he buried his mouth in the curls between her thighs, when his tongue probed and his teeth scraped gently against the delicate flesh he found there, Daphne stiffened, astonished and just a little alarmed at what he was doing. Her first instinct was to stop him from such a lascivious, surely depraved act, but then his tongue swirled over a particularly sensitive spot, and hot, wanton pleasure washed through her, leaving only stunned acceptance in its wake. Stopping him was beyond her, the new emotions, sensations so intense she could only writhe beneath his wicked, knowing mouth and his able, clever fingers that he used so well. When ecstasy took her, she went willingly, spinning wildly into the velvet abyss.