The Seduction of His Wife (11 page)

He was a patient man. He’d wait here until she was ready to face the day. The door pulled inward to reveal his wife. She looked elegant in a sun-yellow walking dress and straw bonnet with matching satin ties. The color added a spark of mischief to her eyes and a spot of pink to her cheeks.

Emma was like a night-blooming water lily, her beauty locked tightly away from the world, showing its true self only under the pale caress of moonlight. In an unguarded moment.

Not that he’d ever chanced to see her that way. Not yet. It was a matter of figuring out how to tear away the shield of modesty she wore like a chastity belt.

“Good morning, Emma.”

She dipped her head on a curtsy.

He offered his arm. “Where do you escape to on this fine sunny morning?” It never hurt to charm a woman. He would win her over. He was a determined man.

That got a grin out of her, and her arm through his.

“I’m to meet with my sisters for an early-morning constitutional.”

“Might I join you?”

She raised one blonde-winged brow. “I have no objection.”

Perhaps throughout the morning he could charm his wife into a more agreeable mood—and her sisters while he was at it. If he had the other Hallaways on his side, this wooing—or whatever the hell he was doing—should unfold more smoothly.

Arm in arm, they met Grace and Abby in the back gardens. Both sisters frowned at his appearance. Ah, this was something the sisters did together. Emma had let him come along knowing her sisters would see his presence as an intrusion.

Abby scrunched up her brows in disdain. “Does Mr. Lioni plan to join us in our outdoor excursion since we are making this an event for all?”

He gave the youngest sister his most charming smile. “I cannot say. He’s an early riser, so there’s always a chance he might catch up with us at some point.”

Abby said nothing more; it was as though she were sulking at his interference. Grace, on the other hand, smiled and winked in his direction.

They walked down the great limestone slab path in twos. Rows of flowers lined the way, filling their morning with a multitude of colors and fresh, sweet scents. Candytufts to attract butterflies, red roses to add color, white delphiniums mixed in with the splotches of crimson.

His mother had kept this garden going when he was a child. Had spent hours at a time out here with him. He couldn’t remember his father keeping up the gardens after she had died. This all must be his wife’s doing. He glanced at her, but she focused straight ahead, hardly paying attention to him.

“The gardens are beautiful.”

That got him a small smile. “Grace helped me when she started spending the summers here a few years ago.”

“Beautiful. Regardless of how you accomplished it.”

“Thank you.”

His wife was more shy than normal. She was quiet. Contemplative.

Dante caught up with them ten minutes into their walk. It gave Richard the perfect opportunity to steal his wife away from her sisters.

Slowing his and Emma’s steps so they could talk without being overheard, he said, “You’ve done a fine job in ignoring me this week, Emma.”

“Have I?” She did not look at him when she answered. Instead, she kept her attention focused on her hand, where she brushed over the soft petals of a black-eyed Susan that stood tall in the path they walked along. Pinching the stem up high, he plucked one of the flowers for her.

He stopped and pressed a finger under her chin, angling her face toward him. He settled the flower so the stem was tucked behind her ear, the yellow petals just peeking out from beneath her bonnet.

“You’ve hardly said a word.”

She studied his face, then turned away and gave him a tug to continue down the dirt path. “I had a restless night.”

He looked her over. Sure enough, the whites of her eyes were lined in red, dark circles shadowed beneath. “Do you want to rest a moment? We can catch up to your sisters afterward.”

“Is this some trick to get me alone?”

“Possibly.”

Though getting her alone had its merits, he now noticed her weary look, and her slow steps had them lagging behind the rest of the company.

“Ladies,” he called after her sisters, “we’re resting here under the trees.”

Dante seemed happy to have the two beautiful ladies on his arms all to himself. With a nod in Richard’s direction, Dante wheeled them back around on the path and continued on. Abby gave him a long look over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes.

Richard led his wife over to a pair of tall trees so they could sit in the shade. Releasing the tie on her bonnet, Emma sat in the shade of a large oak, twirling the flower he’d given her between her fingers. She tossed her bonnet aside, lay back with a sigh on the grass, and closed her eyes. Her hands were folded over her ribs, her legs curled to the side and hidden under the swath of light yellow silk she wore.

Hiking up his trousers at the knee, he sat next to her, one knee bent for his arm to rest upon. He tossed his hat in the general direction of his wife’s and stared down at her reclined form. Unable, and unwilling, to resist touching her soft skin, he ran the back of one finger down her rosy cheek. She gave a soft sigh, and her eyes cracked open to watch him.

“What were you doing last night that you didn’t sleep?”

She covered her mouth on a yawn. “Went to bed much later than I planned.”

“You’re evading my question.”

“I know.” Her eyes now seemed sharp as a leopard eyeing her potential mate. “Tell me something … Would most men be as patient with their wives as you have been?”

He shrugged. “I can’t say with any certainty that I’ve done anything right this past week. Not where you’re concerned.” It was an honest answer.

She took a long inhalation and turned her head away from him to look at the branches of the tree above them.

She stretched her hands above her head. The strain of her breasts against the stripes of her dress was torture to him. “What would you do if I gave you admittance to my room tonight?”

“I’d come.”

Was it possible that he’d won her over after a week of following her around like some pathetic puppy starved for attention?

“Will everything change once you get what you came here for? Will you leave for London when I’m with child?”

He considered her questions carefully. It hadn’t been a matter of coming home and starting a family. But there was the matter of his business, old and new.

“I can make no promises, Emma. All I know is I won’t be leaving London for any stretch of time in the near future. My business now not only brings me home, but also keeps me home.”

Emma stared at him with those impenetrable green eyes of hers for so long, he was sure she’d change her mind.

“I propose a deal,” she said.

Women always made deals that benefited them. He nodded for her to continue, despite the unease worming around in his mind.

“You made a suggestion that I’ve been thinking about a great deal.” She worried her lip. “This decision wasn’t easy for me. But perhaps, if I am not with child by the time you leave, we should petition for a divorce.”

“Do you have someone else in mind for marriage?” He hated to ask, but had to know. God help him if she did. He’d kill the man, whoever he was. Richard didn’t care if that man was a bloody duke.

“No.” There was nothing in her gaze to suggest she lied. “I just don’t wish to spend the next twelve years alone. Your father was a wonderful companion for a girl who knew nothing of the world, and then my sisters were there for me when he passed away. But Abby will hopefully be married soon, and Grace won’t be by my side forever.”

“I can’t see myself traveling farther than London.”

Besides, he wanted to be present in his child’s life. Though he hadn’t gotten along with his father, the old man had always been there. Nagging, nagging, nagging to do what was right for his position, but the old man had still been a constant in his life. His mother, too, had always been there for him when she was alive.

“If I were to agree to petition for divorce should our arrangement not be to your liking, you’d admit me to your bedchamber?”

“Yes.” No artifice tainted her voice.

“A divorce would ruin you, Emma. You’d be shunned from society.” He pushed his hand through his hair in frustration. How could she want that for herself? “Have you thought how you would live?”

Her fingers stretched out into the grass, toying with the green blades. Did she not want him in her life after all their years apart? He scratched at his jaw. It was a possibility, and that sudden realization sat like a rock in his stomach.

“The only thing I know with certainty is that I can’t continue to live as I am.”

“Divorce would do neither of us any favors. I want more time before you make a decision, Emma. Give me two months.”

“If you stay for two months, the time is yours.” He knew she mulled over her answer. “If you leave before then we will petition for divorce.”

“I don’t plan on leaving, Emma.”

She looked at him in disbelief. He supposed he’d never given her reason to believe otherwise.

He didn’t know a great deal about divorce, only that it was a long, tedious process. He nodded his agreement to her demand, knowing he would do everything within his power to change his wife’s mind.

Unwilling to resist touching her since she’d agreed to let him in her bedchamber, he rubbed his thumb down the center of her lips, parting them. Not one protest passed her lips. He picked up the discarded flower she’d set on the grass beside her, and ran it over her cheek and lips in a feather-like caress.

He leaned in close to her face, his actions full of suggestion. He scanned the area around them. They were quite alone.

“We can start now,” he suggested

The hitch in her breath was palpable enough to make his heart beat faster in anticipation.

“We shouldn’t.”

Tossing the flower to the side, he lowered his lips to hers. He just wanted a small taste of what his wife offered. Her lips were soft, full. Running his tongue along the length of her upper lip, he tasted the sweet remnants of peaches before pulling at it and then releasing her.

She returned the kiss, lick for lick, nibble for nibble. His hand had found its way to her silk-covered breast, his fingers rubbing across the slightest distention of her nipple.

The last thing he wanted to do was stop. But if he didn’t, they’d be here for the greater part of the afternoon and with decidedly fewer clothes on.

He stared down at her. Her pupils were dilated, the green eaten up by a blazing black. With a groan that had everything to do with denying his need to have her, he reluctantly got to his feet and offered her a hand.

“We should go back to the house before we’re missed.”

She placed her gloved hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. He released her, knowing if he didn’t he’d let himself be led around by his prick.

“Before we go, I have something for you.” He pulled out the envelope he’d kept in his breast pocket. “This arrived yesterday.” He handed it over, watching her expression carefully.

Her brows furrowed as she took the letter and flipped it over to see the seal. There was nothing in her expression to suggest she wished the letter to remain a secret.

“Why are you only giving it to me now?”

He shrugged and took her arm. “Forgot I had it.”

He was expecting a more telling reaction from her. Maybe a blush when she read the letter, or a hitch in her breath at seeing who it was from. Maybe she’d practiced hiding any revealing actions toward her lovers?

She leaned on his arm in silence, while he burned with a million questions about tonight and the nights thereafter. He asked none of the questions on his mind. It wasn’t the right time.

Before they could enter the French doors to the study, Emma pulled him to a stop. “Ten o’clock sharp, Richard.”

She didn’t wait for a response, just opened the door and walked toward her sisters, muttering something about setting up an early luncheon.

*   *   *

A knock came at the adjoining door between their bedchambers at precisely ten o’clock. Her maid stood up from where she was turning down the bedding, and stared at her mistress. Emma nodded, indicating that she could leave.

The only hint the maid was gone was a draft that picked up loose tendrils of hair to feather against Emma’s cheek and forehead where she stood in the middle of her room. Her bare toes curled into the carpet.

“Come in,” she called out.

She hadn’t locked the door between their rooms. She’d not refuse him now. She’d thought long and hard about taking this next step.

Richard pushed the door open and stood framed in the entry. He made an impressive figure with his shirt untucked from his trousers, his hair tousled as though he’d just run his hands through it. His expression was smug, maybe even a little victorious for winning entrance to her bed. Not that it had been a competition in holding out.

Her decision had not been made lightly. There was a great risk in all this; the possibility that she’d lose her heart to him again. The only reason she’d allowed this interaction was because she desired him. Desired to know the feel of a man holding her, taking her, loving her body. But what would accepting him mean to her art?

She closed her eyes and banished the thoughts. She’d been over this a hundred times. She had made her decision.

She waited for him to say something, or do something. The silence was so palpable between them, she held her breath so as not to break the growing tension. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked at her bed. There was a lone oil lamp in the room, letting off just enough light that they could see each other. He walked toward her, leaving the door between their rooms open.

“Good evening, wife.”

“Good evening.”

His touch was light on her shoulder, and he gave it a squeeze as if she needed reassurance. He was herding her closer to the bed with small steps. Before she knew it, she was sitting on the edge. The bed dipped down near her hip with his weight. His hand pulled the edge of her nightgown high up on her thighs. His hands were rough where they stroked along her legs.