Her Errant Earl (10 page)

He fused their mouths in a searing, open-mouthed kiss as he
joined her on the bed. Warm, wet heat pooled between her thighs. He brushed a
tantalizing caress over her breasts, his thumbs toying with her hard nipples.
She arched into him, sucking his tongue into her mouth, unable to get enough.
He broke away to suckle the peak of her breast. His fingers went unerringly to
the aching bud of her sex, working it back and forth until she was nearly mad.

“Mmm,” he murmured, tonguing the taut nipple of her other
breast as he gazed up at her. “I adore the way your body responds to me, my
love.”

He slid a finger inside her then. She eagerly opened her
legs wider, thrusting her hips into his delicious rhythm. Another finger joined
the first. She moaned, her fingers sifting through his silken hair as he
tortured her responsive breasts with his mouth.

“I want you desperate for me,” he whispered, his voice a
deep, rumbling seduction all its own.

Dear heavens, she was, but he had rendered her incapable of
speaking. She moaned again as he kissed a path down over the curve of her
belly. He buried his face between her legs. When he sucked upon the nub of her
sex with ever-increasing insistence, it was only a matter of time before she
climaxed, her body shuddering with the aftermath of her pleasure.

He rose once more, his powerful body atop hers, pinning her
to the bed. She wanted to bring him the same fulfillment he brought her. “Your
turn,” she murmured, putting her hands on his shoulders and guiding him down to
the bed so that he traded places with her.

She met his gaze, reveling in the unabashed desire she saw
reflected in their smoky depths. She had no idea what she was doing, only that
she wanted to bestow upon him the same sensations he had given her. It was the
ultimate gesture of her love for him. She lowered her head and took his rigid
cock into her mouth as deeply as she could. He was smoother than she’d
expected. She ran her tongue up and down his length, then sucked.

“Christ, darling,” he groaned after a time. “You’re going to
bloody well kill me.”

She smiled against him, continuing to suck and tease his
arousal. It was wanton of her, she knew, but she loved giving him the same
bliss he’d given her. Just when his body began to stiffen beneath hers, he
caught her shoulders and hauled her atop him. She was breathless, incited by
the pressure of him between her legs.

He guided her limbs so that she was fitted comfortably
against him. “Rise up a bit, darling,” he directed, his hands on her waist.
“That’s it.”

With one swift thrust, he was inside her. She emitted a
startled exclamation. Good heavens, she was atop him. She hadn’t realized
lovemaking could be done this way as well. It seemed she had much to learn.

“Ride me, my girl,” he murmured, helping her into a
delicious rhythm.

Her unbound curls swept down like a curtain around them.
Their gazes locked as he surged inside her again and again. She found she
rather liked the feeling of power her position gave her. Leaning down, she
kissed him once more. Their tongues tangled, mouths sealed as their bodies
rocked together as one.

Passion crashed over her like waves upon a shore until she
could no longer resist the pull of the tide. She was swept away, helplessly
overcome, her sheath tightening upon him in spasm after spasm of release. He
pumped faster, moving deeper until he too let go. The hot spurt of his seed
went inside her as she collapsed against his chest, thoroughly spent.

They were both silent for an indeterminate amount of time,
the only sound their equally ragged breathing. William ran his hand gently up
and down her back in a soothing motion and gave her a swift kiss.

“If you don’t mind, my dear, I just may ask Lady Strathmore
to intrude upon my chamber every day if it creates that sort of response in
you,” he said softly, a teasing note in his voice.

His ridiculous humor had her smiling. “Don’t you dare,” she
warned without rancor. “If I ever see her again, I swear I shall tear the false
hair right from her head.”

He laughed, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Now that is
something I’d almost like to see, my love.”

“Say it again,” she ordered on a sigh.

“Now that is something—”

“No,” she interrupted, giggling herself. “The other part.”

“My love.”

She sighed again. How she loved him. “I love you, William.”

“I love you too, my dear,” he said without hesitation.

Tangled up in one another’s arms, they went to dreamless
sleep.

The next two days passed for Victoria in a state of utter
bliss. She and her husband lingered in bed mornings and afternoons alike,
making love to one another until she knew every inch of his body and he hers.
It was all very much like a dream from which she had no intention of waking.
Ever.

But their idyll wasn’t meant to last, it seemed.

The duke had arrived, and his first order of business was an
audience with Victoria. The summons came as a surprise to both her and William.
Afternoon light filtered into her chamber as she prepared for the undoubtedly
uncomfortable meeting to come. Keats was putting the finishing touches upon her
hair.

“Do you think my dress too forward?” She frowned at her
reflection as she asked the question of William, who had joined her in her
chamber, similarly concerned by his father’s odd request.

The duke had refused to greet either of them at his arrival.
Instead, he had demanded luncheon in his rooms and a nap, in that particular
order. She and William had been secretly relieved by the respite, but now it
appeared they would no longer remain so fortunate.

“I think your dress is splendid,” William drawled, meeting
her gaze in the looking glass. “And if the old codger doesn’t like it, he can
bloody well go to hell.”

“My lord,” she scolded, aware of her lady’s maid’s keen
ears. “You mustn’t speak thus of your father.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like him, and I don’t care who knows
it.”

She sighed, her nervousness threatening to get the best of
her. She wanted to make a good impression upon her husband’s father. The duke
was a grand man and she felt it of great import to conduct herself with the
grace befitting a countess. She didn’t want the man to make life more difficult
for William. Perhaps, she’d reasoned to herself, if she could earn the duke’s
respect, she could ease the troubled relationship between father and son.

“I want to do well by you,” she told her husband. “It
wouldn’t do if he thought me an uncouth American bumpkin.”

“There’s no danger of him thinking that, my dear,” William
assured her, his visage grave. “None at all.”

She wished she could ask him why he’d grown so very serious,
but she was ever aware of Keats’ presence. Instead, she continued her
preparations in silence, feeling as if she were the lamb being readied for
slaughter. It was most disconcerting.

* * * * *

The duke awaited her in the drawing room. Wilton announced
her with a severity she’d supposed only reserved for funerals. Indeed, there
was something somber about the entire affair, she thought as she entered the
room.

After having spent so much time in her husband’s presence,
she noted the similarities between William and his father at once. They had the
same dark mane of hair, though the duke’s was dusted lightly with strands of
gray and was heavily greased. His eyes were as blue and probing. The way he
carried himself was stiffer and yet still reminiscent of Pembroke, with a
signature aura of arrogance. The elder’s whiskers, however, were quite pronounced,
his mustache so large it nearly took on the appearance of a small creature.

The effect was almost laughable. She tamped down an
inappropriate giggle bubbling up within her throat. Dear heavens, she couldn’t
make light of the august man. He held so much of her future within his
age-spotted paws.

The duke made an imperious gesture that she supposed meant
she ought to sit. Gingerly, she lowered herself to the edge of a particularly
uncomfortable settee. The drawing room seemed somehow more imposing with the
duke’s mere presence. She fussed with the fall of her gown, attempting to hide
her nervousness.

“My dear daughter,” he said when he too had taken his seat
once more. “I understand you’ve flourished here at Carrington House.”

She was under the impression only plants flourished, not
people, but she wisely kept that opinion to herself. “I’ve merely done my
duty.”

“You have not, my lady.” His voice was stern, unforgiving.

His assertion startled her. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”
she was bold enough to question him, perhaps a character trait that was down to
her proud American heritage. She had worked wonders upon the estate, and with
an absentee husband no less. How dare the old curmudgeon suggest she had
somehow fallen short of his expectations?

“You are to provide an heir.” He impaled her with an
impenetrable glare. “You have not done so.”

Goodness. She hadn’t been prepared to speak of such a
delicate matter with him. She’d never grow entirely accustomed to the English
and their odd notions. She took care in crafting her response. “Your Grace, the
fault of this does not entirely belong to me.”

“I’m well aware of Pembroke’s shortcomings,” the duke
growled. “It’s his mother’s blood he has running through his veins. But that’s
neither here nor there. I understand that he obeyed me for the first time in
his misbegotten life and has returned to share the marital bed with you.”

Victoria stared, shock nearly rendering her speechless. “I
beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

“You heard me aright,” he snapped. “The earl has begun
sharing the marital bed with you as I’ve asked. It’s half a year too late, but
I’m counting myself fortunate that it’s better late than never.”

Dear God. He was saying that Pembroke had come to her
because of an edict he’d given him. How many times had her husband told her he
had returned a changed man, that he wanted a new beginning? It couldn’t be that
he’d been lying to her after all.

Could it? She pressed her fingers to her suddenly throbbing
temples. Her entire world was spinning around her. She didn’t know if she was
going to faint or scream. His words shuffled back through her mind like a deck
of cards.

I shall try not to hurt you again, Victoria.

Victoria, I’ve missed you.

I’ve come back to Carrington House because I want to
start anew.

I love you too, my dear.

Had everything been a pretense? Her greatest fear had been
that Pembroke had not come to her in honesty. Had he not? Dread skewered her.
She shouldn’t be surprised by the duke’s disclosure. She should not have fallen
for her husband’s handsome looks, charm and knowing hands.

But she had.

“You appear startled, my lady,” the duke observed. “Pray
forgive me my plain speaking, but I’ve never been one to mince words. The plain
truth of the matter is that Pembroke needs a male heir, or when he and I pass
on to our rewards, the man next in line is an unsuitable, bumbling country
fool. Our family has possessed these lands for centuries. For them and the
title to go to anyone other than the rightful heir would be a sacrilege.”

She swallowed, trying to calm her madly beating heart and
assuage the awful sense of betrayal overtaking her. “I do understand the need
for an heir, Your Grace. You said Pembroke obeyed you. May I be so daring as to
ask you what you meant?”

The duke’s eyes narrowed in what she assumed was suspicion.
“Forward lot, you Americans.” He sighed, apparently put out by her lack of fine
English manners. “I’ve discovered that Pembroke requires an impetus for
everything. I threatened to cut him off unless he returned to you and carried
out his family obligations.”

Oh dear heavens. If her heart had been a finely cut crystal
goblet, it would have been dashed into hundreds of infinitesimal shards in that
instant. She wasn’t so fortunate. Her heart wasn’t an object, and it hurt with
an intensity that blindsided her. She wanted to leave the drawing room. Her
lungs felt as if they could no longer hold air.

This was far worse than Pembroke’s original abandonment of
her. He had made love to her, lied to her, connived and betrayed her all in the
name of money. Her stomach gave a surge and she feared she’d embarrass herself
before the duke.

“I’m led to believe Pembroke didn’t share his motivations
for suddenly returning to play husband,” the duke unkindly observed.

She took a steadying breath. “He did not.”

“Ah.” He paused, considering her. “Surely you realize what
sort of man he is, my dear. As I said, his mother’s blood flows through him. He
isn’t to be trusted.”

It sickened her that the duke spoke so frankly and with such
disdain for his own son. Of course, it would appear Pembroke deserved it, but
she found it appalling nonetheless. Little wonder her husband detested his
father. The sentiment appeared to be a mutual one.

“I fear I’m unwell, Your Grace.” She stood, her legs shaking
beneath the layers of her silk afternoon dress. “Please excuse me?”

He watched her in stony silence, his gaze still sharp as
rapiers. “You’d be wise not to allow your womanly sensibilities to impede your
common sense. Pembroke will get an heir on you because he must. It doesn’t
matter how it’s done, simply that it is.”

If she’d been nearer to him in proximity, she would have
slapped him, propriety be damned. She was shaken to her core, disgusted by
Pembroke as much as she was his father. She understood his reaction to the duke
now better than ever. The man was a toad who disparaged his own flesh and
thought of nothing other than his crumbling empire.

She raised her chin, forcing herself to be strong and not
allow the duke the last word. “You are wrong in that, Your Grace. There will be
no heir, for Pembroke will never touch me again.”

With that, she turned and beat a hasty retreat from the
room. The duke called after her, but she ignored him. She’d had all the
audiences with the awful man that she intended to ever have. Indeed, she wished
very much that she’d never laid eyes upon him and Pembroke both.

It wasn’t until after she was safely on the other side of
the closed door that she allowed the tears she’d been withholding to fall. She
rushed past Mrs. Morton, whose benevolent round visage plainly showed her
distress. Pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs, she rushed to the
privacy of her chamber before she humiliated herself any further. Once inside,
she locked her doors and threw herself upon the bed, allowing the full extent
of the duke’s revelation to sink into her stunned mind.

* * * * *

Later that evening, the expected knock came at her door. She
had deliberately avoided Pembroke and hadn’t gone down to dinner, pleading a
headache.

“Are you well, my dear?” Pembroke’s familiar voice sounded
from his chamber, his tone concerned.

She didn’t answer. She was too brokenhearted to form a
response. Victoria stopped in the act of pacing her chamber, hoping he would
simply go away. She didn’t think she could bear to see him just now.

“Victoria?”

Before she could even form a response, the door creaked
open, revealing her husband. Of course he would have a key. She hadn’t thought
that far. He wore a dressing gown, belted at the waist, and a worried
expression. “Whatever is the matter? It’s not like you to miss dinner.”

He started across the chamber, but she held up a staying
hand. “Don’t come any nearer to me.”

Pembroke did as she asked, a look of surprise replacing the
distress. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“I’m not your love.” She took a deep, bracing breath,
attempting to muster up the strength she would need to go to battle with him.
The duke’s revelation had left her shaken and weak.

“What are you on about?” He started forward again.

She retreated, eyeing him warily. “The duke told me the real
reason you’re here at Carrington House. He told me he threatened to cut you off
if you didn’t get me with child. I know that everything has been a lie.”

Her voice broke on the last sentence, but she refused to cry
before him. She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling dreadfully impotent.
He tried to come to her, take her in his arms, but she pushed at his chest,
refusing to be embraced. His face said everything she needed to know. It was
true. All of it. He’d deceived her over and over again. The anguish was almost
too much for her to bear.

“Victoria, I can explain.” He held up a placating hand.

“No you can’t. I don’t want to hear any more of your
falsehoods.”

“I came here for the wrong reasons,” he said, gripping her
arms to force her into stillness. “But I stayed for the right ones. I love you,
more than I ever thought possible.”

“You only love your own selfish gain,” she snapped. “Unhand
me.”

“Calm down at once,” he commanded. “By God, you’ve got to
listen to reason.”

Victoria tore herself from his grasp. “No. I won’t listen to
you. Get out now, or I’ll scream and bring all the servants down upon us.”

“You wouldn’t.” He reached for her again, this time taking
her icy hands in his. “I should have told you myself, and for that I apologize.
Surely one misunderstanding can’t erase all that’s happened between us.”

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding, Pembroke.” She searched his
gaze, trying to comprehend. “You deceived me from the first moment you came
here. You said you were here because you’d been remiss as a husband. You said
you missed me. I even asked you if you were here because the duke cut you off,
and you said no.”

“He hadn’t cut me off,” he countered. “That wasn’t a lie. He
was planning on it, yes, but he hadn’t actually done it. That much was the
truth.”

“That’s a mere formality and you know it. There was one
reason for your return, and it was so you could keep living your wastrel life.
God, I can’t believe how foolish I was to believe you.”

His grip on her tightened. “I don’t give a damn about my old
life. All of this, all of what we’ve shared, has been real, Victoria. This last
fortnight has been the best of my life. Don’t toss it away now over this, I beg
you.”

“It’s you who has tossed it away,” she said sadly, hating
him for what he’d done. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel the depth of
pain slicing through her now. He had promised not to hurt her again, but he
had, and worse than ever before. “I trusted you, did everything a proper wife
ought to. I ran your household, loved you, believed you when you told me Lady
Strathmore’s arrival was a mistake. Even when I caught her in your chamber, I
still allowed you to persuade me it was all innocent. What a fool I was. Did
you go to her that night while I was sleeping after we made love?”