Part 27 (1/2)

”Miranda, you are single-handedly holding up the procession,” Stanhope said with another very cool smile.

”I'm going, I'm going,” Lady Waterstone said with a laugh, and glided away on Lord Stanhope's arm.Ava glanced up at Harrison. He smiled so sadly that it struck her she was not the only one who guessedthat her husband and his lover had planned to meet so soon after he'd married. The knowledge stunnedher. She couldn't seem to move.

”Your husband is waiting,” Harrison said softly, and put out his arm.

Ava took Harrison's arm and let him lead her to Middleton, who was still engaged in conversation with the two gentlemen, but who smiled warmly when Harrison interrupted them. He put a possessive arm around her, pulled her tightly into his side, and made a small jest that he must keep his eye on her lest he lose her to some of the young men in attendance.

The two men laughed at his joke, and Ava smiled as she ought, but she felt ill. She could feel a pair of copper eyes on her from across the room, boring a hole through her, and in spite of Middleton's arm around her, she'd never felt so cold in her life.

Twenty-six.

J ared had thought the evening would never end-it was interminably long, the laughter and gaiety grating after a time, the situation extremely uncomfortable.

He was aware of Miranda's constant attention, could feel her gaze follow his every movement, could feel it burn him every time he touched his wife.

He should have known she would come-he even felt responsible for it somehow. Perhaps if he'd answered her letters instead of burning them, demanded she desist in writing him. Perhaps if he'd never taken her as mistress to begin with.

He felt trapped by his own devices.

After the ladies had retired from supper and the men had enjoyed their smoke, the s.e.xes were at last reunited. He'd hardly stepped into the room before Miranda cornered him. As she spoke to him, whispering her affection, attempting to share a laugh over Lord Frederick's desperate attempt at humor during supper, and very much pretending as if nothing had changed between them, he could not take his eyes from Ava. He didn't want to be rude, but he was acutely aware of the many looks in their direction, and simply walked away as Miranda was speaking, feeling all eyes on him.

Save one person-Ava did not look at him once.

How unfair it was to have put her in this position. How callous he was to have a.s.sumed that they would -both of them-live peacefully and without conscience in their arrangement. How b.l.o.o.d.y stupid of him to have believed they could.

He went to his wife and suggested they retire. She didn't seem surprised, nor did she hesitate to accompany him. They made their way out of the room, wis.h.i.+ng a cheerful good night all around, then just as a newlywed couple would, they walked out of the room, their arms around one another.

Ava dropped her arm the moment the door shut behind them. They walked silently to their suite.

Sally was waiting for them-Ava excused her and asked her to return in the morning. As Sally left, Ava turned around. She looked dejected as she walked into the adjoining dressing room and quietly shut the door.

Jared sighed, kicked off his shoes, and began to disrobe. He'd undressed to his trousers when Ava emerged, wearing a nightgown. Her hair was braided loosely down her back. She said nothing as she walked past him and slipped in between the sheets, her back to him.

Jared stared at her back and the long golden rope of hair. He'd never imagined it would be like this. He' d never thought, on the day he'd so rashly proposed marriage, that he would be so wretchedly unhappy, or that someone as vibrant as Ava could be so unhappy.

His head had begun to throb with a ma.s.sive headache, and he turned away from her, went to the dressing room, and completed his toilet. When he joined Ava in bed, he noted that she was pretending to be asleep. Her body was tense, her breathing shallow.

The wind had picked up outside; he could smell rain. The first crack of thunder confirmed it, and as the rain began to fall, the staccato sound of it on the paned gla.s.s windows soothed him.

Ava hadn't moved, but he knew she wasn't sleeping-he could feel the tension radiating from her. Ava Fairchild, who had so amused him with her unconquerable spirit, was lying beside him, the light in her gone out. He'd done that to her. He had doused that beautiful light.

”I'm sorry,” he said gruffly, surprising himself by voicing aloud his thoughts.

She didn't move.

He put his hand to her forearm, where she had pushed up the sleeve of her nightgown, and began to caress it, her skin smooth as silk beneath his palm. ”I'm sorry,” he said again, and he was, sorry for everything, sorry for the light, for hurting her, for ever having proposed to her.

As the rain intensified, he moved his hand to her hair, tangling it in the loose braid, pulling free thick silken strands, pulling it completely free as he catalogued in his mind the myriad things for which he was sorry.

The rain beat a steady rhythm on the paned gla.s.s and the fire hissed at the hearth. He didn't know exactly when Ava turned to him, but she pushed her face into his neck and wrapped her arms around him. His body warmed with her reaction-blood spread through him, creating an inevitable whirlpool of desire.

Her breath was warm on his neck, her lips soft and moist. But there was something else, too, that he felt on his shoulder: tears. They scored him, left a deep gash where they touched his skin. They made him insane, made him feel restless, full of the discomfort that had plagued him these last two months. And as more tears leaked out of her eyes, each one of them scarred him deeper than the last, each one of them leaving an indelible mark.

He had to erase those tears, had to get them off his shoulder. He suddenly came over her, pinning her beneath him.

”My lord,” she said, her voice full of weariness.

”Be still,” he said roughly, and when she turned her head to one side, he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. Ava stared into his eyes for a long moment, then closed hers; a single tear ran down her cheek. ”Ava,” he whispered, and licked the tear from her skin. ”Be still,” he said again, and began to kiss her.

The rain continued relentlessly but faded into distant noise, because suddenly, Jared was aware of nothing but Ava. His hands caressed her body, arousing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, inflaming her skin, wiping the dampness from beneath her eyes, then slipping between her legs. When she feebly tried to resist him, he insisted with his hands and his mouth.

He stroked and caressed her, made her slick with desire, then retreated to more untouched skin, working to arouse her as much as he worked to rid himself of his feelings.

Ava's breath was soon ragged, her hands on him. When he pressed her onto her back and came over her, parting her legs, his c.o.c.k pressed into her belly. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her lips, then continued moving down her body, kissing the hollow of her throat, the valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the cloth of her nightgown bunched at her belly, and down farther, his hands moving to her hips. Ava's knees came up and apart, and as he sank between her thighs, she gave a little moan of pleasure. He plunged his tongue into her, feathering her with little strokes, circling around, nipping and teasing her until she began to moan, her hands grabbing at bed linens. When she began to pant, he closed his mouth around her and drew her into his mouth, and brought her to a mercilessly powerful climax.

Her cry was strangled, her hips lifting to him as she climaxed. He gripped her until she was spent, then made his way up her body. When he had reached her head, he sank his hand into her hair, his fingers reaching for the back of her head, and he deliriously sank his c.o.c.k into her with a long sigh of relief.

Her body was hot and wet, a slip of heaven. He moved recklessly inside her, his rhythm quickly gaining momentum as he began to feel his release nearing the surface. She writhed beneath him, seemingly as frantic for him to fill her as he was to do it. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, bit her shoulder, kissed her cheek, her mouth as his tempo increased. His heart pounding, he at last felt himself erupting within her, and buried his face in her hair, fighting to keep a cry of sheer pleasure from waking the house.

When he'd found his breath, he rolled to his side, taking her with him, holding her in his arms, feeling her breath hot and ragged on his shoulder.

He didn't know how much time pa.s.sed before she slept, but still he held her, occasionally brus.h.i.+ng thehair from her face. He held her that way until he slipped into sleep, too, feeling in that moment beforesleep a deep, soul-searing contentment that he'd never felt in his life.

s.p.a.c e Ava was still sleeping when he left her the next morning, in the middle of the bed, wound up in most of the bedcovers so that he was awakened by cold. He rose and dressed quietly. He took one last look at her before he quit the room-she looked so pretty lying there, her face soft and relaxed in sleep, her hair wild about her, her lips slightly open.

He walked down to the breakfast room and joined the other hunters, who were already in fine form, making bets with one another and eager to be out.

Jared helped himself to eggs and toast, and took a seat at the table while Lords Resnick and Hammilthorn argued about the skills of their respective dogs.