Part 19 (1/2)
Edward took in her wrinkled dress. ”Are you certain you don't want to change? If not the dress I brought for you, perhaps one of your own?”
”Why? Are we entertaining the king? Oh, but no. I remember. He thinks you're in deep mourning. Who did you tell him died?”
Edward examined his spotless white cuff. ”Your mother.”
Caroline struggled with her twitching hands. How they wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h up the hairbrush and heave it against the wall. ”My mother? You never even met my mother! For that matter, neither did I!”
”I'm sorry, Caro. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
”Edward, I'm beginning to think you have lost your mind completely. This is no way to go about winning me. Killing off my poor dead mother, buying me a dress fit for the cheapest of wh.o.r.es, locking me up for hours on end, not to mention the whole kidnapping scenario. What has happened to your good sense?” She put her hands on her hips, feeling very much like his mother.
He gave her a rueful smile. ”You've driven it from me.”
”I? I've done nothing.”
”You don't have to. You just are.”
She supposed that was a compliment. Edward was as inexplicably drawn to her as she was to him. To discover that their separation had pained him enough to go insane should have pleased her, but it didn't. She wanted the rational Edward back, who recognized her for the hoyden she was: the woman who talked too much at breakfast; who made love too loudly; who broke things and climbed out windows; who ran away.
”Let's walk in the garden before dinner. I'll get a wrap.” Some fresh air would do her good. The sun had dropped low in the sky, but there was still plenty of daylight left to examine the intricate knot garden. Earlier from her window she had glimpsed late roses, rust-red and yellow chrysanthemums, cosmos, anemones and alstromeria.
But when she and Edward stepped onto the path, Caroline saw nothing but tenting rolls of burlap and heaps of straw covering the plants and shrubs. Bradlaw's gardeners had been busy while she napped, protecting the plants from the uncertain nighttime temperature. It had been unusually cold for September, the threat of a nighttime frost frightening gardeners throughout the Home Counties.
”Drat! I had so wanted to see the flowers.”
”I invited you out here this afternoon. I understand the gardeners do this every evening and remove it all in the morning. How tedious for them when everything will die away soon. We'll come outside tomorrow.”
Edward cut an odd figure in his formal evening clothes amidst the humble burlap and straw. The only thing odder would have been for her to be wearing the ghastly red dress. That was one article of clothing that would not be going back to London with her.
She supposed she'd have to leave all her belongings behind when she escaped. Wondering if Ben had made any progress finding her reticule, she sat on a bench beneath a canopy of bittersweet vines. After a moment, Edward removed a handkerchief from his pocket, dusted off the bench and joined her.
”You needn't dress up on my account, Edward. I don't care what you wear.”
”I planned a candlelit dinner with lots of romantic tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs.” He sounded as dispirited as the brown garden surrounding them. Caroline wrapped her paisley shawl tighter, watching the sunlight fade on the windows of Bradlaw House. As far as romantic places went, Bradlaw House and its famous garden had been an excellent choice. Too bad her heart had hardened.
”We're not far from Christie Park,” she said, changing the subject. ”Do you plan on visiting while you keep me prisoner?”
”No. I wanted this week to be for us. Only us. No distractions.”
”That sounds awfully dull.”
”It needn't be. Caro, I know you're angry.” He touched his bruise, then covered up his action by rubbing his jaw. She saw he was freshly shaven, in antic.i.p.ation of how he thought he'd spend his night.
Was she too angry with him to let him take her to bed? She thought not. In a few days she'd be shriveling up, not a spinster, no longer a wife. The prospect filled her with little satisfaction.
”I told you yesterday I wanted us to make a fresh start. After today's debacle, do you think we can forget it and make that fresh start tomorrow instead? I'm putty in your hands, Caro. I'll stand for anything you say. Or throw. Please tell me there's still a chance for us.”
”This isn't one of my books, Edward.” She picked a few orange berries from the vine and tossed them into a flower bed, where they pinged off the burlap and bounced back at her feet.
”Marburn tells me you're done.”
”For the time being. I need a break. It's exhausting imperiling my heroines. It's exhausting being imperiled.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while as the sun slipped behind the trees and the air chilled. Edward glanced at his timepiece. ”Mrs. Hazlett must be nearly ready for us. Will you join me in a drink first?”
”No, I want to keep a clear head. You could take advantage of me.”
His cloudy green eyes met hers. ”I had hopes to.”
Caroline stood up. Who knew? He might get lucky.
The candlelight flattered her, even in her plain wrinkled blue dress. Edward was secretly relieved she'd rejected the strumpet gown. That's what came of entrusting one's valet to go shopping for women's clothes. Cameron must keep company with very fast females on his off hours to have picked such unsuitable attire, or else he simply hadn't absorbed the lessons of Jane Street during the short time he was in residence. None of Caroline's neighbors would have worn something so shockingly vulgar and they were the epitome of strumpets. Edward had been too busy the past weeks tying up loose ends so he could dedicate a week to Caroline to visit a modiste himself. Seven days now seemed both too short and too long.
He was certain he could not keep her here, even if he locked her in. Judging from the jewelry stashed in her pocket earlier, she meant to escape at the first opportunity. Perhaps he'd let her.
He'd been a proper gentleman all his life, save for the few hours yesterday on the road. While he'd allowed himself to feel a frisson of power over a helpless female, he was over that. He couldn't hold his wife against her will. Whatever he'd hoped to accomplish, it was clear his mission was a failure.
Except he still got to watch Caro across the table. See her break a roll apart. Take a tiny sip of wine. Dab white linen against her luscious mouth. His appet.i.te for food had deserted him, but his hunger for Caro had not. He was a fool. Once again.
She covered a yawn. He pushed back from the table. ”I'll escort you upstairs. You must be tired.”
”I am, but I don't know why. I slept the day away. Most of the morning, too.” She folded the napkin into a neat square and stood up.
Edward offered an arm. ”Being imperiled is exhausting, as you said. I didn't mean to cause you harm or worry, Caro.”
”To the end of my days, I'll never understand what you were thinking.”
”Let's call it a temporary lapse of Christie judgment. I've reverted to my old boring self.”
Caroline looked as if she wanted to say something, then focused on the stairs. Thank heavens there weren't so many to climb. They were in front of her bedroom door before he knew it.
”Goodnight, Caro.” He contemplated a kiss, but thought on the whole he should not subject himself to such torture. So he was surprised when she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
Heaven. Honey. Every sweet lick drove him to despair. He had missed his chance to keep her, if not yesterday, five years ago when his pride had dictated a dismal future. His actions since had done nothing but cement Caro's determination to cut all contact. If it was her way of saying good-bye, he needed to remember each brush of her fingertips, each thrust of her tongue, each flutter of his heart.
She fell back against the door and Edward fell with her, her plush softness cus.h.i.+oning his l.u.s.t. Trapped between the wood and his own rigid manhood, she made no effort to repel him; rather she held his shoulders firmly, drawing him down in her kiss. He opened his eyes to see hers closed, the fan of black lashes flickering on her cheeks. By rights they should be tipped with bronze, but Caro was nothing if not unique, even to her eyelashes. She appeared to be concentrating as hard as he was, her mouth a petal unfurling with such sweetness it broke him.
What started as the merest brush of lips changed to devouring possession. Who possessed whom Edward wasn't sure, for they took turns slanting their lips over the other, their tongues tasting and tangling, their hands busy exploring. The light from the sconces wavered. Anyone could come upon them in the hall to see Caro struggle blindly with his neckcloth, to see his hands covering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s under the blue cloth, to see her leg raise to wrap him closer. In minutes he could take her up against the door like a common harlot, but Caro was uncommon. She deserved better for their last night together.
He wondered if she'd take a lover. He knew he wouldn't.
He groaned, but Caro interpreted it as abandon and rubbed herself against him like a hungry kitten. He fisted her skirts, sliding under to her smooth, cool thigh. He couldn't see it except in his mind's eye-the dimpled white expanse of flesh above her stocking, so soft, so vulnerable. He would kiss her there later if he could, mark her as his, at least for tonight. She s.h.i.+vered as he swept up to quickly find her heat, two fingers impaling themselves inside her slick, tight pa.s.sage. His thumb circled the apex of her womanhood, already stiff and swollen for him. Only for him, at least for tonight.
Tonight was all they had. Tomorrow he'd send her away as she wished. He pressed into her in desperation. She was the one groaning, drenching his hand with her desire, angling her hips to sink him deeper in her folds, to force him to rub harder, to kiss her as though his very existence depended upon it. He fought for breath and wits as her hand freed his c.o.c.k, curled about him and stroked him upward. He needed much more than her hand, much more than tonight. With a savage mental curse he lifted her, fitting her onto him, her legs locking around his, and held her up against the door.
He was seconds away from spilling into her. In the hallway.
Edward dragged himself from her mouth. ”Caro, hang on. I've got to get you inside.”
”You are inside,” she whispered. ”And it feels so good. Please, please don't stop.”