While her father had accepted her explanation without reservation then, as she had never lied to him before, he approached her now with an expression of distress. “Is something amiss with Lord Markel?”
“Not that I am aware, Papa,” she returned cautiously. “But perhaps I could go to the inn later this afternoon and ask Mrs. Decker if she knows why he might be acting differently.”
Her father smiled. “You are a treasure of a daughter, my dear, to care so much for others. I’m sure the viscount will be glad for your visit.”
Dove forced a smile, because she was quite sure if her father knew the true reason she intended to seek out the viscount, he wouldn’t be nearly as assured.
Dove slipped out of the church a short time later and held her bonnet close to her head. The wind had gotten up since that morning and the clouds overhead threatened more winter weather. She shivered in her pelisse, and hastily made her way to the Queen’s Head.
She walked inside and didn’t see the viscount among the few patrons who were sitting around the taproom. When she spied Mable, she walked over to the bar.
“Dove!” Mrs. Decker offered her a warm, welcoming smile. “What brings you in today?”
She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Papa wanted me to check on the viscount to see if all was well. He was a bit reticent at the play today.”
Mable hesitated, and then she inclined her head. “I was just about to take a tea tray to him, but I suppose you can take it in my stead.”
Nerves caught at Dove’s stomach, but she pushed them aside and accepted the tray that Mable handed her.
Relief flowed through Dove, and although she knew she couldn’t tarry long, lest Mable should come check on her whereabouts, perhaps she would have enough time to accomplish what she intended.
However, providence was on her side, although she was quite sure it wasn’t divine, as several patrons walked through the front door of the inn. She overhead the coachman say that the mail had run into a problem on the main road, but they were able to limp into the village for repairs.
Dove smiled to herself, for this meant that Mable would be occupied longer than usual.
She made her way upstairs.
Chapter Eleven
A soft knock at the door had Cain calling over his shoulder to admit the visitor, and then he continued working on the unfortunate knot he’d made of his cravat. He’d been so eager to rip it off the moment he returned, feeling as it was a band around his throat, choking off all of his air, that now he regretted his actions.
The door opened behind him and he heard the tea tray he’d been expecting from Mrs. Decker being placed carefully on a table. He also heard the door close, so he imagined the innkeeper had left, but when he heard gentle footsteps walking up behind him, he spun around. Curiosity quickly turned to surprise when he saw Dove standing just a few feet from him.
He couldn’t seem to move as she closed the distance and reached for the pitiful strip of cloth he’d been fighting. “Allow me,” she said huskily, and Cain’s cock instantly stirred to life, although his brain admonished his member to cease and desist.
She easily removed the knot of his cravat and slowly slid it from around his neck to discard it to the side. Her eyes never left his as she reached for the buttons of his waistcoat. His jacket had already been removed earlier. “Do you need help with this too?”
Cain said nothing. He did nothing. He was powerless to do anything more than watch as she slowly began to strip the clothes off his body. In light of all of the experienced women he’d lain with over the years, nothing had ever fired his blood like this village girl, whose fingers he yearned to have all over his body.
As she pushed the waistcoat off of his shoulders, she reached for the top closure of his shirt and lifted an inquiring brow. Again, Cain remained motionless, so she began to slide it from beneath the waistband of his trousers, and with a deep inhale, as if she was eager to see what lay beyond the cambric, she urged it up past his ribcage. Cain obediently lifted his arms and she slid it the rest of the way, until it became a forgotten pool of white at their feet.
He exhaled sharply at the first touch of her pale, slender hands on his burning skin. His head was spinning and it wasn’t just because he hadn’t lain with a woman since he’d learned of James’ death, but because Dove was driving him crazy with her gentle exploration. He wasn’t sure how long she intended to carry out this silent seduction, but it would have to stop soon, or he wouldn’t be able to say no.
Her palms were flat against his chest, and she ran them straight across his pectorals and he wondered if she liked the scattering of hair or if she might prefer a smooth chest. But the way her eyes flared in approval, he decided it was the latter.
Not until she continued further, past his abdominal muscles, following the trail that disappeared beneath the band of his trousers did he reach out his hands and capture her wrists. He did not hold her tight enough to hurt, just enough to cause her to reconsider her actions.
“What are you doing here, Dove?”
She looked up at him, those blue eyes flashing with desire. “I thought you might be able to discern that, my lord.”
He closed his eyes and sent up a prayer for control. If there was one thing he wished for God to grant him, it was this. “You need to go home.” He released her wrists and turned to walk over to the washstand. He considered dumping the entire pitcher of water over his head to cool off.
“Do you hate me so very much?”
He snorted and grasped the wood on the washstand until his knuckles turned white. “It seems to me it’s the other way around, if your words from last night were any indication.”
She sighed heavily. “I wanted to tell you I was sorry today, but you didn’t give me a chance—”
