“Were you a frequent visitor in your childhood?” She cocked her head to one side, enjoying his undivided attention.
“No, only once a year or so until I reached the age of seventeen. That’s when my mother moved back.” Diantha nodded at the explanation.
“I’ve always thought the estate remarkable, although my uncle nearly ran it into the ground.” He lowered his voice tactfully. “It could be much more profitable with proper management. I, at least, am thankful that he married into a family possessing some business acumen.”
Diantha smiled her appreciation. It made a pleasant change to hear her family complimented for its fortune instead of denigrated. Still, this conversation had veered into dangerous waters.
As if realizing the same thing, her companion turned his attention to the music. “Do you play, Cousin Diantha?”
“Hardly, Cousin Barclay.” She held up her left hand, fingers outstretched. “As you can see, my reach does not even cover an octave and a half. My music master gave up trying to teach me to play when I was fourteen. He convinced my mother that I should be considered equally accomplished if I was taught to sing instead.”
With a teasing glint in his green eyes, he held his hand up, palm facing hers. Nearly as large as Kieran’s, elegantly shaped with long fingers, his hand could have engulfed hers easily.
“I do play, although indifferently. We should try a duet for voice and piano sometime.”
“Admiring my wife’s wedding ring?” Somehow her tall husband had crossed the room without her notice and stood right behind her. He did not look angry, but a sharp glance at their nearly touching hands caused hers to drop to her side.
Barclay raised an eyebrow but spoke mildly. “How nice of you to join us, Cousin. While her ring is quite handsome, I find many other admirable qualitiesin my new relative.” Unnoticed by either man at that moment, Diantha saw the speculative flash in his eyes before he covered it up with urbane teasing.
“I was telling her I should be delighted to accompany her any time she wishes. On the piano, of course.”
“Ah, is that it?” Her husband’s face looked friendly enough, except for a faint chill in his eyes.
“Surely you don’t think I’d behave badly with your wife, cuz!” Barclay chuckled.
“Ah, but I’ve seen you charm so many females with that particular look on your face.”
Kieran smiled down at her. “I didn’t know you could sing. Would you and my cousin favor us with a song?”
After a brief search, Barclay handed her a piece by Mssrs. Gilbert and German Reed. She choked back a laugh at the title, and launched into “With Rage Infuriate I Burn!” with gusto.
As her parents had spared no expense in her vocal training, she delivered a creditable performance of the witty lyrics. Barclay’s description of his skill on the piano matched his uninspired playing, but she thanked him anyway. He had certainly demonstrated more kindness than his mother.
By the song’s end, Kieran’s good humor returned, although Iona regarded her with suspicion. As well she might, Diantha thought to herself. She refused to allow the woman to set her aside in her own house.
Pleading a long day of travel, she escaped from the drawing room shortly afterward. Another footman conducted her to her chamber door, where she entered and gladly submitted to Florette’sministrations. By the time the maid blew out all but one candle and slipped out the door, she drowsed against the pillows, warm under an eiderdown quilt.
Wriggling her toes luxuriously, she sighed contentedly, staring up at the canopy. Iona Upton or not, it felt heavenly to stretch out on a comfortable bed without her corset.
She closed her eyes and frowned. By rights, running Duncarie should now be her responsibility, but Florette had pointed out the woman’s precarious position.
The door opened again. Doubtless the Frenchwoman had forgotten something. Wanting to consider possible courses of action to claim her rightful place here, she did not open her eyes or speak. Cloth rustled nearby; the maid must have remembered something she wanted to clean.
Without warning, the sheets and coverlet shifted. Her eyes popped open as the mattress sagged under the heavy weight of a body sliding into bed next to her. Two muscular arms wrapped around her and warm lips nuzzled her nape, causing her to shiver and gasp involuntarily.
“Kieran, I’m tired.” She tried to scoot out of his arms only to have them tighten around her.
His bold hands came up to cup her breasts through her cambric nightgown, his thumbs circling their peaks to stiffness. “I came to apologize for scolding you before dinner. That was thoughtless on your first night here.”
She became fully alert as his breath against her skin sent shivers down her spine. “Is that what this is called?”
His body shook with suppressed laughter even ashis fingers joined his thumbs, rolling her nipples until they ached. In between planting kisses over the back of her neck and shoulders, he spoke again. “I noticed your overtures to my aunt at dinner. She was at her worst this evening for some reason.”
And this afternoon. She didn’t voice the thought aloud, for he moved closer to her at that moment, and she realized with a shock that he was naked. All thoughts of Aunt Iona flew out of her head as the head of his heated shaft rubbed her backside through her nightgown.
A dark pulse stirred between her thighs as one hand left her breast to slide down her waist to her hip. She tried to turn onto her back, to open toward him. Gently, he squeezed her hip, stopping her.
She tilted her head back, trying to see him. Only his shoulder and the side of his face filled her vision. “You don’t want me to—”
