“Yes,” Hart ground out, crossing his arms across his chest and giving all three of his friends a condemning glare.
“Then I also understand you’re a bloody fool,” Harlborough added.
Hart tossed back his drink in one gulp. Blast.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
That night, Hart came home at a decent hour. He’d imbibed several more drinks at the club but had quite appallingly sobered up by the end of the evening. He’d told his friends in no uncertain terms that he no longer wanted to speak about his new wife or his new marriage, but that hadn’t stopped the chaps from giving him digs throughout the evening.
They’d finally told him he needed to go home and make love to his beautiful new wife. While he hadn’t agreed to any such thing, hehadordered his coach to go straight home.
As soon as he entered his bedchamber, he dismissed his valet and ripped off his clothing. Was he in the wrong? No, by God, he wasn’t. Meghadschemed. Shehadplotted with her friends. Sarah admitted it. Meg was no better than Annabelle. Bloody hell. He may havegivenMeg the damn idea.
On the other hand, she insisted she hadn’t been trying to trap him and he’d refused to listen. He’d known he was being an ass, but she deserved his anger. Didn’t she? Damn. None of it made sense any longer. Meg probably wouldn’t be coming back in here, not after he’d refused her so many times.
Would he refuse her again? Should he refuse her again? He didn’t know anymore. If she didn’t come, would he go to her, demand his husbandly rights? No. He’d feel like an even bigger arse. Bloody hell! What if his blasted friends were right?
On the other hand, what if his father was right? His father had told him how his own mother had schemed to wring an offer of marriage from the earl. His father had fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love with her, but she’d been unfaithful to him throughout their marriage. Hart had heard about it often enough.
“Never give a woman your heart,” the earl had repeated to his son on countless occasions. “She’ll crush it in her palm.”
Hadn’t Hart watched his father give his mother jewels, gowns, expensive coaches, all to be rebuffed and ignored? His father had stayed home night after night while his mother went out to pursue her friends and her amusements. The details were kept hidden from Sarah, but Hart knew.
Hart had sat in his father’s study with him many a night, knowing his mother had never come home from the ball she’d attended. For years, he’d listened as his father poured out his heart and tried to find solace at the bottom of a brandy glass. Finally, his father had stopped trying and had gone out to find his own amusements.
His parents treated each other like strangers. Hart refused to have a marriage like that. If he kept the upperhand with Meg, he wouldn’t suffer like his father. He would never have his heart crushed.
Hart almost didn’t hear the tentative knock. He sat in silence. She didn’t open the door. She was waiting for his approval. “Come in,” he intoned.
When she entered the room he was standing near the bed wearing only his breeches, just as he had been the other night.
She wore her diaphanous blue dressing gown again. If he didn’t mistake his guess, this time she was… completely nude underneath. He couldn’t swallow. His mouth was so dry it hurt.
“Not such a late night tonight?” she asked in a voice as smooth as glass.
“No,” he mumbled like an idiot.
“Dare I hope it’s because you wanted to come home to me?”
He wanted to say no, prompted himself to, but he couldn’t make the word move past the lump in his throat, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her glorious body outlined by the firelight.
She untied her dressing gown quickly, pushed the material off her shoulders, and let it drop. She stood naked in front of him. Hart’s eyes flared and he sucked in his breath. Of all things, he hadn’t expected this. His body instantly reacted, hardening.
“Damn it, Meg. What do you think you’re doing?” He tried to look away but couldn’t force himself to.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to seduce you.”
“Why?” His breathing was ragged.
Meg took a deep breath. “This is it, Hart. This is the last chance. I offer myself to you willingly tonight. Ifyou refuse me again, I’ll leave and not return. I refuse to beg you.”
Hart fought an internal war. Fought it and lost it. When he raised his eyes to hers, he knew that he’d been bested. “You don’t have to beg.”
He took two long strides and she was in his arms. His bare arms swept around her body, pulling her close, crushing her naked breasts against his bare chest. She moved up on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue pushing against her lips until she opened for him. He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her neck. His lips began to move down the slim column of her throat. He nipped at her collarbone. “God, Meg, I—”
“No,” she whispered. “No more talking. Only this.”
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her through the doorway to her bed, where he laid her down gently. “Youarebeautiful.” He stood up and drank in her body with his eyes while he divested himself of his breeches.
