Page 41 of Seducing the Marquess (Lords and Ladies in Love 1)

Taking the glass from her hand, he placed it on the floor in front of them, then slid his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders, cupping her cheeks. His thumbs lazily caressed her skin as he slowly, oh so slowly, tilted her head back, then bent his head and took her lips in a gentle, tantalizing kiss.

Her world exploded. Yes. This was what she’d wanted all day. She wrapped her arms firmly around his waist, moving her body closer so her breasts pressed against his hard chest. Devon fisted her hair in his hand and tugged her head back, kissing her neck, her jaw, the sensitive skin behind her ear. Her heart pounded as he placed his hands under her arms and lifted her onto his lap. The top of his banyan fell open, and she ducked her head to run her cheek over the dark curls on his chest.

She inhaled deeply of the scent of bay rum, brandy, and Devon. Empowered by his movements, she slid her hands under the banyan, placing her palms on his shoulders. Warm, hard flesh. His fingers played with the hem of her nightgown, slowly easing it up her leg.

The sound of their breathing filled the air. The chill she’d felt before had long since vanished. Tentatively, she eased her tongue out and licked his flat dark nipple.

He sucked in air between his teeth, and she moved her bottom against him, pressing in until she felt the evidence of his desire.

“Take me to bed, Devon.” The words were out before she thought them.

As slowly as he’d descended, he now raised his head, searching her face, confusion and something else she could not identify in his eyes. He eased back, setting his hands on her shoulders. Not sure why, she suddenly felt embarrassed, as if she’d done something wrong. Her hands dropped from around his waist to her lap.

“I…” He set her on her feet and stood. He tried to speak, but no words came out as he ran his fingers through his hair. Suddenly, he turned on his heel, strode to the door, and wrenched it open. “Good night.”

The click of the door was like a wound to her heart.

What had just happened?

What had happened was he still did not want her, not the way she wanted him. His desire was quite visible to her, but he still held that a wife was not to be ravished. She was not to enjoy her husband’s attentions. She was far too sensitive and delicate for such. That privilege belonged to a mistress, even though she had shown him otherwise.

Stubborn man.

Dejected and weary, she rose from the settee and pulled the book out from under her mattress. She sat on the floor near the fireplace, a place no proper lady would ever sit, listlessly flipping through the pages by firelight. Slamming the book shut, she gripped the book and banged it on the floor in vexation. She would not give up. Unless she convinced her husband he could have all the passion he wanted right here in his own home, she would have no chance of winning his love.

A man in love with his wife did not take up with mistresses.

This was war. She might have lost a battle, but she fully intended to be the victor in the end.

…

Devon tightened the belt on his banyan and wandered over to the window to gaze out at the darkness. Much like he felt. Dark. Confused. Frustrated.

How he had wanted to throw Eugenia down on the bed and shower her with all the delights of true carnal knowledge between a man and a woman. Even if he could get beyond the fact that she was his wife, and not some light-skirt, the thought of her lying in the arms of another man had stopped him cold.

His Eugenia!

Despite his restlessness, he had no desire to traipse downstairs to fetch another bottle of brandy to replace the one he’d left in her room. A slight thump coming from the other side of the door caught his attention. Most likely he’d left her as frustrated as he felt right now. But proper wives weren’t supposed to be frustrated, because they were not susceptible to passion.

Things had certainly started out that way. Eugenia had come to him a virgin, which was precisely what he’d expected. She had accepted his visits to her bed with the same amount of ladylike decorum he’d also anticipated. She’d been perfect in every other way, as well. A gracious hostess, a competent manager of all things household, an intelligent conversationalist, and a woman who expected, and received, a great deal of respect from the staff, friends, and members of the ton.

It wasn’t until the day he’d caught her racing down Bond Street and practically running into him that he’d begun to notice a change. Since she’d been an innocent when they’d married, the only conclusion he could draw from the change in her demeanor and dress was that she had taken a lover who was instructing her in the things only he, as her husband, should be teaching.

Except he had never instructed her in any way because he’d been raised to believe proper ladies were not interested in the entire process, and were more than happy to leave that part of a man’s life to courtesans. Marriage was a business arrangement for the sole purpose of producing heirs, making new, and solidifying old, connections. The conversations he’d had at his clubs had only reinforced that belief. True, there were some gentlemen who had given up their mistresses when they’d married, but they were few, and usually thought of as besotted fools.

Which was precisely why he’d kept up the appearance of having a mistress when he’d actually been unable to touch another woman once he’d said his vows.

What a mess this had turned into.

…

The next afternoon Devon arrived home after meeting with members of Parliament. Once again, he had purposely taken breakfast before he knew Eugenia would arise. That was another change. She’d always had a tray in her room in the mornings and had never emerged from her room until early afternoon. Now she appeared at the breakfast table every morning.

Feeling a bit guilty at abandoning her, he had paused on his way out to convey to Bellows that he would be away from the house for most of the day and to please tell her ladyship he would see her at dinner. Even that left him feeling guilty. He should have penned her a note, at least.

They were to attend the Pembroke ball that evening, and he’d decided to forego his usual trip to the card room after his dance with Eugenia. He would remain in the ballroom and take note of who approached her, and her reactions. Did he feel like a bloody, jealous fool?

Absolutely.