Seduced by His Touch(4)

Silently, he accepted the case, untying the strings that held the sides  closed. One by one, he studied the illustrations inside, careful as he  turned the large paper sheets with their fine watercolor renderings of  birds. "These are your best yet," he pronounced. "Stunning, Grace.  Absolutely stunning."

Her cheeks warmed with pleasure. "The chimney swallow turned out best, I  think. I would like to have added a bit more green to the mallard, but I  suppose he'll do."

Terrence smiled. "He'll more than do. It was my lucky day when we met at  that ornithology lecture four summers ago. If not for that fateful  introduction, I would likely never have thought of producing a series of  illustrated nature books. I have no doubt this new one is going to make  us a nice little profit."

Pin money, Grace thought. At least that's what Papa liked to call it,  since her earnings never amounted to much more than her quarterly  allowance. Nonetheless, the money she received from the publication of  her "little watercolors" provided a small reserve for her use. More  importantly, the money was hers. All hers. Derived by means of her own  skills and efforts.

"We're receiving advanced orders already," Terrence confided as he  carefully straightened the group of drawings inside the folio, then  retied the strings. "Lord Ast-bury is taking two dozen this time. Told  me he plans to give them out as gifts to his hunting friends."

Her lips parted as the implication sank in. "Why, that's dreadful. This  book is supposed to be an ornithological reference guide."

"Apparently he and his toff friends don't care about such niceties. They  like to study the birds, then go out and shoot them. Of course, what is  it you said your cook is serving for dinner tonight? Roast chicken, I  believe."

She glared at him for a moment, then released a laugh. "Point taken. Are you certain you won't stay to enjoy the carnage?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "No, but it is tempting. Look now, here is  Martha with our tea." Setting the folio aside, he stood and helped the  housekeeper with the heavy tray.                       
       
           


///
       

A crumpet and a slice of meat pie later, Terrence wiped his mouth on his  napkin, then laid his plate aside. "So will I see you next Tuesday at  the theater? They're doing Midsummer, I think."

Grace returned her teacup to its saucer. "Oh, did I not tell you? I am  to go to my aunt Jane's in Bath for a few weeks. Apparently she wrote to  Papa asking if I could stay with her. She wants to take the waters and  hates the idea of being in the city alone, despite her wide circle of  friends. I didn't see any way I could refuse."

"No, nor should you," he agreed, a slight frown on his brows.

"Not to worry," she assured him. "I shall take everything I need to  begin work on the flower illustrations. You needn't have any concern  that I shall be late in completing the new renderings."

"I know you won't. If there is anyone upon whom I can count, it is you. I will only miss you, that's all."

"Ah." She knew she should not encourage him. Still, he was her friend. "And I you," she said with sincerity. "And I you."





Late the following evening, Jack claimed his release, his body  shuddering, as he lay locked inside his mistress's arms. She glided her  hands over him, her satisfaction plain. He'd taken care to make sure she  peaked first, her cries of satisfaction loud enough to awaken the  entire household. Luckily her servants were far too well-trained to  react, even if they had noticed.

Striving to recover his breath, he rolled onto his back in the wide,  satin-covered bed, unabashedly naked, the sheets and counterpane kicked  to the floor long ago.

"Heavens, darling, you do that so-o-o-o-o well," she cooed, reaching out  a delicate hand to smooth over his chest. "How soon do you imagine we  can do it again?"

He chuckled. "Give me a minute and we'll see."

She smiled, her fingers drifting downward with the obvious intent of  helping him along. For a moment, he allowed her to play, his interest  only mildly reawakened. Then with a gentle touch, he captured her hand  and folded it inside his own. "Philipa," he began, "about the country  party next week … "

"Yes?" she said, leaning up so that he had an unobstructed view of her  bare breasts and the tendrils of long, dark hair that cascaded over her  shoulders in a most enticing way. "Just think of all the fun we're going  to have. I can't wait to sneak into your room. Or would you rather  sneak into mine?"

"I am sorry, but there isn't going to be any sneaking at all. At least not with me."

"What do you mean? Of course it will be with you."

He shook his head. "Not this time. I am afraid something else has occurred. I won't be attending the party."

Her smile fell away. "But I don't understand. You always go into the country this time of year."

"This year is different."

Sitting up, he propped himself against the pillows. As he did, he  thought about the message he'd received this morning from Danvers  advising him about Grace's plans for the remainder of the summer and  fall. Considering all the implications, he set another few inches  between himself and Philipa.

"I am going to Bath," he stated on a solemn rumble.

A hearty laugh rolled from her bow-shaped, cherry-pink lips. "Bath! As  in the city? Oh, you're joshing me. Jack Byron in Bath, that will be the  day. I suppose next you're going to tell me you are journeying there  for the waters."

He lowered his gaze. "Actually, I'm going there for a bride."

Philipa's green eyes grew wide. "What! You're getting married?"

"So it would appear." Careful to make no mention of names or share the  specific details of the agreement he'd struck with Danvers, he confided  the basics of his situation to her.

"As you see," he concluded, "it's the only viable solution. I wish I  could have found an easier way to tell you this, but the unvarnished  truth seemed best."

Sliding from the bed, she retrieved her cream, flowered silk dressing  gown from the floor and slipped into it. Tying the fastening at her  waist, she turned back. "I can't say I am glad of the news, but I  understand. Obviously, it is the prudent choice. I just never envisioned  you entering into a marriage of convenience. This girl. What is she  like?"

"She's … " He broke off, finding himself oddly reluctant to talk about  Grace Danvers. She's interesting, he thought. And unusual, not at all  like the women he knew. She was … complex.

Realizing the direction of his thoughts, he brought himself back to the  topic at hand. "What does it matter what she's like?" he said in a cool  tone. "I am marrying her because it's what I must do. Anything else is  irrelevant."                       
       
           


///
       

"Poor creature," Philipa remarked, strolling around to his side of the  bed. "But knowing you, she'll probably fall instantly under your spell  and count herself lucky to be your wife, whatever the circumstances. And  I am sure, in your way, you'll be kind, even generous, to her."

Shifting her hip, she sat down next to him. "As for me, I know how to be  patient. After all, I waited ten long, dreadful years for the death of  that lecher my father forced me to wed. At least this girl will be  getting a virile man in his prime rather than some dried-up goat, old  enough to be her grandfather. Knowing what a fine lover you are, she is  fortunate indeed. No woman would object to giving up her maidenhead to  you. Would that I could have done so myself."

"Philipa-"

"Shh," she murmured, reaching up to feather her fingers through his  hair. "Not to worry. When a suitable amount of time has passed, and you  find yourself weary of playing husband, come back to me. You will always  be welcome in my bed."

Catching her hand, he brought her palm to his lips for a kiss. "You are too good, do you know that?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Good? There is nothing good about me.  Unless you are talking about my abilities in the boudoir. Now, at that, I  more than excel." Divesting herself of her dressing gown again, she  moved to sit astride his hips. "What do you say to one last tumble  before you go? Something to tide you over in the coming days, since Bath  is one of the deadliest dull spots on earth."

He smiled and slid his arms around her small, willowy body. As he did, a  memory of rich, red hair-Grace's hair-flashed in his mind for reasons  he couldn't even begin to fathom.