Seduced by His Touch(48)

To her great surprise, she found herself warmly received by  Society-although with the Byrons standing guard over her, most people  would have been hard-pressed to attempt a cut, especially with Jack  being her husband.

As for Jack himself, there were days when she saw a great deal of him, others when she saw almost nothing.

An excellent escort, he was always available to accompany her to  whatever entertainment she chose. At balls, they would frequently share a  dance before taking a walk around the room to converse with various  acquaintances and friends. Afterward, they parted as expected, since  even couples who'd supposedly married for love were frowned upon if they  spent too much time "in each other's pockets," as the saying went.

As for her own obligation to play hostess and entertain at home, she was  relieved when Jack made no such demands on her time. And given her  newness to Society, as well as her status as a newlywed, no one seemed  to mind the lapse. Next year, they all agreed, would be soon enough for  such polite duties-except there would be no next year, she knew, only  the remains of the one presently at hand.

With June now upon them and the Season entering its final weeks, she  realized she'd grown almost used to the constant rush. And as she often  told herself, the frantic pace kept her mind off her troubles and her  body weary enough for sleep.                       
       
           


///
       

Awake and attired in a light silk dressing gown, she smothered a yawn as  she took a seat at the small table in her sitting room. Breakfast was  spread there courtesy of her very efficient lady's maid.

Reaching first for her tea, she took a sip, pleased to find the brew hot  and strong, exactly the way she liked it. Across on the fireplace  mantel, the flower-covered porcelain Meissen clock pinged out the hour  in dulcet, high-pitched strokes.

Noon. Late even for her.

But then she had good reason to have overslept, considering the fact  that it had been nearly three in the morning when she'd taken to her  bed. And not much past five when Jack had joined her beneath the sheets  to take her in another way entirely.

Her skin warmed at the memory, remembered pleasure curling like an  opiate through her veins. And he was rather like a drug, she decided,  addictive and dangerous. She only hoped that when the time came, she  would be capable of weaning herself away. Frowning over the thought, she  picked up a buttered toast square and bit in with savage purpose.

She was finishing off a small dish of fresh strawberries when a brief  knock sounded on the door that connected her bedchamber to Jack's.  Before she could answer, the door opened and he walked inside.

Striding across, he dropped into the chair opposite and poured himself  some tea. Her maid always provided an extra cup for just such an  occurrence, even if he'd never before put one of them to use. But there  was a first time for everything, she supposed. "Please, help yourself,"  she invited with a tinge of sarcasm.

His lips curved as he reached for a slice of toast. "I wasn't sure if  I'd find you awake. I thought perhaps you might sleep longer."

"No. I have things to do today. Can't lie abed indefinitely."

His eyes twinkled, as though he were thinking about disagreeing with the  remark, but he let it pass. Silently, he ate his toast. Finished, he  reached across and liberated the remaining rasher of bacon from her  plate, devouring the fried meat in a few quick bites.

"Would you like me to ring and have another breakfast brought up?" she  asked, curious to find him demolishing what was left of hers.

He shook his head. "This will do." Using his napkin to wipe his hands  free of crumbs and bacon grease, he poured more tea, then relaxed back  in his chair. "So," he asked at length, "what's on your schedule for  today?"

Her brows arched. "Afternoon calls, I believe. Followed by the park, then the Putnams' dinner party tonight."

"That's right. I'd forgotten about the Putnams. Pleasant people, though a  tad on the stuffy side." He paused, tapping a finger against his lips.  "What would you think about sending our regrets and doing something else  entirely?"

Her brows arched even higher. "I'd think you'd put something stronger than tea in that cup, that's what."

He chuckled. "The day is beautiful, excellent for a drive to Richmond."

She stared. "For whom?"

"For us."

"You want me to accompany you to Richmond? Why?"

"Must there be a reason?"

"Yes, I rather think there must."

Spinning his teacup in a circle against its saucer, he took a long  moment before responding. "I just thought it might be nice to lay down  the gauntlets for a day. Our truce is rather untruce-like most of the  time. I think both of us could use a brief armistice."

"You make it sound as if we're at war," she defended.

His piercing gaze met hers. "Are we not? What do you say, Grace?"

What she should say was a firm and unequivocal no. Instead she found  herself longing to throw off the yoke of tension between them, even if  it was only for a day. Perhaps that's how he felt too.

"I ought to refuse. But yes, all right."

He grinned, his good humor and charm pouring over her like a warm breeze.

I know I'm going to regret this, she thought.

Shooing him out of the room, she rang for her maid.





Jack honestly didn't know why he'd dreamed up this excursion, but gazing  over at Grace now, where she sat beside him in the phaeton, he was glad  he had.

She looked lovely, dressed in a lilac-and-white-striped gown, a  chipstraw bonnet perched at a saucy angle on her upswept, fiery locks.  She'd always been pretty, but over the last few months, she'd blossomed  into a truly irresistible beauty.

Perhaps the credit should be given to her stylish new wardrobe, since,  with the assistance of his mother and sisters, she never appeared in  less than the latest fashions. There were many days, in fact, that she  could have stepped off the pages of La Belle Assemble itself.                       
       
           


///
       

But he also knew that her increased loveliness stemmed from a newfound  source of inner confidence-her outer beauty growing in tandem with an  ever-deepening ability to hold her own in Society. No longer did she try  to conceal her height as she used to; the days of sitting in the back  of the room were gone for good. Now, when she met people, she did so  with aplomb, her shoulders square, her chin held high.

Of course, there was also her sensuality-and mayhap therein lay the true  wellspring of her beauty. She'd come a long way from the shy young  woman who'd once trembled at the thought of a stolen kiss.

Now when he came to her bed, she met him with bold assurance, accepting  his caresses and returning them with inventive ones of her own. She'd  taken him by surprise the first time she'd initiated their  lovemaking-pleasing him more than he could imagine. Since then … well, she  never left him any cause for complaint.

Without his quite knowing how or when, Grace had become a mature, sensual, alluring woman-one who would surely tempt any man.

He frowned at the thought, his hands tightening slightly against the reins as the horses gamboled along the turnpike.

For weeks, he'd been waiting to tire of her. Every day he awakened  expecting to find some lessening of his interest, to discover the seeds  of disillusionment and ennui growing inside him. But then night would  arrive and he'd want her all over again. If anything, he desired her  more now than when he'd first taken her-although frankly he didn't know  how that was physically possible. And the emotional distance between  them was no deterrent. In some ways, it merely encouraged his needs,  leaving him craving more than her body but her heart as well.

He'd possessed it once under false pretenses. Was it wrong of him to  want it back? Perhaps that was the reason he'd suggested today's outing,  so he could see how she felt when they weren't in company, or in bed.

Glancing over again, he saw her lift her face to the sun, a slow smile  moving over her cherry red lips. His heart took an extra beat, a swell  of longing pumping in his chest. Shunting the sensation away, he forced  his gaze ahead.

"This is nice," she said.

He smiled and darted another glance her way. "As I said, perfect  weather." A light wind teased the ribbons tied under her chin, making  him want to give them a tug and set the little hat free. "Shall we go  faster?"

"Faster than this? Is that wise?"

A grin creased his face. "Of course not, which is exactly the reason we should."

With a smart flick of the reins, he urged the team into a run.

Crying out in surprise, she grabbed the side of the phaeton. And then  she laughed. High and light and adorably girlish. When their gazes met,  he saw that her eyes had turned a vibrant, bluish-grey-a shade he  realized he hadn't seen in ages.