Seduced by Love Page 3

  ‘Ah.’ He watched her, his head on one side as though studying a problem, then reached for one of her stockings. ‘I know. Close your eyes.’ She felt the length of silk slip around her head, shutting out the light. Blake tied it loosely behind her head. ‘There. This is just a dream. Pretend whatever happens is simply your own imagination.’ He chuckled. ‘Now what have you been thinking to make you blush so?’

  Emily felt herself blush more.

  The chemise was pulled over her head. She heard his long indrawn breath. ‘You are lovely,’ he murmured. ‘So very lovely.’ In her dreams he kissed her and her whole body tingled. In her dreams his hands caressed her breasts and she ached for him. In her dreams… she had no idea what he would do next.

  Blake’s breath danced, warm and teasing like a summer breeze down the curve of her breast, then his tongue, just the tip, touched the very point of her nipple and she gasped. His hands cupped the fullness of her breasts and held them as he moved from one to the other licking, sucking, nibbling with his lips while she writhed.

  ‘Blake…’

  ‘Dream of me,’ he whispered and she felt the air stir as he moved upwards, took her lips, kissed her slowly, so slowly, while his right hand caressed her breasts and his left speared into her hair, holding her. Her hands were on his shoulders and his skin was smooth under her palms and the muscles moved intriguingly. She stroked for a moment before he slid down so that her fingers were in his hair as he kissed her stomach and the delicate skin twitched and shivered.

  Her body was no longer hers, it was reacting, quivering, aching with a building need that would have been frightening if it were not that she was safe, this was Blake, and a dream of Blake, and…

  ‘Oh,’ she whispered as his fingers sifted into the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.

  ‘Open for me, sweet,’ he murmured and she did, parting her thighs, beyond shame as his long fingers gentled into the soft crevices. ‘So soft,’ he murmured, ‘so wet for me.’ One finger slid inside, then another and Emily stiffened, her inner muscles instinctively closing around the intrusion, pressing up against his palm. ‘Oh yes, like that, sweet.’

  He played with her until she was almost sobbing with need, reaching for him, desperate for something more, for this delicious torture to end, for it to go on forever.

  ‘Is this real or a dream, Emily?’ Blake whispered in her ear.

  ‘Real,’ she gasped. ‘Oh, it is real and I want you. Blake, please, show me what to do.’

  Light dazzled her eyes as he pulled the soft blindfold away. ‘Look at me, trust me,’ he said as he moved over her, pressing into the cradle of her thighs. She had expected effort and a brutal thrust and pain, but her body opened for him, gently, easily and she smiled up at him as he filled her. Then it all became tight and, suddenly, difficult.

  ‘Now,’ he said and thrust. There was soreness and the shock of how deep he was within her and then simply joy at the joining, the intimacy, the trust.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she murmured. ‘Oh, Blake.’ And he moved, slowly, until she caught the rhythm and then faster and harder until she was caught up in a twisting skein of sensation that burst, suddenly, and she cried out as his mouth came down and his own shout mingled with hers. His body went rigid over her and she felt the flood of heat at her core.

  ‘Wake up, sweet.’ Someone was blowing gently in her ear. Emily grumbled and wriggled and found herself caught tightly in Blake’s embrace. ‘Good morning, Lady Greystoke. I trust you feel married now?’

  ‘I feel –‘ Limp and sore and confused and quite wonderful, Emily thought, blinking at her husband. ‘ – Very married, thank you.’ There was still that heat in his eyes. Oh my goodness, he wants to do it again. Now. I don’t think I can… I need to get used to this.

  ‘Breakfast,’ she said brightly, slid out of bed and retreated behind the screen with a bundle of the clothes that Blake had tossed on the floor. ‘I’ll have hot water sent up,’ she said as she scrambled into them. ‘There’s some kind of reception room downstairs, I will wait for you there.’

  Her husband lay on the bed, shamelessly naked and smiled at her. She could see he recognised, and understood, her confusion. Emily kept her eyes firmly fixed on his face. She was not going to look down, she did not think she was ready for that yet.

  ‘I’ll join you soon, once I’ve retrieved my portmanteau from the battlements,’ he said. ‘I seem to have acquired quite an appetite from somewhere.’ Pink-cheeked, Emily fled as fast as her rather shaky legs would allow.

  Half an hour later Blake came down the old oak staircase in uniform, his sword and hat in hand, his face clean-shaven, his hair tied back at his nape. Emily caught a glimpse of him through the dining room door and time spun back to the moment she had first seen him walking down the stairs into the Caruthers’s ballroom: handsome, dashing in his full dress uniform, head up, eyes alert. He had seemed so confident, so utterly alive in comparison to the blasé rakes and fashionable young men who clustered round her.

  ‘In here,’ she called. ‘Mrs Tremayne will bring breakfast up in a minute.’ She felt more confident like this, neatly gowned in a fashionable walking dress, seated behind the coffee pot to confront her fully-clothed husband. ‘Coffee?’ She poured it black, as he liked it, and added cream to her own. ‘I had better go down to the Governor’s house and ask Janey if there is anything I can do to help her today.’

  Blake took a gulp of coffee. The last thing he wanted was his newly-discovered wife disappearing into the Governor’s house just hours after he had found her. ‘We will certainly go down so I can express my feelings to Miss Morton on the subject of her romantic hospitality. I had nightmares last night about the shock it gave you.’

  ‘Please not say anything unkind to Janey, she is my dearest friend,’ Emily protested.

  ‘I was simply going to point out that her little plan almost had you pitching down the gap between house and battlements. And what if you had not gone out? What if I had come into your chamber in the dark when you were asleep? You would have been terrified.’

  ‘She meant well.’

  ‘The three most damning words in the English language,’ Blake said darkly, making inroads into a large steak. He was still tingling all over with the after-shock of making love to Emily. He had been dreaming about it for weeks; the reality was even better than he had expected. She was so sweet, and so shy and yet so naturally responsive. He looked up to find her regarding him with a worried frown.

  ‘Should we ask a doctor to look at your shoulder?’

  ‘It has been treated by a military surgeon and redressed by the ship’s doctor, I am in no need of further quackery.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Emily murmured.

  Somehow he distrusted the meek wifeliness. He suspected she would inveigle him into a doctor’s surgery sooner or later. She took her duties as his wife seriously, it seemed, from what she had been doing at Greystoke. But how did she really feel about this marriage? She had cheerfully admitted she was happy to marry for mutual benefit, she had not appeared to pine for a love-match and that had suited him very well – eight weeks ago.

  Perhaps he was simply suffering from the reaction of almost two months behind enemy lines: however successful an operation was, it was always a strain. And yet, this time there had been another edge, a need to get back to Greystoke and the woman he had left there. Blake recalled the laughter and the sheer fun of that bumpy, uncomfortable, frustrating chaise journey down from London as he had tried to kiss and caress her and they had ended up, bruised and laughing on the floor. ‘Never mind,’ he had said as they picked themselves up. ‘There is all the time in the world…’

  Now he looked across the table at his pink-cheeked wife, still slightly flustered from his lovemaking, and felt a fresh jolt of desire.

  ‘Some more toast?’ Emily served them both, then proceeded to regale him with a steady flow of mild gossip culled from the newssheets, observations on the Isles of Scilly, her opinion of ghost stories an
d her delight at not having suffered seasickness on the voyage out from Plymouth. He was not certain whether she was attempting to entertain him or simply erecting a barrier to hide behind. It was an interesting new experience, this marriage.

  When they had finished Emily retrieved her cloak from the chair and led the way out. Blake followed her until they were in the open air on the granite steps to the front entrance. ‘Can’t I persuade you back inside?’ he murmured, catching her around the waist and tipping her chin up so that he could look into her blue eyes.

  ‘No, it is broad daylight!’ Emily said, biting her lower lip in a way that almost had him tossing her over his shoulder to carry her back up to her room. Perhaps she was sore, he thought with a pang of remorse. There would be time to persuade her that lovemaking could occur at any time. ‘Please, I would like to walk.’

  She took his arm as they strolled down the hill past the powder magazine and the lock-up, then turned right along the track that circled the Garrison peninsula to serve the gun emplacements and look-out points. Below them Hugh Town straggled along its narrow spit between two bays. The air was clear, the scattered sand-fringed islands dotted the blue sea and gulls wheeled and screamed overhead.

  ‘A lovely view,’ she commented. ‘I like being beside the sea.’

  ‘I would rather be beside it than on it,’ Blake admitted. ‘No soldier is at ease on water.’

  ‘What about the marines?’

  ‘Neither fish nor fowl,’ he said with the careless arrogance of the regular army officer. The sentry on duty at the house saluted them, the butler threw open the great door and the first thing he saw was Janey Morton crossing the hall, a number of letters in her hands.

  ‘Miss Morton.’

  She started and turned, her expression wary despite her smile of welcome. ‘Ah, Lord Greystoke. So you found your wife.’

  ‘As you see. Unfortunately I so startled Emily that she swooned. A little forewarning might have been advisable.’ He kept his tone perfectly polite and amiable but Emily’s hand tightened on his arm and he saw her flash a warning look at her friend.

  ‘But I am perfectly all right, Janey.’ Emily stepped forward and caught her hand. ‘Is it not wonderful that Lord Greystoke is back safely?’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Miss Morton agreed with a twinkle in her eye that told Blake she was not in the slightest bit abashed about her plotting. ‘What about your ship, my lord? Will you return on it or can we persuade you to join Emily here for a while?’

  ‘Thank you, I would be delighted,’ Blake said. ‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to provide me with writing paper and someone to take a note to the captain? Someone who can arrange to bring my luggage back from the ship.’

  ‘Of course, in here.’ She opened a door into what proved to be the study.

  ‘Thank you. I thought that Emily and I might take a walk this morning. We will find something for luncheon out, if that will not upset the arrangements you had made.’

  ‘Not at all. Benson,’ she turned to the butler. ‘Please have one of the lads take his lordship’s message and let the kitchen know about luncheon. I hope we will see you for dinner.’ She smiled and closed the door, leaving them alone.

  ‘Poor Benson,’ Emily observed. She perched on the arm of one of the leather wing chairs while Blake took a pen from the rack and pulled a sheet of notepaper towards him. Instead of picking up the pen he found himself contemplating her with quiet pleasure until she blushed and looked down at her hands. ‘He does not approve of guests being sent up to the old castle.’

  ‘Is our new butler such a high stickler?’ Blake wrote rapidly, scrawled his signature and found a box of wafers to seal the note.

  ‘I did not presume to engage any of the male staff in your absence. That, according to a most useful book on household management my cousin Miranda gave me, is the prerogative of the man of the house. We have a cook, a housekeeper and maids and your steward sent me men whenever we needed any heavy work carrying out.’

  She broke off as Benson returned, accepted the note and bowed himself out.

  ‘So I must apply myself to the duties of a householder on my return, must I?’ Blake sat back in the chair, unexpectedly entertained by his managing wife.

  Emily hesitated then looked him straight in the eye. ‘You intend to return now?’

  ‘Of course.’ Blake stood up, but she remained seated, simply tipping her head slightly to watch him. ‘I will have to report to Horse Guards, be debriefed about the mission. But I am due some leave and I intend to take it.’

  There was something in her eyes, a fleeting shadow. Then, as he opened his mouth to question it she gave a little shrug and stood up and he wondered if he had imagined she had been disappointed in some way. Did she want him to remain in the army? Had she become used to her independence? ‘The sun is shining, let us make the most of it.’

  He had hoped that she might be fearful that he would leave her again soon. But she had married him for position and the title and for the future of the children she hoped they would have together. Now, it seemed Emily had become quite self-sufficient. In fact it sounded as though the house was very much her domain and she could manage perfectly well without him until such time as she wanted a butler interviewed.

  Or until she needed a man in her bed? Despite a growing uneasiness about his wife’s feelings, Blake smiled, thinking about that. ‘Come on then, show me your island retreat.’ He followed her out into the sunshine.

  ‘I love it here, on the islands,’ Emily admitted, threading her hand through his arm again once they were past the guards and taking the track that wound round out of sight along the contour of the peninsula. ‘This is called the Garrison.’ On their left a wall protected the steep slopes up from the sea, on their right the ground rose towards spindly trees on the summit of the peninsula. ‘The weather has turned so warm.’

  ‘The view is spectacular,’ Blake conceded. ‘Even after a week on board, I can see the charm of islands scattered over a blue sea.’ They passed a gun emplacement and the sentries snapped to attention. He returned the salute. ‘It is not my idea of a peaceful stroll to be encountering soldiers every five minutes.’

  Emily chuckled. He loved that slightly wicked sound. ‘No. We take this path here and we’ll be up on the top and out of sight.’

  Blake looked down at her, but her face, what he could see of it beneath the broad-brimmed hat, was open and ingenuous. It was obviously only his own mind that was running on the things a man and a woman might find to do outside on a sunny Spring day. It had obviously never occurred to his wife that he had other exercise than walking in mind.

  Chapter Four

  They reached the sheep-cropped top and found themselves alone except for the flock which ran away, bleating in foolish panic. Emily, for all that she was town-bred, had tackled the slope with ease and was not even slightly out of breath. He wondered just how hard she had been working on the filthy old house herself.

  ‘…cutting down trees because of the kelp-burners. Are you listening to a word I am saying, my lord?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted and surprised a snort of laughter from her. ‘And, while I appreciate you maintaining the formalities for the Mortons’ alarming butler, I prefer my given name, Emily. Please resume your lecture on the islands.’

  ‘I am not lecturing, my… Blake. I was endeavouring to make conversation.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘And do not say indeed like that! I am nervous enough as it is.’ Emily’s tone was light and her lips were smiling but tension threaded through her voice.

  ‘Nervous?’ Blake stopped dead. ‘Still? Why? Surely the worst is over?’

  ‘The worst? Is that how you describe your lovemaking?’ Despite her blushes, she was smiling.

  ‘You were a virgin. It must have been uncomfortable, at least. It will be better next time, I promise.’

  ‘It is not that. It is because I had been married to you for less than a day and then you vanish and I find it ta
kes some time to become accustomed to having a husband again, if you must have the truth.’ She hesitated. ‘Especially one I do not know.’

  ‘Emily, what do you feel – ‘

  ‘Where did you go?’ she asked, cutting across the question he had not realised he had meant to ask her. Not yet. ‘Oh, I am sorry. You were about to say something.’

  ‘It does not matter.’ It did, but he needed to think through why he was asking the question before he posed it. ‘I went to Spain.’ He caught her hand. ‘Emily, this spot is sheltered, let us sit here a while.’ Blake unfastened his cloak, spread it over the turf in a little dip in the lea of a hedge-bank, sat and held up his hand to her. She curled down beside him and watched his face.

  ‘I am sorry I left you with the house and estate in such a mess,’ he said. ‘I should have warned you. I had expected at least a month at home, but something came up.’ He shrugged, he had a reputation for tricky missions, it was not the first time he had been summoned at short notice.

  ‘Why was it in such a state?’ she asked him, suddenly serious. ‘I know you warned me, but I had not expected it to be so bad.’

  ‘My uncle was eccentric, to put it kindly, and he had fallen out with my father. He would never let me interfere, as he put it. Now, with it in such a state I may have to sell out.’

  She kept her eyes fixed on the sea, but he sensed she was only feigning an interest in a frigate that was beating out to the open ocean. ‘Why? Why sell out? You obviously do not wish to.’

  ‘I suppose I have always known I might have to once I inherited the title and the estate. You know what condition it is in now. I have a responsibility to get it into good order again for the tenants are suffering, the land is deteriorating and, much as my great uncle despised it, I feel a duty to carry on the name.’

  ‘So you had decided to leave the army before you met me?’ she asked, frowning a little at the retreating ship.

  ‘I told you, I was thinking about it. I still am. If I have to leave the army it won’t be your fault, Emily.’