***
The hour was well advanced when she approached the dressing table. She slipped off her night rail, and selecting her favorite scent of damask rose, strategically daubed the stopper at her neck—remembering with a shiver how his lips had grazed it—and then between the full breasts he had openly admired. She cupped them now, the weight of them heavy in her hands, and regarded her reflection, wondering what he would see, how he would react when she disrobed for him. Would she be all that he had imagined, or in some way disappointing? It took a conscious effort to tamp down the virulent doubts that threatened her resolve.
Forgoing the gown she’d discarded, Diana donned only her wrapper, a diaphanous silk. She took down her hair, riffling her fingers through the waves until they cascaded over her shoulders, and by the light of a single candle, ventured to the north wing apartments and Lord DeVere.
***
Ludovic raked an exasperated hand over his stubbled jaw and took a long drink. Although he wouldn’t relish the nights he would now spend palming himself, he had at last bid Caroline her overdue farewell. Lewd and adventurous, she’d been his longest bed partner, but he’d long become bored with her shallow vanity and irritated by her constant demands on his time and attention. Still, he didn’t doubt Diana’s arrival had been the final impetus for her dismissal. The frustration he now felt was a bittersweet penalty for his impetuous actions.
He didn’t know what it was about Diana that got under his skin. She was handsome and voluptuous, the type that attracted him most, but he’d known women more beautiful and charming than she. Perhaps it was the heat he detected beneath that thick layer of icy reserve? His instincts were never wrong about that. No doubt it was also the challenge she presented, the difficulty of the conquest that appealed to him. He’d not been challenged by a woman in a very long time.
He hadn’t seen the Baroness since that morning and had no doubt that she was avoiding him. He wondered if he’d overplayed his hand in making his desire for her so clear. He’d ensured she had no doubt of his interest, several times even. He’d never known a woman to refuse his bed once his interest was made known. She was more than ripe for an amorous interlude. The air between them virtually crackled with sexual tension at every encounter. Yet still, she had demurred. Damn her.
The thought of inciting her to embrace her darkest desires, to unleash her passion was the incarnation of his most erotic dreams. Bloody hell! It was enough to drive him mad. He couldn’t remember the last time any woman had invoked such a carnal hunger. Damn, his cock throbbed at the thought of those magnificent white mounds. He wanted to pillow his face in them and suckle the dusky peaks while burying himself cock to balls inside her.
It was then that he saw movement. “Damn it, Caroline! I thought you had departed this afternoon for The Oaks. I’ve already made my sentiments perfectly clear. Why must you make this so bloody difficult?” Ludovic was incensed. He rose, setting his glass down with a decisive clink, but three paces revealed his error.
If he’d wanted Diana before, his desire was magnified tenfold by the vision of her in his bedchamber. Garbed in diaphanous silk that clung to every luscious curve, her russet waves fell in a wanton cascade over her shoulders. Eyes of moss green regarded him with luminous trepidation. She had come to him at last. His cock twitched in eager anticipation for the answer to his most selfish prayers.
***
It was with a feeling of déjà vu that Diana entered the viscount’s bedchamber. The rooms were much as she had envisaged in her dream, her footsteps muffled by the deep plush carpeting, the massive tester bed with its curtains drawn back, the flickering candle in her hand, except that when she drew near, she found the bed empty. Her heart dropped like a stone.
Her first thought was that he had not yet retired, but the house was deadly quiet, and Ned and Annalee had turned in hours ago. Then it dawned on her—Caroline, and Diana cursed herself for ten kinds of fool. She knew they were lovers. Why would she ever have imagined he would have gone to his bed alone, that he would be waiting for her? Especially after she had repulsed him, not once, but thrice.
Diana tried to convince herself that it was all for the best, that she was not the kind of woman to carry on an illicit intrigue and would only live to regret it if she had carried out her plan. But the truth was heart-sundering disappointment. She had wanted—no, needed this. Desperately. She turned to depart, but froze at the angry assault to her ears.
“Damn it, Caroline! I thought you had departed this afternoon for The Oaks. I’ve already made my sentiments perfectly clear. Why must you make this so bloody difficult?”