“You agreed to it.” She could barely keep the tremor out of her voice, could barely keep her body from shivering. She wanted to tell him to stop, but he had every right to touch her this way. She was his wife. And truth be told, she rather liked it. It had been some time since a man had touched her, despite what the gossipmongers of the ton speculated. She had missed a man’s touch, her husband’s touch.
“I still agree to the list, but if the Protector takes Lorrie’s mind off that idiot Francis Mostyn, I am all for it. Besides”—he bent and placed his lips on her bare shoulder—“a kiss is harmless, is it not?”
Oh, this was no harmless kiss. Her entire body seemed to come alive, a fire of awareness shooting through her. “Yes,” she breathed.
He moved his mouth up, kissing her neck. Susan closed her eyes.
“Where were you?” the duke asked.
Susan opened her eyes, met his glittering green ones in the mirror. She could lie. She could rouse his jealousy, tell him she was with a lover. She could hurt him, as she had in the past. Hurt him in recompense for all the times he’d hurt her. Yes, he had begun to pursue her, as promised. He’d had flowers sent on her breakfast tray this morning, sought her out in the parlor as she went through correspondence, and then joined her for dinner at the prince’s ball. Yes, he had pursued her, but that did not mean he would continue to do so. Who was to say he would not grow tired of her again?
She opened her mouth, the lie on her tongue, and then shook her head. She was too weary to lie tonight. Weary from the ball and weary of the wall they’d erected between them. She could lower hers, just a little, tonight.
“I left the conservatory with Lady Thorpe and Lady Lindsey. Lady Lindsey’s youngest son has just left for the West Indies.” Charles’s lips grazed her ear and she dug her nails into her skirts because she wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him there. “I can’t remember where exactly, but Prinny has an extensive map collection in the library. He offered her use of it.”
“And so you were in the library with Prinny?” The lips on her ear nipped.
She gasped at the rush of arousal that flooded through her. “N-no. A footman brought us.”
Charles pulled back. “And you spent the entire evening in the library with Lady Lindsey and Lady Thorpe?”
“Why not? We had wine, books, friends.” She could see by the way his mouth tightened that he didn’t believe her. She hadn’t thought she would care, but she did. Some small part of her wanted him to trust her again. “I suppose that’s not as exciting as sneaking away for a tryst with a lover.” She shrugged. “I’ll oblige next time.”
His hand landed roughly on her shoulder, and he spun her around so quickly she almost toppled over. He caught her by the arms and pulled her up. “No, you will not. Next time I will not allow you out of my sight.”
She stared at him, hardly knowing her husband. How many years had it been since she’d seen so much passion in him—so much passion for her?
“What has come over you?” she asked.
His hands slid down her arms, protectively but sensually as well. “I told you. I intend to win back your affections.”
“And how long will that resolution last? Until you find new prey?”
He leaned close, so close she thought he might kiss her. “I believe the vow I made was until death do us part. I plan to keep it.” He did try and kiss her then. He bent to take her mouth, and she almost allowed it.
Susan braced a hand on his chest. “And I should trust you?”
He gave her a long look. “We will have to learn to trust each other.”
*
Lorrie hiked up her skirts and placed one leg over the window ledge. “Don’t look down,” she told herself. That was easier said than done. She reached for the tree whose branches brushed against the windowpane and woke her with their tapping on stormy nights. The tree limb was wide enough that she might crawl or scoot on it without any fear that it would break. But that would require releasing the window and grabbing the tree.
“Dratted Viking,” she muttered to herself as she attempted to muster the courage.
She’d spent the past seven days trying to escape the Viking with absolutely no success whatsoever. She woke in the morning thinking of the kiss they’d shared. She went to sleep cursing him because despite the fact that she and Francis had attended more than half a dozen of the same events over the past week—two musicales, three dinner parties, a ball, and a garden party—they had not been able to do more than nod at each other. Every time Francis approached her or she passed near to him, the Viking stepped between them and whisked her away.
He was very good at whisking, that Viking. Somehow he managed to snake his arm through hers and ferry her away without making it look as though she were being dragged unwillingly.
Which she was. Mostly. And she had wanted to protest each and every time he acted so impertinently, but she quite forgot her objections when he was close to her. This led to difficulty falling asleep. She felt horribly guilty for the way her body betrayed her when the Viking was near. If she had really loved Francis, would she keep wishing his cousin would kiss her again?
Lorrie felt certain if Francis would simply kiss her again—really kiss her—she would not think quite so much about the Viking. And if Francis were to bed her, she would not think about the Viking at all.
That meant she needed to marry sooner rather than later. She could not wait until Francis saw reason. And the more they were apart, the more unlikely Francis was to see things her way. She could blame that on the Viking as well!
She would certainly blame him if she fell to her death climbing out the window. Lorrie took a deep breath and closed her hands around the tree limb. Behind her, Wellington yipped. Lorrie twisted her head around and glared at the puppy. “Shh! No!”
Welly yipped again and laid his paws on the windowsill, clawing and tugging at her skirts. Normally, she would have found this invitation to play irresistible, but at the moment, she wished she had sent the dog to sleep in the kitchen as she had before he had been mostly housebroken. The Viking seemed to have ears like an owl. He was bound to hear Welly’s barks. He seemed to hear everything, including her whispered curses about him.
Her only hope was the Viking had not chosen to sleep at the town house tonight. He didn’t always sleep under her father’s roof. The family had returned home relatively early tonight, and she had gone straight to bed. Hopefully the Viking had seen no reason to remain in Berkeley Square.
Lorrie shushed the dog again, then eased her way off the window and onto the tree limb. Her heart pounded almost painfully in her chest until she was firmly planted on the tree branch. Now she only had to climb down the tree.