Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

I n fact, Selina did drift off to sleep. But voices in the corridor just outside the door woke her.

She tensed, gripping her drawing implements, praying there were no telltale signs of her presence as she heard Lord Chauncy's soft tread upon the floorboards as he prepared for bed.

After a quick knock, his valet entered the room, and Selina heard the desultory male chatter as the man, Stevens, undressed his master, and folded his clothing.

Just the usual exchange between master and servant.

Until Stevens asked, "The drawing will be ready for the courier tomorrow, my lord? Is it a fair likeness?"

"I have not seen it, but I trust it will be. I wanted it tonight."

Selina held her breath. Lord Chauncy must be very anxious to prove to his intended bride he was every bit as handsome as renowned. Perhaps his future wife was a lady of sceptical tendencies?

Stevens was speaking again. "This portraitist? Can he be trusted?"

This made her tense, frowning as she tried to make sense of the words. Trusted?

"He is hardly heroic material, but his speed with a pencil is all that's required. Tomorrow I shall see what he is capable of, though I am a little concerned that he is perhaps not as quick as I'd been led to believe."

Selina tensed even more. Surely His Grace would not be looking over Edward's shoulder? And why was speed important? Good art took time.

Though not when the pencil was in Selina's hands.

The valet was speaking once more. "You have it on good authority that he can render a perfect likeness in seconds. Remember, he is likely to be daunted when in the presence of such a great man as you, Your Grace. He'll be striving for perfection over speed."

Lord Chauncy grunted. "I need both. Well, it was always going to be an imperfect solution, but the idea was as good as I could come up with, given the situation."

Selina was still puzzling over his words as the valet departed and she heard Lord Chauncy climb into the large four-poster.

She was wide awake now, fully alert to the sounds that would indicate sleep.

No, fully alert to what Lord Chauncy might look like in repose.

For the last two days, she'd studied his every expression. She was familiar with the dilation of his eyes when he was curious or animated, though he kept his other responses contained. She'd learned to decipher the subtle cues of his expressions. A faint lift of the right corner of his mouth denoted amusement, while the slight flattening of his lips revealed his contemplative state.

But what about the rest of him?

What might he feel like if she ran her hands down him, just as he'd done to her the previous night?

She cut the thought off at the root and might have berated herself for her unmaidenly thinking had another noise not intruded.

The soft opening of the door.

Not preceded by any knock.

"Chauncy?"

The breathy voice was difficult to place, but it was not a servant, as no servant would address their master in such a manner, and the tone was well bred.

"Catherine."

She heard His Grace sit up, and then something like a sigh before he murmured, "Not tonight."

"If it's my husband, he?—"

"No, Catherine. It's over." His tone gentled before he added, "Go back to your husband. He loves you, don't you know?"

"But not as I love you . How can you deny all that we have shared?"

"I deny none of it, Catherine. But our time together is at an end."

"Then why did you invite me here?"

"I invited you to Chauncy Manor because your husband is my friend and we had business. Not because we were once lovers, Catherine. That was a long time ago."

Lady Saunders . Selina stifled her shock. How could she have missed the clandestine looks that would have indicated such a relationship when she prided herself on being so observant?

She heard a soft sob, then the sound of Lord Chauncy getting out of bed, gently reminding Lady Saunders of her proposed dawn ride with her husband in just a few hours as he escorted his visitor to the door.

When it clicked behind him, his soft footsteps indicated he was returning to the bed.

Selina could see the faint halo of light from his candlestick, which illuminated his ankles beneath his banyan. She studied the elegant feet, the well-muscled calves lightly covered with dark hair, and her heart did strange things as she tried to ward off the accompanying wicked thoughts.

She should have realized that the legs remained too long where they were.

That the fact he didn't climb into bed indicated something had alerted his senses.

"You can come out now, whoever you are," came his voice, soft but harsh. "I have a pistol pointed at the floor, so do not think you can surprise me. I am prepared."

Selina gasped, immediately affirming her presence.

What else could she do?

Dry-mouthed, she inched her way from beneath the bed. How could she explain being here? If he squeezed the truth out of her, Edward would be exposed. He would never forgive Selina for revealing their ruse. He would never?—

"Good God! Lady Boothe?"

Sheepishly, Selina straightened before him.

"You are bold. Were you planning to insinuate yourself into my bed but were frightened away by my former lover?"

There was amusement in his tone as he placed the pistol on the side table together with the candlestick, which bathed the bed in a soft light. He chuckled when he saw her horror.

"For all I knew, you could have been intending to do me harm." He regarded her in silence for a moment, as if deciding what to do. Then his smile broadened. "I hope no one saw you, for you are courting danger in this household on a night where the corridors are overrun with visitors and servants. I don't worry for myself, but I do for?—"

"I climbed in through the window," whispered Selina, her teeth chattering from the chill wind blowing against her damp night rail.

"Not just bold, but determined, I see. You insinuated as much during our conversation earlier." He took a step towards her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Why, you're as cold as ice. Your nightrail is damp. You need to get warm."

He smiled down at her with a nod to indicate the bed, and a suggestive note crept into his voice as he added, "That is, I presume, why you are here."

Selina was struck dumb. The thought had never occurred to her… But what other possible reason could she have for hiding in His Grace's room?

Of course, she couldn't tell him the truth. That was the last thing she could tell him.

Yet she also couldn't possibly accede to his invitation to climb into his bed.

Or agree that she was here to…

Seduce him?

What kind of woman would that make her? Why, he'd think her wanton. Insane?—?

Thoughtfully, she nodded slightly.

He did think her insane.

And now Selina was Anna. At least, in the eyes and mind of the duke who considered that ‘Anna's' wild impulses were the reason she was here.

And Anna was, as Selina had already told him—even he didn't already know it—a woman who spoke her mind and took her pleasures as she wished.

"You are wavering, Lady Boothe. Have you changed your mind?"

"No…" Selina drew out the word the moment it appeared he was about to offer her a reprieve. "No, I was prepared to wait for you as long as it took, Your Grace." She shivered even more as she added, "I just didn't think I would get quite so cold waiting."

"Then, as a gentleman, let me warm you while you gather yourself." He chuckled suggestively. "And can tell me what wild impulses you were acting on that brought you here, madam."

"You're very welcome to call me?—"

"Anna?"

Lord, she'd almost said Selina. But Anna would do. Lady Boothe was cold and wrong.

"First, let us remove your night rail. I'd not have you die of a chill if I can prevent it. Allow me."

Selina swallowed. Gazing up at him, she saw the duke's mouth quirk at her apparent show of modesty.

But he said nothing as she obediently raised her arms, and he drew the linen garment up and over her head.

Revealing Selina from head to foot with not a stitch of clothing.

He took a step back to admire her.

At least, the look in his eye suggested that was what he was doing.

Then he reached forward and gently stroked her nipple.

Selina gasped as a rush of desire overwhelmed her, as thoroughly as a bucket of warm water might have in her current cold but needy state.

For she was being reminded of what she had missed for so many years.

Of what she had missed forever.

Before her thoughts could crystalize, the duke's mouth was on hers as he pulled her closer. His hands roamed over her sensitive skin, their warmth sparking tendrils of desire when they cupped her breasts, kneading them gently before contouring her curves; then, when reaching the heated moisture at the juncture of her thigh, finding the true extent of her longing.

It was all the encouragement he needed, it seemed, for with a soft chuckle he whisked Selina up into his arms and dropped her onto his bed.

As she heard the soft sound of his banyan slithering to the floor, Selina was enfolded by the large, soft, comfortable feather mattress, already warmed by the duke's body from earlier.

And now that lean, muscled body was fitting very nicely into her curves as he tucked her against him with what sounded like a sigh of satisfaction.

"And now, dear Anna, reassure me that your bravado has not been misplaced and you're not already regretting your wild impulses?" He drew back to look at her while his hands gently caressed her skin.

Selina smiled. She'd already thrown caution to the wind. She'd already lied and taken on the persona of her sister-in-law to?—?

She stopped as guilt tugged at her before the justification came to her rescue.

Selina was doing this so that Edward could help keep a roof over not just his and Selina's head, but so that Anna could be housed in comfort rather than being sent away to the lunatic asylum, as Edward had threatened on more than one occasion.

"Why, you, of course, Your Grace." She sent an appreciative look at his chest.

"I am not in the habit of taking other men's wives into my bed, madam, and your husband may not take too kindly to being cuckolded."

"Pah!" Selina made the derisive noise as her expression kindled. "A husband who has shown no husbandly attention in years has no right to take exception to his wife seeking husbandly attention where she can."

My, that was bold, but suddenly Selina was fired up by the excitement of being someone other than herself.

Poor Anna was hardly going to be affected, and Selina could enjoy one small exploratory foray for both of them.

"You do realize the world believes I am mad, Your Grace? Are you not afraid you will be tainted by me?"

He considered this as he leaned on one elbow, his face above hers, before he gently touched her nose with his forefinger. "My definition of mad is perhaps a little more lenient than most. I once had a cousin called Gwyneth. You remind me of her. She chafed at being constrained and was called mad. Or have you tried to burn the house down?"

"No." Selina considered whether either she or Anna had committed violence. "Beyond cutting up a letter in anger that my husband received cautioning him to restrain me from offering my unwanted opinion on certain matters, I have wielded no sharp instruments nor lit any fires. I have a temper, on occasion, and an opinion. These, apparently, can constitute madness."

"But right now, as you lie in my bed, I can see no signs of madness." Leaning over her with a smile, he kissed her brow. "What is it you want from me, Anna?" His mouth curved. "I am your host. Your husband's host. We could lie here, skin against skin, and you could drive me wild, but we could do no more than talk. I am an honorable man. Your husband is my guest. In fact, I depend upon your husband for something I want very much. Something I need very much. I would not alienate him."

"You ask what I want from you? What brought me here?" Selina snuggled against him. She should have recoiled and accepted the reprieve he offered. But when her fingers were drawn, as if by an invisible chord, to explore the warmth and hardness of him, the discovery that he was tense and clearly ready for action was thrilling. She trailed her hand down his flank to cup his manhood and when it sprang to attention, she whispered, "I want excitement, though perhaps I should not be here in deference to your future wife."

"Ah, yes, my future wife." His voice was hoarse.

Selina raised her head a little. She saw his eyes shift evasively and wondered at the conversation she'd overheard as she prompted, "That is the reason you wish this likeness, is it not?"

But his thoughts appeared to be elsewhere as he murmured, "It is not a love match. Not a match based on desire." He shivered and his breath caught as he caressed her breast, murmuring, "Not, I think, like this, which is very much rooted in desire."