Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

G erard did not get much work done, and he was coming to regret not attending the ball. He realized that his imagination had decided to fill in the blanks of what he did not know.

Who is Seraphina dancing with? More importantly who is she spending her time with?

He remembered that he had, that she had mentioned a friend.

Rosalind.

He regretted not asking more about her. If she was the source of the lurid books in Seraphina's library, then it followed that she was not exactly conventional. What else might she lead Seraphina into doing? If he was to extrapolate from what he knew of his wife when they married, it would seem this Rosalind really brought her out of her shell.

Gerard wasn't sure if this was a good idea. His wallet certainly thought that it was a very bad idea.

Gerard did not think of himself as a man who pinched pennies, and he certainly wanted his wife to be comfortable, but there was a level of extravagant in Seraphina's dealings.

Look at how many gowns she bought her sister, just to attend a few balls.

Gerard did not know Lord Northwick well. All he knew for sure was that Seraphina wanted to get away from him. But there had been no indication that he deprived his children of clothes. So why did Seraphina have to show up like her sister was walking around naked?

He thrust his evening paper aside, too irritated to focus on the day's political news, and uninterested in the gossip. He got to his feet intending to go to bed. Tomorrow was another day and maybe he would think about having a talk with Seraphina and resolving their issues.

He walked down the corridor, extinguishing all the lamps except the one in the foyer. That one would light Seraphina's way whenever she decided to come home. He paused at the bottom step, staring at the door, wondering if he should collect his coat and make his way to the ball.

He shook his head, snorting to himself at that terrible idea, and began to climb the stairs. He had just reached the top of the stairs when he heard the carriage draw up outside. He dug his fob out of his pocket and checked the time. It was still rather early.

Why did she come back so fast?

He hesitated wondering if he should wait for her, or just go to his room and sleep. His curiosity won out. He went to his room and changed into his night clothes. He paused as he heard the sound of her footsteps walking slowly down the corridor, her heels creating a staccato on the wooden floor. He marched to his door and opened it abruptly.

She jumped in surprise, her right hand flying up to her heaving bosom.

"Gerard," she exclaimed. "You scared me."

"Apologies. I didn't mean to do that."

"It's quite all right. I just wasn't expecting to see you."

He looked her up and down. She was wearing a soft cream gown, and her hair was now loose down her shoulders, as she had undone her updo. She had on golden hoops in her ears, and the large gold bracelets on her wrists. Her high waisted gown cradled her ample breasts lovingly.

She looked quite ravishing.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked a little sharply. He did not like that other people had looked at her, probably with interest, in her current ensemble.

She snorted, tossing her head insolently. "As if you care," she said as she stepped past him.

Without thinking about it he reached out and grabbed her hand. "Why would you speak to me that way?" he asked.

She gave an incredulous laugh. "Are you serious? When I asked you to come with me, what did you say?"

"That is neither here nor there." He got further annoyed by her sulking. She was a grown woman, has she not learned how to accept the word no?

"Well, if it's neither here nor there, then why do you want to know how it went? You clearly said you have no interest. So continue to have no interest. Goodnight."

She tried to jerk her hand out of his arm, but he tightened his hold. He did not even know why he was so insistent. He simply did not like how dismissive she was being.

She whirled around to face him, glaring into his face. "Unhand me," she snapped.

He shook his head. "Not until you learn to speak to me with respect."

She threw back her head and laughed. "Respect? How am I to do that? You have given me no reason to respect you."

Gerard's head swooped down before he could think, he was taking her bottom lip into his mouth and biting down. He tasted blood, and she whimpered. Instead of leaving well enough alone, he swiped his tongue against her lip sucking her blood into his own mouth, before suckling at her lip before letting it go.

She stared up at him in wide-eyed befuddlement, and he took advantage of her discombobulation to bend down and bury his teeth in her neck.

He sucked a bruise into her flesh, feeling her pulse rabbiting beneath his mouth, breathing in her scent and reveling in her softness. He heard her gasp, her back arching so that her breasts brushed against his chest. His hands traveled downward squeezing her buttocks, as he pulled her close.

Her hands rose up to his chest, then she pushed at him. When he realized that she was trying to push him away, he let go at once, stumbling back in mortification. He had not meant to paw at her like some hungry animal.

What she must think of me.

He turned away from her, intending to lock himself in his chambers, so that she might know that she was safe.

"Gerard."

Her voice stopped him cold. But he did not turn around.

"What are we doing?" she sounded bewildered, her voice shook, and he could hear her harsh breathing. Shame suffused him.

What was he doing? What game was this he was playing with her?

He turned his head slightly, so that he could just see her in the periphery of his vision. "I don't know," he said hoarsely.

She simply stood there, panting in confusion. "I think I'm going to need more of an explanation than that."

He sighed heavily. "And you certainly deserve one."

Slowly, he turned around and stared at her. Her face was flushed, mouth partly open as she panted gently. Her bosom was still heaving. There was a swollen red bruise on her neck where he'd bitten down, and her lips were swollen.

She looked—and there was no better word for it—debauched. The worst thing was that seeing her like that made him want to mess her up even more. He wanted to grab her by the hair, pull her head back and expose her neck to his ministrations. He wanted to mark her up until her neck was a network of bruises, so that anyone looking at her would know what he had done.

He wanted to tear her gown at the bosom, and expose her warm, soft, heavy breasts to his hands. He wanted to pinch and massage them, poke and suck her nipples until they were too sensitive to touch.

He wanted to pin her against the wall, arms and legs spread out. He would grab fistfuls of her gown, pushing them out of the way so that she was left exposed to him, with no care that a footman might pass by and see them, or a maid, looking to empty a chamber pot.

It made him feel hot, and as if he had ants crawling under his skin. He was so terribly, terribly aroused that he was afraid that his manhood might break off should he bump it against something. He fisted his hands and closed his eyes unable to fathom the depths of depravity he was imagining.

This is not me. I don't lose control like this.

He turned away from her and stumbled into his room.

"Gerard?"

He heard her call his name, but he was in no position to answer. Turning the key, he made sure his door was locked before stumbling over to the bedside table and pouring water from the jug into the basin that sat there. He dipped his entire head inside the water, holding his breath until he could hold it no longer. He straightened up with a gasp, panting as he stared blankly at the wall.

He walked to the mirror and stared into it, shaking his head.

"Who are you and what are you doing?" he whispered to himself.

He did not know what had possessed him, but he vowed to himself not to let his control slip like that another time. He had no idea what he would tell his wife, how he could possibly excuse his actions, but he knew he had to find a way.

What he knew for sure was that he could never allow what happened this evening to ever happen again. He wasn't sure his already fragile marriage could survive it.