To Seduce a Sinner (Legend of the Four Soldiers #2)(48)

“I sense a tragedy in the making.” Her face was grave, but somehow her eyes laughed at him.

“Indeed.” He took a strawberry and twirled the stem between his fingers. “By afternoon, we were covered in mud, sweaty and panting, and we’d somehow constructed a contraption about three feet square, although square it certainly was not.”

She bit her lip as if to keep from laughing. “And?”

He set his elbows on the table, still holding the strawberry, and assumed a solemn expression. “In retrospect, I very much doubt that the thing we’d assembled could float on the water by itself. Naturally, the notion of trying it out on the water before actually trying to sail on it never occurred to us.”

She was smiling now, no longer holding back the laughter, and he felt a thrill of gladness. To make this woman lose composure, to make her express joy, was no mean feat. And the wonder of it was the pleasure he took in making her smile.

“The outcome was inevitable, I fear.” He reached across the table and pressed the strawberry he held against that smiling mouth. She parted her pale pink lips and bit into the fruit. His groin tightened, and he stared at her mouth as she chewed. “We came a cropper almost immediately, the very instability of the raft saving us.”

She swallowed. “How so?”

He tossed aside the strawberry stem and folded his arms on the table. “We got only about a yard from shore before we sank. We landed in the weeds, the water only to our waists.”

“That’s all?”

He felt th S"3"idte corner of his mouth kick up. “Well, it would’ve been all had not Reynaud managed to land almost on top of a goose nest.”

She winced. “Oh, dear.”

He nodded. “Oh, dear, indeed. The gander took exception to us invading his pond-side cottage. Chased us nearly back to Vale Manor. And there, my tutor finally caught up with us and gave me such a caning I could hardly sit for a week. Haven’t really cared for roast goose since.”

For a moment, he held her laughing brown eyes, the room quiet, the servants somewhere out in the hall. Jasper could feel each inhale, feel time seem to pause as he looked into his wife’s eyes. He was on the precipice of something—a turning point in his life, a new way of feeling or thinking—he wasn’t sure, but it was right beneath his feet. All he had to do was take the step.

But it was Melisande who moved. She shoved back her chair and rose.

“I thank you, my lord, for a very amusing tale.” And she walked to the dining room door.

Jasper blinked. “Are you leaving me so soon?”

She paused, her ramrod-straight back still toward him. “I hoped you would accompany me upstairs.” She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes grave, mysterious, and just a little teasing. “My courses are over.”

She closed the door very quietly behind her.

MELISANDE HEARD A muttered curse followed by a sharp bark as she left the dining room. She smiled. No doubt Vale had forgotten Mouse’s leash tied to his wrist. She mounted the stairs quickly, not looking back. She could feel the beat of her pulse, was aware that he would be following her. The thought sped her feet as she reached the upper hallway.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her on the stairs, drawing swiftly closer. He must be taking the treads two at a time. She reached her bedroom door, her breath coming in short pants of excitement. She pushed through the door into the empty room and ran to the fireplace, where she whirled around.

Vale prowled into the room a moment later.

“What did you do with Mouse?” She struggled to keep her voice even.

“Gave him to a footman.” He locked the door.

“I see.”

He turned back to her and halted, his head cocked. He seemed to be waiting for her move.

Melisande inhaled and glided forward. “He sleeps with me usually, you know.”

She grasped the edges of his coat and drew them apart, urging it from his arms.

“In this room?”

“In my bed.” She laid his coat carefully on a chair.

“Ah. Indeed.” His eyebrows were drawn together as if he were puzzling something out.

“Indeed,” she repeated softly. She pulled loose hi Sullfons neck cloth and laid it on the coat. Her hands shook as if she had a palsy.

“In the bed.”

“Yes.” She unbuttoned his waistcoat.

He shrugged out of it and dropped it to the floor. She glanced at it and decided to leave it. She began working on his shirt.

“I would think . . .” He trailed away, seeming to lose his train of thought.

She drew his shirt off over his head and looked at him. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should sit down.”

“Why?” She wasn’t about to let this go the way of their wedding night. She laid her fingertips on his chest and traced down lightly over his stomach, reveling in the freedom to touch his bare skin.

He sucked in his belly in reaction. “Ah . . .”

She reached his breeches and found the buttons.

“Slow.”

“You think we should slow down?” she asked gently. She slipped buttons through their holes.

“Well . . .”

“Yes?” The flap of his breeches sagged open.

“Ah . . .”

“Or no?” She slid her hand into his smallclothes and found him hard and heavy, waiting just for her. Warmth pooled at her center in anticipation. She’d have him tonight—have him the way she wanted.