The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(95)

“In every room in the house. Long before you married me, too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

With a sly smile, he rose and took her hand. “Come with me.”

He took her through the house to the conservatory, where he nodded to the dais by the window. “I’ve pictured you lying there naked, bathed in sunlight, while I take you.”

Reveling in her blush, he led her through the halls into the music room. “The possibility of sitting on that pianoforte bench while you rode me has seen me through many a dull recital.”

She gaped at him. “Not Yvette’s, I hope.”

“Good God, no. But yours, for certain.”

“Are you saying that my playing bores you?”

“I’m saying that it always provided a fitting backdrop for my fantasy.”

Raking her with a long, slow glance for emphasis, he laughed when she said, “Oh, Lord, now I’ll never be able to look you in the eye when I’m playing for guests.”

“Shall I go on?” he asked.

A look of challenge crossed her face. “I’ll bet there’s one room you haven’t imagined making love to me in. The kitchen.”

“Are you mad? Of course I’ve pictured you there, splayed on the table to provide me with a delicious feast.” When she looked surprised, he said, “Mind you, we could never serve food from there again if I acted on it, but God knows I’ve imagined it.”

She looped her arms about his neck. “When I married you, Lord Blakeborough, I had no idea you were such a naughty man.”

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t have assumed I could wait a bloody year to bed you.”

Remorse tinged her cheeks pink. “What if it really had been a year? Would you have complied with my terms?”

“Of course. But you wouldn’t have lasted that long. You’re too much of a naughty woman for that. And I was too bent on seducing you.”

She got that melting look in her eyes that never failed to enrapture him, and he was on the verge of dragging her into his arms and ravishing her, when a voice came from the door. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

Edwin cursed inwardly . . . and then realized that the voice was vaguely familiar. No—it couldn’t be.

But it could. “Niall?” Clarissa said, turning for the door. “Niall!”

She broke away from Edwin and ran to hug her brother. The man Edwin had remembered as being tall and gangly had filled out into quite a stalwart fellow. His hair was darker than Clarissa’s—more like sun-streaked bronze—but his expression was hard. Clearly his sojourn on the Continent had changed him.

Behind him stood Warren, who watched the siblings with a smile.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Clarissa asked. “Did you sneak into England?” She shook him. “You cannot be here—you’re a fugitive. They could hang you!”

“Doubtful,” Warren said as he glanced beyond Niall to Edwin. “After all the trouble Fulkham and I took to get him back legally, it wouldn’t make sense for the government to turn around and hang him. And I would be most annoyed.”

“So would I,” Niall said dryly. “I don’t fancy having a rope for a cravat.”

She whirled on Edwin. “Did you know about this?”

“Are you mad?” Warren put in. “Edwin would have told you at once. Which is why we didn’t tell him. We weren’t sure if it would work out, and we didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Edwin stepped next to her to slide his arm about her waist, feeling oddly protective. “So exactly how did you get it to work out?” he asked the two others.

“As it happens,” his brother-in-law said, “Durand was already becoming a problem for both the French and the English—making rash diplomatic decisions, squirreling away documents that were supposed to be destroyed, breaking agreements that had long been held. The attempt to blackmail you was the last straw. So Fulkham convinced his superiors that without my involvement, the man would never have been routed, and his attempts to ‘unveil’ a peer as a spy would have ended in disaster.”

“In other words,” Warren put in, “Niall got a royal pardon. And it didn’t hurt that after Prinny’s death, our new king was eager to issue a few royal pardons as part of his ascension to the throne. One of those went to Niall.”

“Without having to reveal any of your past, dear girl,” Niall added.

With a sniff, she patted her belly. “Clearly, I am not a ‘girl.’”

Niall laughed. “No, clearly not.” He sobered as his gaze met Edwin’s. “And if your new husband doesn’t take care of you, I shall challenge him to a duel.”

“Don’t worry,” Edwin said solemnly. “I would go to the ends of the earth for her.”

The serious statement brought the other two men up short. Then Niall glanced at Warren. “I can’t believe it, but you were right. He is in love.”

Clarissa slid her arm about Edwin’s waist. “Of course he is. I have that effect on men.”

The flippantly spoken words lightened the mood, as his wife had no doubt intended.

With a genial smile, Niall said, “I do hope we got here in time for dinner. I’m famished.”