Desiring Lady Caro (23 page)

He turned to face her. The green of her eyes made the fields look sallow. “Yes, it would have been too dangerous in ’96.”

Horatia nodded. “All of Northern Italy was unsafe then. We sailed to Greece, and eventually made our way up from Naples.”

Leaning against the rough stone of the parapet, he ran a finger along her jaw. Horatia sucked in a breath.

“Do you ever think,” he asked, “about going back to England?”

She raised her gaze to his briefly, then stared out over the landscape. “I might have gone back after George died, but my father already had another match in mind. Even though I was independent, he would have made life difficult.”

“I can see how the idea would not have been welcome.” Just the idea of her with another man made John’s muscles tense. The primitive beast lurking just below the surface pushed John to make Horatia his as soon as possible. He’d make sure no other man would ever possess her.

She gave a small smile. “I was very lucky in my marriage. Now I’ve been away from England for so long, returning would seem very strange. Then again, I do not know if I shall ever return to Venice. I may need to find a new home.”

He held his breath and said a short prayer. “If you had a reason, would you live in England?”

She lightly shrugged one shoulder. “If there was a need. Though first, I must ensure my nephew and goddaughter are well and happy.” Horatia glanced at John. “And wherever I make my home, my dependents must have a place as well.”

His arm circled her waist. “I do understand how important that is. I did my best to place my crew with other captains.”

She nodded and glanced around. “We should go back before it becomes too dark.”

The sun hung low in the sky, a bright ball before it sank. Pink and lavender clouds stretched out across the horizon.

“Yes.”

As they walked to the steps, Horatia asked, “Do you miss being on your ship?”

John steadied her over the rough ground as they descended. “At times I do. I miss the freedom of being able to haul anchor and change my harbor.” He placed his hand over hers. “But right now? No. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

She tucked her hand in his arm, leaning on him a little. “Later what will you do? Do you wish to go home?”

John glanced down at her, but all he could see was her hat. “I want to make a home.”

One with her, whether or not she could bear children. George had been correct. Horatia was the right woman for him, and John would convince her that he was the right man for her.

 

Horatia stepped into her chamber. John had been so evasive about what his future plans were, it caused a memory to stir in her mind. “Risher, how much time do I have before I must change for dinner?”

“Not long, my lady. Why?”

“After I go down, look for the letters from my sister and Lady Watford. I’ve a recollection of something nagging at me.”

“I think I know where they are,” Risher said. “They’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

“Thank you. What would I do without you?” Horatia untied her hat and placed it back in the box.

“With the good Lord’s help, my lady, you won’t have to worry about it for a long time.”

Horatia turned to her maid and gave a small smile. “I shall depend on that.”

Her dresser motioned for her to turn around. “Have you decided where we’re all going to live?”

Risher untied the laces of Horatia’s gown, and she stepped out of it. “Not yet. Bear with me for a while.”

After donning her wrapper, she splashed her face with water and dried it, then sat at the dressing table. “First there is a mystery I must figure out.”

“About the captain?”

“Indeed. He’s being very cagey when it comes to answering questions regarding his family. I think he is withholding information.”

Risher’s hands stilled.

“Nothing so bad, mind you. I feel as if he may not have told me everything about who he is.” Horatia met her maid’s gaze in the mirror. “Think of it as an adventure. Like the ones we used to have.”

Narrowing her eyes, Risher replied dryly, “If I remember correctly, my lady,
you
were the one having the adventures, and I was wringing my hands.”

Horatia raised a brow. “Are you going to tell me you did not have fun distracting the head groom when I took my father’s carriage?”

Risher’s face turned bright red. “That was a long, long time ago, my lady,” she said repressively. “And I did not have any joy at all trying to cover for you when you sneaked off to Vauxhall. Thankfully, I’ve never done anything like it since.”

“Yes, well, neither have I, really.” Horatia lowered her lashes and grinned. “It’s sad how staid we’ve become in our old age.”

“When you have us running off across the Continent?” her dresser asked in shocked tones. “There’s nothing abstemious about us at all.”

Horatia sobered. “That is an adventure I could have done without. I hate not knowing what is happening with Caro and Huntley. I hope di Venier did not find them and they haven’t killed each other.”

“Mayhap we’ll have a letter when we reach Nancy.”

Risher deftly twisted Horatia’s hair up into a knot, teasing curls out to dangle on her neck and over one shoulder.

“Do you think I should start wearing a cap?”

“I suppose most people would say you should,” her dresser said thoughtfully, then perked up. “But when did you ever care about that?”

“Never.” Horatia gave her head an emphatic nod. “And I hope I never shall. Have you been able to get any information from Mr. Smyth?”

“No, my lady. Although I was not given a set down, he made it very clear that he does not gossip about his employer.”

When Horatia opened the door, John was waiting in the corridor.

“You should have knocked.”

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “There was no need. You’re always punctual.”

While they dined in the courtyard terrace, she asked him about his childhood and why he left England.

“We younger sons,” he said, “must make our own way in the world. I was fortunate enough to be able to take advantage of the opportunities offered me. In other words”—he grinned ruefully—“I was not penniless.”

Horatia raised her glass of wine to the candlelight and twirled. “Neither am I.”

He stiffened as if she’d hit him. “Your wealth shall remain your own. I have no need of it.”

That was interesting. A sore spot with him. She wondered which heiress he was accused of trying to win.

“Did you make your fortune?” She studied him as he considered her question.

“Yes. I made more than enough to have a home and support a wife in some elegance.” He took a sip of wine. “Am I being evaluated, my lady?”

“Yes. Would you expect anything else?” Horatia refused to be embarrassed or cowed. If she was seriously considering him as a husband, she should ask these questions. After all, she had no one to inquire on her behalf.

His lids lowered a little as he regarded her. She kept her gaze on him, waiting for his response.

After a few moments, he smiled and the dimple appeared. “Not only would I expect nothing less, I need a
savvy
woman to accomplish what I want to do.”

He helped her rise then blew out the candles, leaving them in relative darkness. “Look at the stars.” He waited until she glanced up. “Do you know which ones are which?”

She bit her lip. “No.”

He stood behind her, his warmth seeping into her, causing her senses to come alive.

“Someday, I’d like to tell you about them.”

Horatia turned into him and tilted her head back. “Maybe someday you shall.”

John placed a brief kiss on her lips. “We’re not alone.”

She blinked. They’d rented the entire hotel, but the restaurant was open and there were other customers. “No.”
Unfortunately
.

When they reached her bedchamber door, John drew her close. “Now, my lady.” Bending his head, he slowly laid siege to her lips, nibbling and caressing. Heat, need, and desire rose in her again. Her toes even started to curl. Then he lifted his head. She sighed. It was the best kiss he’d given her so far. If he hadn’t stopped, well . . . Drat, she wanted him.

His voice was deep and soothing. “Shall I see you at breakfast?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

When she entered her chamber, her dresser had the letters on the desk. Horatia untied the ribbon holding her sister’s letters and looked through them as Risher took down Horatia’s hair. Finally, she found the one she’d remembered from Huntley’s mother.

Horatia pulled the bow loose from the second stack of letters and found Adele Watford’s letter dated around the same time.

Hmm, that is what he’s hiding
. John Whitton is the new Earl of Devon. But why would he not want her to know? Horatia tapped her chin. Was it only his family’s reputation he was trying to bury?

 

C
aro and Gervais’s small household left the comfort of Innsbruck as the sun crept up from the river valley. She agreed with him that they needed to leave early and get as close to the Fernpass as possible, but when he kissed her awake, she’d done her best to keep them in the warm bed.

“Caro, my sweet, we must break our fast and start out.”

She cracked an eye and stared at him. One rich brown lock fell over his forehead, making him utterly irresistible. Stirrings of her own arousal snaked up and she breathed in his musky scent as she pressed closer to him. Even to herself, her voice was low and sultry. “Make love to me.”

He raised a brow, but his lips tilted up at the corners. “We made love twice last night.” One large hand caressed her derrière and the place between her legs throbbed in earnest. He kissed her behind her ear. “You won’t have time to bathe.”

“I don’t care.” Keeping her gaze on his, Caro did what she’d never done before and reached down to purposely touch him. How hard and soft it was at the same time. Fascinating. Even the skin over his buttocks wasn’t this soft. His shaft grew and twitched. When Gervais sucked in a ragged breath, she smiled. For the first time she understood the power she had over him.

His eyes warmed with desire as he covered her, spreading her willing legs apart. “What has got into you?”

Caro tilted her hips toward him. “You. Will you take what I am offering, my lord?”

His deep voice caressed her. “Always, my lady.”

Gervais’s large body descended just enough to bring her breasts in contact with his chest. Kissing the spot where her neck and shoulder joined, he filled her so slowly that she pressed down on him with her feet, trying to make him go faster. When he was deep within her, she sighed. He withdrew and repeated his excruciatingly slow invasion.

“Gervais, please, you’re torturing me.” Faster, she needed him to go faster. Gripping his waist tighter, she tried to gain leverage and thrust her hips up to meet him.

He chuckled wickedly. “Patience. All things come to those who wait.”

The tension rose under his unhurried onslaught until her body convulsed hard and deep around him. Not the fire she was used to, but inexorable waves of pleasure washed over her as he thrust up so far, so deep, they were truly one body. Then the swells carried her out, and with one hard thrust, he sent her flying higher than ever before.

Happiness and fear warred within her. Caro could no longer deny she belonged to him like she never had before. Tears pricked her eyes. Somehow, she had to find a way to make him love her. She was positive she loved him, and she needed him to belong to her as well. If only they had the type of marriage that allowed each of them to speak freely.

Collapsing to one side, Huntley rolled Caro on top of his chest. He’d meant only to show her another way to make love, but instead he’d fallen more deeply under her spell than he’d thought possible. It was no bad thing to love one’s wife, just as long as she returned his affection. They had one week before they’d arrive in Ulm and then another ten days or so to Nancy. Somehow he needed to find a way to tie her to him permanently. It had been a while since she’d mentioned leaving him. Still, he couldn’t be certain she planned to stay.

Caro’s soft breathing tickled his ear. He held her just a few moments more. “Sweetheart, unless you wish to winter in Innsbruck, we must go.”

Pushing her locks back, she gazed down at him and sighed. “Very well.”

He opened the bed hangings. Tightening his grip on her, he rose from the bed, taking her with him. Someone had been in to stoke the fire, and the room was already warm. As he released her, he said, “I’ll send Nugent to you and see you at breakfast.”

His banyan lay over a chair. After donning it, he went through the door into a dressing room. Maufe had hot water ready.

Other than keeping her in bed, how was Huntley to convince her to love him? He mulled over and rejected ideas for keeping his wife from leaving. His biggest fear was that she’d decide to leave him after she had a child. As he’d done nothing to stop her from getting pregnant, that was a real concern. Why hadn’t he insisted she promise to remain before he’d taken her?
Damn
. He was far more adept at keeping a woman’s claws out of him than trying to encourage one to hang on.
Ow!
Blood welled from the cut on his face.

Maufe hurried forward with ajar. “Is anything wrong, my lord?”

Too much was wrong. “No, I was just preoccupied.” Huntley blotted the blood and applied the basilicum powder his valet handed him. “Thank you.”

Perhaps promising to give her what she wanted would be worth a try. Unless, of course, she wanted her freedom. Which was not going to occur. It couldn’t. She was his. Every bit of silken skin. Every lock of hair. He was determined to have all of her, body and soul. There must be a way to discover what she desired without asking her. Nugent might be willing to help. No, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t suborn Caro’s servants for his own needs.

He entered their parlor and caught his breath. Caro was a vision, dressed in a lemon-yellow twill carriage gown. It was made high on her neck and trimmed with lace. Going forward, he took her hand and kissed it. “You are beautiful, my lady.”

Her smile of delight was all he could have asked for. “Thank you, my lord. You look very handsome.”

He seated her, then joined her at the table. “I’d like to return here someday.”

Caro seemed focused on the roll she was buttering and didn’t look up. “As would I.”

“Perhaps we could . . .” Her gaze flew to his face. Was that fear lurking behind her eyes?
Hell
. He’d spoken too soon. Despite their love making, she wasn’t ready to commit to him. Now what was he to say? “We could get the recipe for the rolls. You seem to enjoy them.”

Her gaze dropped back down. “Yes. Perhaps.” She pulled the pot of jam toward her. “Maybe Elsa will know.”

“Yes.”

He quickly finished eating and said, “Please excuse me. I’ll check on the coaches.”

Caro gave him a small, tight smile. “I’ll not keep you waiting.”

Huntley strode out of the parlor, his hands curled into fists. He wanted to hit the wall or something—better yet, someone. They’d been going along so well together, and he’d made a muddle of it by speaking of their future before she was ready.

He attained the hotel’s coach yard and watched, without interest, the preparations for their departure. He’d not approach the subject with her again until she gave him a clear indication that she wished to speak of it. He scowled. She would not leave him. He couldn’t allow it.

“Is everything all right, my lord?”

He glanced up to see Collins, brows furrowed, staring at him. “Yes. Are we almost ready to be on our way?”

“Just waiting on her ladyship and Miss Nugent.” He turned his head. “Here they are now.”

Huntley walked to Caro and held out his arm. “Allow me.”

“Thank you.”

Drat all this formality. What he wanted to do was lift her in his arms.

Hot bricks were loaded in the boxes under the floor and the blankets he’d purchased placed on the seats in their coach.

“That should do us. Maufe, do you have her ladyship’s hot chocolate?”

“Already packed in the hamper, my lord.”

Smiling, Huntley helped Caro up the steps and then climbed in himself. He tucked the blankets around her and retreated to the opposite seat as the coach rolled forward. “Are you warm enough?”

She regarded him for several minutes as the coach made its way over the cobblestone streets. “I’d be warmer if you sat next to me.”

After her reaction at breakfast, her request surprised him. “If you are sure you won’t be too crowded.”

Caro patted the empty place next to her. “No, not at all.”

After he switched seats, her hand crept into his.

“Caro?”

“We do not have to speak. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sleep a little.”

“Let me take your bonnet.” If the small wool confection with a feather and netting could be called that. She pulled out the pin and handed it to him. Huntley carefully placed the hat on the opposite seat. “There, rest your head on my shoulder.”

Nodding, she did as he suggested. She sniffed a couple of times. He hoped she wasn’t sickening again. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine.”

She glanced out the window, the buildings she loved barely impinging on her consciousness as she blinked back the tears threatening to fall. All her hopes had dissolved, and the fear that Gervais would never love her pushed to the fore. He’d not wanted to discuss their future. Did that mean he didn’t want one for them? She needed his strong, steady presence next to her. Without him, nothing was right anymore. Gervais’s arm came around her, and he settled her more comfortably against him. Caro swallowed and sniffed to keep the tears at bay.

What a fix she was in. Years ago, she’d promised herself that she’d never fall in love again, and here she was. Nothing had changed. She was not any wiser now than she’d been at sixteen. Yet he was so kind and attentive to her. He always saw to her needs. Perhaps she could live with him even if he didn’t love her. If she did not become greedy, her life could be good. No decision had to be made now.

By the time Caro awoke, they were already climbing into the mountains. This was so much different than the road to the Brenner Pass. Here the hills rose up more sharply. Snow-topped crests towered over them. At least this leg of their journey was not so hurried. Since they decided not to change their horses, they’d make longer stops. She straightened. “Where are we?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Not far from Telfs, our first resting place. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.” She always slept well in his arms. Perhaps if she told him, it would make a difference, but there was always the chance he’d reject her for wanting more than he could give. He’d been quite popular with certain ladies in Venice, but they were all fleeting affairs that he’d ended. Was he not capable of deeper feelings? Or perhaps he showed them by taking care of her.

When she moved to stretch a little, his arm dropped and the warmth seeped out of her. “Would you like to dine in the common room again?” he asked.

In an attempt to encourage Gervais to hold her again, Caro snuggled into him. “I’d love it. The last time was so interesting and it is not something I’ll be able to do a lot.”

His arm went obediently around her shoulders, and she gave a small sigh. How long had they calculated it would take to reach Nancy? With any luck at all, she’d find a way to make him fall in love with her.

Not more than fifteen minutes later, they turned off the road into the yard of a busy inn. Gervais jumped down and waited while Caro stood in the door, gazing up. The inn was three stories. The ground floor was whitewashed, but the first and second floors were of timber, giving it a cozy feel. Greens and winter heather,
Erica carnea
, filled the window boxes. “Very pretty. I wonder what the inside looks like.”

Holding his arm out, he replied, “Shall we see?”

“Yes.” She placed her hand on his sleeve and stepped down.

He bent his head to hers and spoke softly. “If you don’t like it, tell me and I’ll arrange a private parlor.”

What she wanted when he spoke in that tone was a private room. “I am sure it will be fine. How long do we pause?”

“About an hour.”

Maufe was in the hall when they entered. “My lord, I did not know if you wanted a parlor or if her ladyship would like to visit the common room. It is busy but clean, and the patrons look respectable.”

She was able to glance into the room in question. Though the ceiling was not particularly high, the room was bright, with benches placed below the windows lining two walls. “The common room, if you please, Maufe.”

“Yes, my lady.”

A serving girl came with a large mug for Gervais and a smaller one filled with warm spiced wine for Caro. The other servants sat at a table not far away. Caro inclined her head at Maufe. “Thank you again, Maufe. You may go eat as well.”

Although no one stared, the other guests stole surreptitious glances at her and Gervais. After she removed her gloves, he took her hand and kissed it. Deep voices snickered and more than one feminine voice could be heard shushing them.

He grinned. “I think some of the men here will get an earful from their women.”

This was the perfect time to start telling him how much she loved him. “And so the women should. You are a perfect example of how a husband should behave.”

His head swung from his contemplation of the room to her. A blush rose in her cheeks.

“Is that the way you really feel?”

Lifting her chin, she managed a small grin. “Yes, of course. Else I would not have said it.”

He leaned so close she thought he’d kiss her, but he merely tucked a curl behind her ear. Even that small touch caused her heart to flutter. When he didn’t draw back, she stilled, waiting, as he searched her face. Then two pans were set on the table and the moment was over. Caro was sure he’d been about to say something to the purpose. Well . . .
drat
.

He picked up a fork and dug into a dish of sliced potatoes with fried eggs. “Shall we eat?”

“What is that?”

“It’s called
Gröstel
. I had it the last time. Very flavorful.” He pointed to the small skillet in front of her. “That is
Kasnocken
. Small dumplings with cheese and onions. It’s quite good. Try it first and then, if you wish, you may have some of the
Gröstel
.”

She picked up her fork and took a bite. The tang of fried onions contrasted nicely with the nuttiness of the cheese. The noodles were softer than Italian pasta, and the cheese clung to them, infusing the noodles with flavor. This was so good. After she’d finished more than half of hers, Caro glanced longingly over to his. “May I taste some of that now?”