Page 53 of The Banished Bride
With a stifled cry, she tore her gaze away and stared out into the murky shadows. That was what the future held, she reminded herself. Nothing but a drab darkness, devoid of any sparkle or color. Most especially any hue remotely resembling sapphire blue.
To her relief, Alex seemed no more inclined to speak than she was. There was silence, save for the gentle rustle of the leaves and the sliding rhythm of their steps. Recovering some measure of composure, Aurora sought to savor the rest of the waltz. It was highly unlikely she would ever have a chance to repeat the experience, so it was best to concentrate on remembering every last detail—the feel of his gloved fingers entwined with hers, the subtle scent of bay rum and leather, the touch of?—
Her experience with balls and waltzes was, she knew, exceedingly limited, but even so, she knew enough to sense that his thighs were suddenly pressing much too close for propriety. A moment later, they were molded hard up against hers. As her bodice was crushed against the lapels of his coat, she opened her mouth to murmur some sort of protest.
His lips came down hard upon hers as the first rocket exploded in the sky. The thunderous bang drowned out hercry of passion and his answering groan. A shower of sparks lit up the sky, but the display was nothing in comparison to the pyrotechnics taking place between them. Set afire by the heat of his kisses, she cried out again, then melted into him.
“Sweeting,” he said in a hoarse murmur. “Ahhh, sweeting.” His mouth trailed down the swell of her breast and closed hungrily over the thin silk covering her nipple.
Aurora gave a muffled gasp at the burst of pleasure that shot through her insides. Lost to all reason, her fingers began to wreak havoc on the precise folds of his cravat as they fumbled with the fastenings of his shirtfront. One of them released, allowing her hand to slip inside the fine linen and splay against his bare chest.
“Oh, Alex,” she whispered, her palm brushing over the dark curls. This might be madness, she knew, but she could no more douse the flames of her need than she could stop the rain of sparks in the heavens above.
His head came up at the sound of his name. She said it again, and all at once they were locked in another passionate embrace, clinging to each other as if they could somehow grab hold of all the time they had missed together.
Eyes ablaze, Alex stopped his kisses long enough to carry her up against the nearest tree. His mouth then sought a more torrid intimacy as he straddled her legs and began to ruck her skirts up past her knees.
Aurora arched back, savoring the wickedly wonderful feeling of being wanted by a man. And not just by any man, but by Alex. If she was not grossly mistaken, what was about to happen was not so different from one of the illustrations in his well-traveled little book, and anticipation simmered up inside her. Spicy indeed! She kneaded the corded muscles of his shoulders, thinking she would not mind a steady diet of Indian fare. Surelyit was not so very wrong to hunger for his ambrosial kisses and whispered endearments.
He was, after all, still her lawfully wedded husband.
A bittersweet smile stole to her lips as she reached down to help him with the fastening of his breeches. Perhaps it was only for a short while longer, but in the meantime?—
A group of drunken young bucks stumbled out from around a tall privet hedge. A titter of laughter shattered her reverie, followed by more than a few ribald comments. It seemed like an age to her before their steps retreated back toward another path as they called out more lewd suggestions, ones that made clear exactly what sort of female they thought she was.
Aurora broke away with a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Indeed, what else could they think of a female who had been about to let a man toss her skirts in the bushes of a public venue? Her hands came up over her cheeks and she was dismayed to find they were burning hotter than a Madras curry. Good Lord, she hardly knew what to think of herself. Why, since meeting Alex, it was as if she had become an entirely different person from the steady, sensible Aurora Sprague she had been all her life.
And what was he thinking? Was it his opinion, too, that she was no better than a lightskirt? Is that what had whetted his appetite?
The very thought cut through her like a knife.
“I think it best if you take me home immediately, sir,” she said in a unsteady voice, turning her back as much to hide her confusion and embarrassment as to attempt to put some order to her disheveled clothing.
It was of some consolation to see that Alex appeared as shaken as she was. His hand raked through his tousled locked and his jaw betrayed a slight tremor as he made several attempts to speak. Finally, after a harried sigh and some fumbling toreknot his cravat and retrieve his stud, he merely gave a curt nod. “As you wish.”
Taking her hand, he guided her back to where the carriages waited, taking great care to skirt the more populous areas, where a crowd still lingered. He paused only long enough to give a terse order to coachman before helping her up into the darkened interior. As soon as the door was pulled closed, the whip snapped in the air, signaling the horses to spring forward.
Hell’s Teeth,he cursed. Had he really been behaved like a randy donkey and tried to mount his wife in the middle of Vauxhall Garden? She must truly think him an ass! No—she must think him a louse! Alex leaned his head back against the squabs, thankful that the interior lamps had been left unlit and the curtains were still drawn, so that his grimace of self-loathing was hidden from view.
So much for tactics and strategy, he thought glumly. Had he still been in the army, such a cow-handed blunder would have resulted in his carcass being left as pickings for the vultures. It did little to improve his frame of mind to think that once Miss Robertson got through with him, his fate might exactly the same.
The darkness, though it served as a welcome cloak to cover his own emotions, made it impossible to discern Aurora’s expression. She had settled in the opposite corner, as far away from him as possible. Not even the hem of her skirt brushed against him and her head was turned toward the door, despite the lack of a view.
May Lucifer be roasted.He could only imagine what she was thinking.
A moment of further reflection brought the slow realization that he couldn’t possibly imagine what she was thinking. Nor, he added with an inward wince, would he want to.
His own thoughts were bad enough.
Not only had he lost any chance of winning her regard—not to speak of her heart—but he had botched it in such an unforgivable manner. He fell to massaging his temples. A straw pallet could, he supposed, have been forgiven, considering the circumstances. But if he were going to attempt to seduce his own wife a second time, why the devil hadn’t he done it in the proximity of shimmering candlelight, crisp linen sheets and a well-padded bed?
It was what she deserved, to have her glorious limbs stretched out on the wide expanse of his carved tester bed.Their carved tester bed.At least it was for a little while longer.Damnation.He gave a silent oath as the realization washed over him that he didn’t have to seduce her. He could have simply carried her up to his own comfortable bedchamber.
It suddenly occurred to Alex that he was an idiot as well as a louse.
His thoughts were still running in such a depressing direction when they reached the cobbled streets of Mayfair. For a moment he nearly lost his nerve and considered abandoning his original plan. There were limits to how much of a fool a gentleman wished to appear in the course of a single night, even a gentleman in love. But then, with a wry purse of his lips, he decided there was really nothing to lose by going on with it. How could he sink any lower in her estimation? Besides, Miss Robertson would likely send someone to chop his shaking legs off at the knees if he lost his courage and made a cowardly retreat.
The carriage came to a halt. Alex threw open the door and helped Aurora down. She blinked several times, just as much from confusion as from the need to adjust her eyes to the flickering streetlights after the pitch black of the carriageinterior. For the first time since leaving Vauxhall Gardens, she spoke.
