Читать книгу Her Husband’s Lover - Madelynne Ellis, Madelynne Ellis - Страница 8

‘Emma, aren’t you going to dress?’

Emma glanced up from the sampler that lay upon her lap. The embroidery needle she’d held lay dangling over her knee by a thread. Amelia stood at the drawing-room door, her hands pressed together before her as if in prayer, a pose that was probably intended to mask the ridiculously low and inappropriate neckline of her dress. Only a tiny scrap of lace maintained her modesty. A piece would have to be sewn into it before she was allowed to wear it in public.

‘The dinner gong went five minutes ago, yet you’re still here,’ the minx said, before Emma had a chance to scold. ‘Oh, heavens, Emma! Are you so determined to wreck my chances of finding a husband? Isn’t that the frock you went out in this morning? There are mud stains all around the hem. You can’t wear that to dine.’

Dinner. Hours had passed. Yet she hadn’t seen or heard anyone come in. After Darleston had … after he’d touched her, her heart had raced so fast she thought it would jump right out of her chest. All of her breath had been stolen. She’d had to get away from him as fast as possible, but she hadn’t run very far. The mire of brambles made it difficult and her legs wouldn’t carry her. Her feet kept slipping. One briar whipped back upon her and left her arm beaded with blood. She cried out but he hadn’t heard.

Perhaps it was best that he hadn’t heard. He’d been going to kiss her. Hell knows what he’d have done if he’d seen her hurt.

No man had ever kissed her upon the lips. Darleston had looked at her and seen into her soul. He’d read the desire there, had been about to return it. If he hadn’t raised his hand first, he might even have captured her. Her heart sped a little at the thought. A knot of tension built in her womb. How wonderful that he recognised her desire, but he had to understand that she wasn’t like the society women he knew. She couldn’t be with him. She couldn’t love him in that way. Any passion would remain unrequited. Regardless of the desire she felt, she would never act upon it.

And yet she’d still about-turned and stumbled back to where she’d left him. There’d been no sense in her head, just as none resided there now. The sound of Lyle’s voice had spurred her forward. She’d known why he was there even before she spied the men together. She’d given Lyle permission. She had only herself to blame. But seeing them together like that … The details of what Lyle practised had never before troubled her thoughts.

Now they were her only thoughts.

‘Emma?’ Amelia’s shrill cry smashed the recollection apart. ‘Are you not well? You look ill. See, you’ve gone crimson and your skin is all blotched.’

Emma turned her head, but she could not see herself.

‘Please don’t be sick.’ Amelia wrung her hands. ‘Father won’t hear of me being amongst this company without you around as chaperone. He’ll send me to Aunt Maude’s.’

Shakily, Emma waved away the concern. ‘I’m fine. Just a little faint. Too much fresh air and not enough to eat. I’ll be right again in a moment.’ She staggered past Amelia and into the hallway.

‘Should I come up with you and help you dress?’ Her sibling shadowed her flight into the hall so closely that her presence added to Emma’s nervousness. Amelia craved affection. Like a lapdog she was always underfoot. She saw any sign of weakness as the perfect opportunity to snuggle up close. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t want to return her sister’s love, only that she couldn’t bear to expose herself in such a way again.

‘No, you go in to eat. I’ll be fine once I’m rested. Could you please apologise to Father for me? Tell him I have a headache. And ask if Mrs Dobs would be so kind as to send up a tray.’

‘Should I have her send up a tincture of something too?’

‘No, quiet will be remedy enough.’ She gave her sister a weak smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine again tomorrow. I won’t let Father send you to Aunt Maude.’ Then she hurried up the stairs before Amelia could follow. More than her head, her heart ached. And when she mulled over what she’d experienced her womb clenched tight too, as if her body intended to wring every ounce of feeling from the earlier encounter.

All afternoon she’d sat gazing into space waiting for either Lyle or Darleston to approach her. She hadn’t given dinner a thought. How foolish was she? Lord Darleston would be next to her at dinner, with Lyle directly opposite. There’d be no avoiding either of them. Oh, no. She couldn’t face them together like that, not in public where everyone would witness her embarrassment.

Hiding in their room wasn’t ideal, but at least only Lyle would seek her there.

* * *

Dinner calmed her a little, though she didn’t eat a lot. Lyle arrived while she was stirring a spoon around in the mashed-up remains of a lemon tart. He paused in the doorway a moment before sealing them within and striding forward.

‘Why are you hiding? Amelia says you have a sore head.’ He perched upon the foot of the bed, so that the tray of food formed a barrier between them.

She knew they’d seen her, so there was no supposing he didn’t understand her reasons.

‘All right, if you won’t say, then answer me this. Why did you come back, Emma? After he’d frightened you, why return? Did you change your mind about something?’

‘No.’

So he knew Darleston had touched her. She hadn’t considered he might be cross with her for that.

‘Emma.’ Lyle stretched a hand towards her, but stopped short of actual contact. ‘Can we speak plainly for once?’

‘I thought we always did.’ Her words echoed around the room, shrill and defensive.

Lyle shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean you to see that. We should have been more circumspect. I want to apologise if my behaviour has offended or embarrassed you. I’m sure Darleston would like to say the same. However, I have to know why you watched. Why did you stay when you saw what we were about? You could have left.’

‘I – I don’t know.’ Her cheeks prickled with the heat flooding them. Her reflection in the silver teapot bore the hue of a raspberry. Aghast with embarrassment she curled her knuckles against her mouth. ‘I was intrigued, I suppose. I’ve never seen … I’ve never spied on you before. Well, only once.’ And that hadn’t been anywhere near so enlightening. ‘I swear it. And I won’t do so again.’

Lyle’s fingers curled into the eiderdown. ‘I didn’t expect you to make it a habit. Not that I should really mind if you did wish to take pleasure in that way, as long as you warned me of your intention beforehand.’

What in God’s name was he saying? That he would invite her to watch them fornicate?

‘I don’t think … I’m not sure that’s absolutely necessary.’ The fire in her cheeks spread to her ears and her nose.

‘Why is that?’ Lyle pressed. He shifted position so that he sat upon his haunches. ‘Is it because it’s not me you want to watch? It’s Robert, isn’t it? You’re attracted to him.’

Robert she presumed to be Lord Darleston. Robert, she repeated to herself, committing his Christian name to memory. ‘I’m most certainly not.’ She shook her head desperately.

Lyle crowded her, shuffling up close to the wall of crockery between them. ‘You’re the most godawful liar I’ve ever met. Tell the truth, Emma. Do you want to make love to him?’

‘Of course not.’ She shoved aside the tea tray and leapt out of bed. Her limbs and arms were trembling. It took all her coordination and determination to cross to the fireplace. Lyle followed. He loomed over her. Emma risked a peep to find him dusting sugar from his clothing. The remains of dinner lay strewn across the bed. She reached out to ring the bell for a maid, but Lyle blocked the way.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so roused.’

‘I don’t want him like that,’ she insisted, still seeking a distraction from the conversation. The whole bed would have to be stripped and remade before either of them slept. ‘You know my habits. I don’t care to be touched by anyone.’

The harshness of her declaration made it sound convincing, but deep down she wasn’t so sure of her honesty. Omission still constituted lying and a small white lie lay embedded in her words. She didn’t want to be touched, but there was no denying that she wanted to run her palms across Darleston’s form.

Lyle frowned at her, his brown eyes riddled with mysteries. ‘He claims you were staring at his arse. And I saw you staring at his cock. Do you deny that?’

She blustered a moment, her mouth working but no sense coming out. ‘Well – I’ve never seen one before and I could hardly stare at yours, considering where it was embedded,’ she eventually blurted.

Oh, dear heavens, that was quite the most foolish and ridiculous thing to say.

Lyle’s jaw dropped. For what felt like eternity, he stared at her, shock engraved in every line of his face. Then, abruptly, he began to laugh. ‘Emma!’ A deep rolling laugh, which tugged at her lips and made her grin too. He didn’t seem so angry either, once their merriment had died down; instead he seemed intrigued.

‘Well, I think that’s outrageous. That you’ve never seen one, I mean. We ought to rectify that. Can’t have a married woman not knowing what’s what. I know you’d probably rather I brought in Robert, but –’

‘No, no, don’t!’ She couldn’t have him here making things even more difficult. Darleston didn’t understand the rules. And even if he did, she wasn’t certain he’d obey them. She supposed being an Earl’s son made him rather a law unto himself.

‘– but I don’t mind obliging you. Really, Emma, you had only to ask if you were curious.’ Lyle artfully slipped the buttons of his frontfall, drawing her attention fully to him. ‘You can’t have seen much detail out in the woods.’

She’d seen detail enough.

‘Robert’s is very nice, of course. I think you’ll find him a little thicker than I. Although I’m longer.’

She had no response to that. None at all. Flabbergasted, Emma watched him step out of his breeches and raise his shirt-tails. Confusion momentarily wrinkled her brow, for what she saw was not at all like what she’d seen earlier. Lyle’s prick lay curled against his body as if slumbering, while Darleston’s member had stood erect. Yet even as she stood trying to figure it out, change occurred before her eyes. Lyle became stiffer, longer. He woke up and stood proud. The tip peeped out from beneath a hood, rosy and glossy. A slit like a tiny eye was exposed. From it leaked a single shiny tear.

‘How much more do you want to see?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. What is there to see?’ She clasped her hands over her mouth.

‘I can pleasure myself, as if I were inside him. I can bring myself to climax. Women can too if they touch themselves in much the same way. Not all touch is bad, Emma.’

She’d reserve judgement on that. However she didn’t wish to get into a debate at present. Fascination had taken hold. It was nigh impossible not to focus on the slow, steady rhythm of Lyle’s hand rubbing back and forth, up and down the length of his shaft. What a delightful picture he made. It made her feel twitchy inside, hot and irritable but in a pleasant sort of way.

Actually, in much the same way Darleston’s touch had made her feel.

Well, why should it be such a great thing to admit to desire? She wasn’t immune to physical attraction, merely unnerved and quite unused to the sensations of it. She had never claimed not to feel; she only wished not to be poked and prodded.

Lyle caught her gaze. ‘Perhaps you’d allow me to get more comfortable.’

Emma gave him a mute nod. She watched him strip naked, desperately relieved that the door was locked.

Two years of life together and prior to this moment she had no clear idea of what he looked like. Her husband was a beautiful man. Naturally she was aware of his shape and how well he fitted into his clothes. But clothes masked plenty of sins, as she knew only too well.

Golden hairs flecked Lyle’s chest and the pits of his arms and formed a thick thatch around his loins. His legs were hairy too. She’d never realised that. So too were his forearms. His nipples were two pale-pink pennies, only a shade or two darker than his skin. Smooth muscle gave him a graceful shape. Why, he was even more beautiful naked, especially as he was right now, standing proud.

Lyle left the fireside. Emma followed his movement to the bed, gaze locked upon the firm globes of his rear as he set aside the crockery. He ripped the despoiled eiderdown from the bed. ‘Sit here. Come close. I promise I won’t touch you.’ He beckoned her to a spot just shy of his left hip. Emma sat primly upright, her hands clasped fast together. ‘How does it make you feel to watch me do this?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Good, bad, indifferent?’

‘Hot.’ Another blush streaked across her face. No similar sign of embarrassment coloured Lyle’s cheeks. He seemed supremely relaxed. The only hot and flustered part of him appeared to be his prick. The tip reminded her of the very ripest of cherries, with its dark-red hue and sensual curves. She noted that he swept his thumb over the eye-like slit every time he brought his palm downwards.

‘Hot is good,’ he mumbled.

‘How does it make you feel?’

He laughed. ‘It makes me feel fantastic.’

‘Are you picturing him, while you do that?’

‘Robert?’ Lyle shook his head. ‘Only in a roundabout way. I was thinking of you watching us and how very much I’d like to see you taking your pleasure. Everyone deserves some, you realise.’

She swallowed slowly, fearing what he might ask, how he might demand that she undress and lie naked beside him, and how he might beg to touch her skin. Enter her.

‘I’m not asking you for anything,’ he reassured her, perhaps having noticed her shiver. ‘Just tell me what would make you happy and I’ll give you it. Anything.’

She knew in essence what he meant – that he was offering her the sort of satisfaction other people craved – but she could find no joy in the notion of being caressed. However, watching the steady stroke of his palm back and forth in that rhythmic motion over his cock had taught her something. There was a tingling sort of excitement to be had from seeing someone else touch themselves. Not that she wanted to spend her days watching Lyle alone. No, she’d much rather watch her husband with his lover. The excitement she’d felt watching them fuck was ten times the fluttering, giddy nervousness she felt now.

Would Lyle understand?

What would he think?

Perhaps her greatest fear, far beyond that of being touched, was being thought mad. If she were judged so, every freedom she possessed would be stripped way.

‘Say it, whatever it is.’

‘I want to watch you with him again.’ Shock at her own words engulfed her body like a cold douche. Emma’s heartrate sped as she trembled. Afraid of Lyle’s reaction, she averted her gaze.

‘Go on,’ he prompted.

Emma immediately raised her head. Lyle wasn’t cross – he remained relaxed, if you could describe the pumping of his fist as such – but he was intrigued.

‘What is it you wish to see us doing?’

Emma shook her head, quite speechless. None of this made any sense. The whole conversation ought to have been a dream. Normal couples didn’t converse like this. At least she was fairly certain they didn’t. But then, typical husbands didn’t fornicate with other men, and wives accepted whatever affection their husbands chose to bestow rather than bristling at the mere notion of it.

‘You really ought to tell me. I can’t bear the suspense. I’m conjuring all sorts of images, most of them lewd.’

Maybe it was his smile and the way it ran into the depths of his warm brown eyes, maybe it was the peculiarity of the situation, but the admission spilled from her lips. ‘I want to see you do things the other way around, with him in …’

Lyle gave another chuckle. ‘Emma Langley, I don’t think I know you at all. I can’t believe you’ve just said you wish to see me fucked in the arse by another man. What are you thinking?’

‘I’m sorry. I should have kept quiet.’

‘No. No, you should not have kept quiet. You should speak some more. You ought to tell me why you want to watch things that way. Is it so that you might imagine yourself in my place?’

‘No!’ she squeaked, alarmed by how her insides seemed to heat at the notion. ‘The pair of you looked good together.’

Lyle shook his head, dismissing the answer as the blind it was. ‘I don’t think that’s it at all.’ He didn’t say what he thought her true reasoning was, for he reached climax at that moment. Emma watched his seed spurt from the tip of his cock. It fell in silvery streaks upon his belly and coated his fingers. For several long moments he held himself still and gulped down uneven breaths. Eventually he opened his eyes and found a handkerchief.

‘I believe you are monstrously wicked, Emma Langley, and if I hadn’t already married you, I would do so again.’ He reached out, but stopped short of embracing her. ‘I’ll speak to Darleston and arrange a time and a place when we can indulge you. I’m sure he’ll oblige. He’s quite sweet on you too.’

While she floundered, wondering what in heavens she was supposed to make of that remark, Lyle cleaned himself up and redressed.

‘Are you sure he won’t think it strange?’

Darleston had not seemed overly perturbed at being watched in the amphitheatre, but that had been accidental. Arranging a situation where she would be their official audience while they did that was different altogether.

‘I think he’ll see you as a very accommodating hostess. Not everyone is quite so gracious about sharing their husband. And Emma – I don’t mind that you desire him, just as long as you don’t steal him away. So you needn’t feel guilty in that regard. Everyone ought to have someone who makes them feel alive, but I am curious. What is it about him?’

Truthfully, she answered: ‘I don’t know.’