His Reluctant Lady Read online

  “I can’t.”

  With a sigh, he shook his head. “I don’t understand you at all. Why deny yourself the pleasure if all you have to do is lose a silly bet?”

  “Probably for the same reason you gave up gambling for money. Love.”

  “I gave up gambling for money because her father threatened to kill me if I didn’t, though I also came to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth it since I can’t lose a game to save my life.”

  “But you did stop seeking pleasure in the arms of other ladies.”

  “There was no sacrifice on that end.” Before Christopher could respond, he said, “Lord Pennella was asking where you were earlier today.”

  “Really? Why?” Christopher accepted some cards from Ethan, relieved the conversation was no longer on Agatha.

  “I suppose he wanted to talk to you.”

  “I’d assume so since he asked about me.”

  Ethan looked at the cards in his hand then at his friend. “Any idea why he’d want to talk to you?”

  “If he thinks he’s going to take Agatha as a lover, I’ll have to tell him he’d have a better chance of warming himself with ice.”

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “I didn’t mean for it be. He shared a dance with her at his ball, and I didn’t like the way he was looking at her.”

  “You think his motives were intimate?”

  “I don’t know what his motives were, but he wanted her to think he harbored sexual interest in her. I think he wanted me to see him with her.”

  “You’re paranoid.”

  “Am I?”

  Christopher couldn’t come out and tell Ethan that she exposed the wager Pennella had with Davenport and that Pennella had confronted her on it. At the time, he thought there was nothing to worry about, that Pennella was being a sore loser, but if he made it a point to ask Ethan where he was… There was no telling what that meant.

  “I might not know everything there is to know about ladies,” Ethan began, “but I do know if they feel loved, they won’t want to take a lover.”

  “You know this because your past dalliances told you this?”

  Ethan sighed. “I’m trying to help you. You want Agatha to pursue you? Love her.”

  “I already do love her, and yes, I’ve made it a point of showing her that. This isn’t about whether or not she feels loved. It’s about her being so stubborn that she can’t admit she loves me, that she wants to share all of herself with me; heart, body, and soul.”

  “Hmm…”

  “Hmm...what?”

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”

  “I wouldn’t call myself a romantic.”

  “Really?” Ethan asked with an amused smile. “Then what would you call yourself?”

  “I call myself an idealist. I like the idea of being married to someone I want to be married to.”

  “Which is a love match. Which is romantic.”

  “Why be miserable when you can be happy?”

  “Another romantic notion. Most couples marry for convenience, not to be happy.”

  Christopher rolled his eyes. “That might work for some, but it won’t work for me. I don’t want to merely get by in life. I want to enjoy every moment of it.” Before his friend could respond, he said, “I know, I know. Romantic.”

  “If there’s any consolation, Catherine and I happen to love each other. Romantic is not only ideal but it makes life worth living.”

  “Fine. Then I admit it. I’m a romantic.” Smiling, Christopher turned his attention to the game.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Agatha pressed her quill to the paper and eagerly wrote the next sentence. Who knew Christopher’s advice would yield such benefits? She was in the middle of a paragraph when someone opened the door to the drawing room. Expecting it to be Christopher, she glanced at the door, wondering why he was back from White’s so soon. But it wasn’t Christopher.

  “Ethan?” she asked, recognizing the dark cloak that her friend wore every time he snuck into her townhouse.

  He closed the door and lowered the hood.

  “I told you I was going to send word when I was ready for you to give my story to the publisher,” she said. “Though I’m going to need more time than I originally thought. I came up with some new ideas that are going to make this one better than the others I’ve done.” She gestured to the decanter. “Help yourself.”

  Ethan bypassed the decanter and removed his cloak before he sat across from her. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

  She finished the next sentence then asked, “I can’t give this story to the publisher until it’s the best it can be.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. Why do you have to be so stubborn when it comes to Christopher?”

  She held her quill in mid-stroke and studied his face to make sure he wasn’t teasing her. “What does Christopher have to do with my story?”

  “Nothing. But I saw him today at White’s, and he was miserable.”

  She rolled her eyes and resumed writing. “So I talked my sister into accepting Lord Clement’s proposal? What’s so bad about that? Even if he is boring—something I can’t verify—it’s not the worst thing that can happen. He’ll be good to her. For sure, he’ll be better than Mister Landry.”

  “It’s not about that.”

  “Oh?” She finished another paragraph and started the next one.

  He leaned forward in his chair. “Will you listen to me?”

  “I am listening. I can write and listen to you at the same time.”

  With a sigh, he said, “Make love to your husband.”

  Her hand slipped, marking up the entire paper with an ugly line. Her gaze shot up to him. “I know we’re friends, but there are some things even you shouldn’t be able to say to me.”

  “Oh, let the whole propriety nonsense slide, Agatha. You and I both know you’re not as proper as you pretend to be.”

  “I don’t go around discussing things that happen in my love life.”

  “Or lack thereof,” he mumbled with a shake of his head.

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “I don’t see what business it is of yours.”

  “It’s my business when your husband mopes about it.”

  Her face grew warm. “He what?”

  “Does it really matter if he told me about the ridiculous bet you two made? The point is, he’s your husband, and he loves you. He’s nothing at all like Albert.”

  “I asked you not to say his name.” She hated thinking of her first husband, especially by his first name.

  “I said it to make a point.”

  “Which is?”

  “Which is to stop being stubborn and go to Christopher’s bed. What does it matter who wins or loses? He loves you. Isn’t that enough?”

  “You don’t understand the nature of our bet. It’s not something we’re doing out of spite or to gain an advantage. It’s done out of good humor.”

  “He’s not laughing.”

  She chuckled. “He’s fine. This whole bet was his idea, not mine. Did he bother to tell you that while you two were discussing my intimate life?”

  “Like Christopher and I talking about your intimate life is any different than Catherine telling you she draws naked images of me.”

  After a moment, she conceded. “All right. I suppose it’s similar, in a way.”

  “It’s similar, a lot.”

  “And so you feel at liberty to tell me to jump into my husband’s bed and tell him he’s won a bet that he established? And all for what? To save his pride?”

  “No. To save his sanity. You have no idea how agonizing it is for a gentleman to go without it once he gets used to it.”

  She hid the urge to offer a retort since she was in just as much discomfort, if not more so, than Christopher. But did she go off to moan to someone about it? No. She kept her frustrations to herself like any decent person would. “If he’s in that much agony, then he can come to my bed.”

 
; He groaned. “I had no idea you could be so heartless.”

  “And I had no idea you could be such a meddler.”

  “I think I’m beginning to understand why he’s putting himself through so much torment. If he goes to your bed, he’ll never hear the end of it.”

  With a slight intake of her breath, she pressed her hand to her chest. “Contrary to what you believe, I do have feelings.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt for you to show those feelings once in awhile. A gentleman wants to know his wife loves him and desires him. It doesn’t mean she’s weak. It means he’s safe giving his heart to her.” He rose to his feet and slipped back into the cloak. “I can see that any more attempts to reason with you will be in vain, so I’ll be on my way.”

  “Before you go…” she called out, standing up in case she needed to run over and stop him.

  He paused halfway to the door and turned to her. “What?”

  “Do you know if Christopher likes gothic horror?”

  “He enjoys it immensely. Why?”

  “I was just curious.” It was nice to know he had been telling her the truth about enjoying it. She’d hate to think he only said it in order to read her work, as a way to get closer to her.

  He shrugged and raised the hood of his cloak to conceal his face. “All right.”

  She watched as he left the drawing room. He was probably right about her needing to reveal her feelings, but she’d spent years learning to mask them. Revealing them wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. She couldn’t just come out and tell Christopher she wanted him, whether it was in or out of bed. It wasn’t as easy as Ethan made it sound. Sitting back in her chair, she picked up the quill, but it took ten minutes before she was able to continue writing.

  ***

  Agatha brushed her hair, her gaze going once more to the door connecting her bedchamber with Christopher’s. She sighed. Should she go to his bedchamber? She hadn’t ventured in there, and she doubted he’d be expecting her. Sure, he’d hope, but he probably didn’t plan on it. She weighed Ethan’s words. As much as she was loathe to admit it, he made some good points earlier that day. A gentleman who loved his wife would probably like it if she admitted that she wanted to be with him, and Christopher probably loved her. At least he cared much more for her than anyone else did. If there was anyone she could be vulnerable with, it was him.

  The clock down the hall chimed midnight and she slammed her brush on the vanity. She didn’t like this. Besides feeling vulnerable, she also didn’t like knowing she needed to make love with him. Grimacing, she shifted in her chair, aware of the ache between her legs. Blast it, it was all his fault! If he hadn’t been so good at making love, she’d be just fine. Before, she had no idea that it could feel good, and now that she did, it was difficult to go without it.

  She gripped the arms of her chair and released her breath. All she had to do was go to his bedchamber. Doing so would admit he was right, that she enjoyed being in bed with him. She kept telling herself it was perfectly acceptable for her to do it. Her pride wasn’t doing her any favors. All her pride did was cause her frustration. All right. She’d go to his bedchamber. In five minutes. She picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. Who knew pushing aside her pride could be so difficult?

  She glanced at the door again. Maybe she could go in there and ask him a question. If she made sure to let her robe slip enough to entice him, he’d probably make love to her. He made it no secret that he loved seeing her naked. He certainly couldn’t keep his hands off her. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d go into his room and ask a question and let her robe slip off her shoulders by mistake. Then he’d start touching her and one thing would lead to another, and before they’d know it, he’d be in bed with her. And better yet, she would know she did the right thing and went to his bedchamber first.

  Now what question would be worth going into a gentleman’s bedchamber for? She twirled the brush in her hands as she ran through a list of possible questions. Could she ask him where he’d take her tomorrow when they went out? No. That seemed more like a conversation to have in the morning. Maybe she could ask him about Perry’s upcoming wedding. No. Gentlemen wouldn’t concern themselves with such matters. She groaned and threw the brush on the vanity. She had to think of something!

  The doorknob turned and she straightened in her chair. Heart racing with excitement, she retrieved her brush and ran it through her hair, turning her gaze to the mirror. She frowned. He better not notice the way her cheeks were flushed with anticipation. She thought to put some powder on them, but Christopher peered into her room.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I come to talk,” he said with one of his charming smiles.

  Shrugging, she said, “I don’t mind. Please come in.” There. That was an open invitation. She’d done her part to let him know she wanted him in her bed. That wasn’t nearly as painful as she thought it’d be.

  “Well, at least you’re still up. I was afraid you were already asleep.”

  He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, an action which caused her body to tingle. Soon he’d take off his robe and he wouldn’t have anything under it. Then she’d get to see all of him, especially his arousal. She wanted nothing more than to feel him move inside her. She took a deep breath. What was wrong with her? There was more to being with him than enjoying his body!

  Christopher placed his hands on her shoulders and massaged them. “You’re tense, my dear.”

  “Oh, yes. I,” she scanned the room and saw her armoire, “have to plan out my clothes for tomorrow. It’s important I wear the right dresses.”

  He chuckled and kissed the side of her neck, just an inch below her ear. She closed her eyes and let out a grateful sigh. His lips felt absolutely wonderful on her skin. Soon they’d be on her breasts. And his hands were equally divine. The area between her legs ached for him to the point where it was bordering on pain.

  She rose to her feet and gestured to the bed. “I suppose we should retire for the night.” There. Another invitation. She was doing surprisingly well.

  “Actually, I only came here to talk.”

  She stared at him for a moment, not believing her ears. “Talk?”

  “Yes. Talk. Like you suggested the other day.”

  She watched him, too stunned to respond as he sat on her bed. He made no move to take off his robe, but she knew he had to be naked under it. Why would he come in here with the promise of making wild, passionate love to her if he wanted to talk? She’d never felt more deceived in her entire life.

  He patted the spot next to him. “Come on over. I promise not to grope you. I didn’t marry you just so I could have a bed partner. I also want a companion. Someone I can share life’s ups and downs with. So please, sit. The best thing about night is that there are no distractions. No one will disturb us.” He rubbed the space next to him, and for a moment, she envied the bed that was getting more attention than she was. “I’ll be good.”

  After a moment, she obeyed him, trying not to notice that she was already wet and ready for him. Oh, why couldn’t he just take her? Why did he have to choose tonight—of all nights—to talk? “Is that really why you’re here?” she asked. “To talk? Nothing else?”

  “Yes.” Just when she thought he was going to laugh and say he was joking, he added, “We’ll talk for a while then I’ll give you a chaste kiss and go back to my bedchamber.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I know you won’t thank me for being considerate. Knowing you are relieved is reward enough.” Before she could say anything, he continued, “I meant to be here sooner, but I had to go through the financial records. You wouldn’t believe what a headache it is to add up numbers and compare them to make sure the money went where it was supposed to go. Now I understand why you hire someone to do that for you. But the good news is, the steward is trustworthy.”

  “Oh, that is good news.” She placed her hand on his thigh and pressed her breast against his arm as she leaned clos
er to him. “Thank you for looking over the finances.”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I feel fine.” Actually, she felt more than fine. Being this close to him was making her feel downright wonderful. “Why? Do I look sick?” Her gaze lowered to the opening of his robe.

  “No, you don’t look sick. You look absolutely beautiful.”

  Surprised by his soft tone, her gaze met his. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat, deciding she would venture into an area she wasn’t at all comfortable with—discussing her feelings. “What I appreciate most about you is that you’re not one of those gentlemen who lords his authority over a lady’s head. You’re not threatened by a lady with a strong will.”

  “Not only am I not threatened by it, but I prefer it.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled. “Don’t you know that’s what I love most about you? You tell me exactly what you think of me. And,” he traced her lips, “I happen to find a lady who consistently challenges me to be very sensual. Docile ladies can be so boring.”

  He lowered his head and her heart raced in anticipation as his lips met hers. She didn’t know how he did it, but he got her blood boiling to the point where she forgot everything but the marital bed. She parted her lips, ready to deepen the kiss when he pulled away from her.

  “Agatha,” he began, not looking the least bit aroused, “I was wondering if you’d let me read the rest of your story when you’re done?”

  “My story?” She stared at him, not comprehending what he was saying.

  “Yes, the one you’re working on now.”

  “You want to talk about my story?” she dumbly asked, all too aware of how close her fingers were to his erection. He had an erection. She felt the way the robe strained against it.

  “I came here to talk. I told you that when I entered the room.”

  “Well, yes, but…” She glanced at her hand and the bulge next to it. So she wasn’t imagining things. He did have an erection, and that being the case, he was aroused. Why did he have to persist in this silly game? Couldn’t he just roll on top of her and satisfy them both? Preferably several times before morning came?