Lord Deverill's Heir by Catherine Coulter (best books to read all time .TXT) 📗

and I will be invited to join them in taking tea,” the earl said. He rose slowly, his eyes on Arabella. “Ma’am,” he called out,

“we are powerfully thirsty. Have you a suggestion?”

“Yes,” she said, walking straight up to him. She went up on her tiptoes.

“Just wait until after we are wed. Then you will see the breadth of my suggestions.”

“Ma’am, you shock me,” he said, inordinately pleased.

“Not yet, sir.”

“Why does he call her ma’am and not Arabella?” the comte asked Lady Ann.

“They aren’t married yet,” Lady Ann said, and winked at the earl.

The earl was pleasantly surprised the next morning to find himself sharing breakfast with only Arabella. “Ah, you’re here. I hoped you would be. How are you this morning?”

“I slept well. I have had no visitations from the ghosts, thank God. Why did you hope I would be breakfasting early?” He sat down and allowed Crupper to serve him.

“I haven’t seen much of you since the comte has come to Evesham Abbey. I see that you are fit, you are smiling, and you look reasonably content.

It is good. Now I must hurry. It is pleasant to see you, sir.” She quickly grabbed a slice of hot toast, downed a quick gulp of coffee, and jumped up from her chair, her eyes on the door.

“Ma’am! There are toast crumbs on your chin. You have lost your last ounce of dignity—if you ever had any—and above all, you don’t want the comte to think you a messy eater.”

Arabella touched her fingers to her chin, rubbed away the crumbs, and said, “Thank you for telling me. Now, I must hurry. We do not wish to be back too late this afternoon.”

“And just where are you going today?” He sounded testy, and he hated it.

He drew a long steadying breath.

Arabella drew up and smiled at him with affection. Yes, he was certain it was affection or something close enough to it. “Why, I am taking Gervaise, and Elsbeth of course, to see the Roman ruins at Bury Saint Edmunds.”

“It didn’t occur to you to invite me?” Now he sounded like a whining ass.

She cocked her head at him. “But, sir, you have already visited the ruins. Do you not remember? You told me that when you arrived in the area, you toured the countryside before coming to Evesham Abbey.”

“Ma’am, we are to be married in two days’ time.” Good God, now he sounded like a wounded dog.

“Something I am not likely to forget,” she said. “if you would like to join us, sir, I’m certain Elsbeth and Gervaise wouldn’t mind. I just don’t want you to be bored.”

The earl rose from his chair, walked to his betrothed, and lightly placed his hands upon her shoulders. “It is just that I haven’t had you to myself at all these past days.” She felt his fingers lightly caressing her shoulders. She liked it. She wanted him to continue. She raised her head, hoping that perhaps he would feel like kissing her. He hadn’t, not since that night over a week before. She said, looking intently at his mouth, “You can have me as much as you wish. Would you like me to remain home today?”

“No.” He wanted to say yes. He wanted to take her down to the lily pond and make love to her. “No, go with the comte and Elsbeth. Just don’t forget me, ma’am.”

“Impossible.” She sighed and nestled her face against his shoulder, her arms moving around his back. “You feel so very nice, sir, all hard and strong and capable.” She started to say he felt just like her father had when she’d hugged him, but decided that perhaps that wouldn’t be just the thing to say to the man she was going to marry.

“So do you, ma’am, all soft and strong and capable. I particularly like the way your breasts feel against my chest.” There, he’d shocked her.

Well, she deserved it.

Instead of acting remotely shocked, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed the cleft in his chin. She pressed against him, then giggled. “I like the way your chest presses against my bosom.” He was immediately harder than the chair leg. He gently pushed her away.

“Go now or else I just might lay you atop the table, between the eggs and the kippers, and have my way with you.” Thank God that fewer than forty-eight hours remained before his lust would be magically proclaimed absolutely proper and he could rightfully claim his husbandly rights.

She hugged him again, kissed the cleft once again, then left the breakfast parlor.

The earl returned to his breakfast. He tried to concentrate on his rare sirloin instead of the exquisite pleasure he knew awaited him on their wedding night.

He planned a regimen designed to keep body and mind thoroughly occupied for the remainder of the day. He met with Blackwater in the morning, shared luncheon with Lady Ann and Dr. Branyon, whom, the earl observed, was now almost a daily visitor to Evesham Abbey, and made the rounds of several of his tenants throughout the afternoon. It was late in the day when he returned to the abbey and stabled his horse. Since there was still sufficient daylight, he decided to make a brief inspection of the farmyard. The cows had not yet been brought back for their evening milking, and only a few desultory chickens pecked lazily about their graveled pen. He neared the large two-story barn, and stopped for a moment to inhale the sweet smell of hay. To his surprise and delight, he saw Arabella come around the side of the barn, slowly pull open the front doors, and disappear inside.

He stood struggling with himself for several minutes, his body very much demanding to follow her, and his mind quickly reviewing all the pitfalls of such an action. “Oh, the devil,” he said to a goat who was eyeing his boot. He could see Arabella on her back, lying on a thick pile of hay. He could see himself over