Claiming His Estranged Viscountess (Rogues From War Book 2) Read online

  Chapter Three

  A week later, Abigail opened the door. From the dressing table, Aurelia saw that Mr Hughes had knocked.

  “Good morning, Lady Strafford.” He bowed. “Lord Strafford requires your presence in the study.”

  Back from dinner the other night, she a restless sleep awaited and confusing dreams. She worried how she would fare from now on since she could not rely on him to act responsibly if he took over the manor’s management. She stood up, nodding.

  But the skirmish presented one other unwelcome effect. So bodily close to each other, she registered his spicy scent, which affected her more than she would like to admit. Her body had reacted to his closeness, going up in temperature. His manly stance stirred something molten in her. She would have liked to ignore her reactions. They had been too blatant for that though. In the days that had followed, she tried to force herself to forget, to no avail.

  “I am coming down, Hughes. Thank you.” What did her wretched husband want now? Arming herself with patience, she made for the hallway.

  This last week drained away in a blur. She avoided him like the plague. In the few occasions they met, she ignored him ostensively. The tension though had gone sky high, her muscles aching from it. She tried to get a hold of herself while she strutted to the study.

  After a knock at the door, she entered the study to find her unwanted husband sitting by the desk. The same she had been using for these last two years to verify the estate’s affairs. The sight provoked a sense of thwarting that almost chocked her. One of the ledgers open in front of him. He took seconds to acknowledge her. Then he lifted his head and his dark eyes fixed on her, searing her.

  “It looks like you have made me a prosperous man.” The neutrality of his deep voice did not fool her.

  “I did not do it for you; I did it for every family involved with the estate.” She declared, elevating her chin and looking him down her unwelcome nose.

  He dressed only breeches and a white shirt, sleeves up, evidencing his strong arms. The shirt, buttoned on his neck, hinted at tanned skin soft over powerful muscles.

  His dark eyes strolled her from her tight chignon, down her woollen dress and apron, to her dull boots. Heat rose to her cheeks and her hands fisted on her both sides.

  “I will need an heir to leave this to,” standing up, he gestured around him, “Don’t you agree?” He boldly ignored her cross remark.

  A sense of foreboding exploded in her. An heir? “Since when are you worried about anything serious in life?” She realised she the question came aloud when his eyes flashed anger and he crossed his arms on his broad muscular chest.

  “The fact is that we should have had children a long time ago, but things were… confused.” He inclined his head rather ironically.

  “You mean you neglected every one of your duties in favour of whoring.” She stated acidly.

  “Exactly!” The curt word professed his acceptance of his… excesses, taking her by surprise.

  She looked at him more attentively now and realised he meant that heir topic seriously. Brow pleated, her jaw dropped, leaving her speechless for too many seconds.

  “You must have gone crazy!” No disguising a tone of desperation that entered the sentence.

  “I don’t think so, wife.” He surrounded the desk and came to stand mere inches from her. “Men in my position tend to aim for an heir and a spare, you know.”

  His proximity took away her ability to be reasonable. One way or the other. The whole process of having children with him got her positively on edge. Conflicting sensations assailed her, layers of contradictions impossible to put up with and more impossible to conciliate.

  “No.” Was the only word that came to her mind.

  “Yes.” Curt and final.

  Well, the whole process of having children with her begun to look very tempting from where he stood. He envisaged a beautiful woman, hot-blooded and delectable. From this close, her perfect face, her defiance and her firmness seemed deliciously more alluring. Verbena. His nostrils registered her scent, verbena and woman.

  The warmth of her body reached him, her eyes wide, her lips apart. The lips he remembered in his cold soldier cot; neither full, nor thin–elegant, appealing. And then her breasts, in his memory, as his hand had drifted down his torso on a tempestuous monsoon night.

  It was his hand now that lifted to her silky face, her breath sucked in harshly as her stare elevated to meet his. He remembered too little of their first, and only, night. He had come to her after the booze and the buzz. But he recalled her eagerness, her sultry eyes. He had replayed it countlessly in that cot, reproaching himself for letting it go to waste. Away from her, he started to value what he got and what he dissipated mindlessly.

  His light touch cast Aurelia in a forest of thorns. Her body heated instantly while repulse and pleasure broiled in her guts. When her stare lifted to his, she saw an unyielding intensity which had never been in it before now. With that, heat spread in the same instant she called herself all kinds of fool. She forgot to breath, to move – solely feelings and sensations permeated her. His thumb drifted to her lower lip. Thousands of lightning criss-crossed her. Her eyelashes weighed down slowly. She stanched impulses of sucking that finger and biting it; and then leaning on him, then thrashing him. The heat of him reached her with a spicy tang and male that threatened to ensnare her.

  No. Veto. Stop! She forced her mind to prevail and stepped back as she moved her face to get rid of his hand. Her feet retreated a couple steps more to stand behind the visitor’s chair, her trembling hands gripping its back until it hurt. She pushed herself to think clearly as she sucked in air several of times.

  “There will be no children.” She stated. No marriage bed for that matter.

  “There has to.” He replied evenly. “Who will inherit? An old distant cousin after my brother?” As his brother produced a baby daughter so far.

  “I don’t care!” She was almost losing control.

  “An heir and a spare, either you like it or not.” The ultimatum sent her blood boiling with rage.

  Their eyes combated for long seconds. His dark eyes never wavered as she shuddered, but kept her ground.

  She shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “If you want something, I want something too.” The cue she needed presented itself.

  “Very well.” He spread his hands, signalling his willingness to negotiate.

  “I want to manage the estate myself.”

  “Even when you are… with child?” He looked at her meaningfully.

  “Yes!” For the life of her, she would not let two years of hard work go to the sewage, or to the gambling hells.

  “Fine.” His legs drew apart, and he crossed his arms anew over his broad chest.

  “I will also go live in the hunter’s cottage.” She pushed further. “We can schedule… meetings.”

  “Negative!” His grave voice final. “Your place is here, and here you shall stay!”

  Frustration ripped her; she tamped it down forcefully. “After the children are born, I want you to go to the London town house on a permanent basis.”

  She did not want her children to grow up under his nefarious influence. By the time she produced an heir, an allowance would come to them. With her management of the estate, she and the children should be secure.

  He glared down at her for long moments, unmoving. “That can be arranged.”

  “Let us have it written, shall we?” She amended. “I will talk to the solicitor.”

  He just nodded. Silence stretched thin between them. That agreement would put her in tenterhooks for at least a year. She did not know if she would be able to hold on to her sanity after that time, but she would try. Hard. Without more, she gyrated and left the study in dull strides.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, his body sagged against the desk edge. She left no shade of doubt she wanted him out of her life. Out of their children’s life. He did not know if he could take it. To be far away from
a child of his; how hard would it be? He raked his midnight hair with his hand and sighed heavily. Never had his past mistakes felt so burdening! Regardless, he had just bought time. One year at least; he would have to struggle to change her mind. How he would accomplish it remained a mystery. He would take his chances though.

  He had met her in those country social occasions. Her father, the Baron of Middleton, possessed lands not far from his. At that time, he began to run late to get married and too keen on partying. His father had issued an ultimatum: marriage or cutting off his inheritance. There had been no doubt as to which to choose. The bride was unimportant. Since he had been turning thirty, a debutante fresh from the schoolroom held no appeal. More than that, he had not been unaware of Aurelia’s interest in him. He remembered her rosewood eyes following him in those social occasions.

  Fortunately, she had not been a debutante anymore. Thus, he proposed, married, consummated the marriage and continued merrily on his own way. He never gave a second thought to her feelings, or her welfare for that matter. Only when he lived away in India did he start considering his marriage and her. Then he realised the mistakes he made. The whole thing blew in his face now that he re-encountered her. Her mistrust in him, her unwillingness to live with him, the hardness with which she treated him all told about someone lost to him.

  He dragged himself out of his memories. She certainly would go about her tasks during the day. He? He had one or two errands to go on as well.

  It had been a hard working day and Aurelia thanked the fact she could take her mind off the morning’s confrontation with her wretched husband. She decided to have dinner in her chambers to avoid said husband and the tension weaved around him. She also needed to update ledgers which she did after dinner, at her secretary. This finished, she changed and lay down in bed. The fire on the fireplace almost extinguished by then.

  To avoid contemplating the agreement the whole day had been a hard task. But now, she would not escape it. It counted as a victory she would be able to hold the estate affairs in her hands; the price, on the other hand, did not look up to be sure. Not at all. The motions of having a child ignited her and caused dread at the same time. The… mechanic part of it induced chills and a candent washing over difficult to conciliate. She wished she could pretend he did not exist, or that he still travelled far away. She should be happy, though, to have gained two years blessedly distant from him, acquiring the lead here and regenerating her household and finances. Who knew it would not take long for her to get pregnant.

  A child. Boy or girl. To inherit what she built in these lands. It would come as a coronation of her efforts. The idea of being a mother attracted her, yes. She never dwelled of that. Her life had been busy lately, keeping her mind focused on surviving. Now that the subject emerged, though, she did not repudiate the idea in the least. If only she did not need to have any contact with the vagabond!

  She became dumbfounded with her reaction to his touch in the study. Her blood heated at his proximity and her skin tingled and came alive. It was outrageous! The man was nothing short of untrustworthy! It had been a long, long time she had been touched for the last time. Five years. By him. Once. Maybe, her needs begun to get the best of her. She was aware she had needs, of course. Accepting the attentions of that man, though, sounded unacceptable!

  That simple gesture stirred her, making unforgiving feelings surface. It was as if her body and her inner world entered in smashing collision. It stood beyond her comprehension. How was it going to be; tackle this heir and spare thing? Well, she would not muse on it now. Certainly days would pass until everything begun setting in motion. Apart from that, if the occurrence in the study was anything to go by, she would have to brace herself for what lay in store.

  The connecting door clicked open; a candlelight came into view. Startled, she sat up, bedsheet held to her chest. Conrad entered her room and closed the door behind him. She looked at the door, sure she had kept it locked.

  He followed her gaze. “I instructed the footmen to remove the lock.” His stance casual.

  “Bastard!” Was the only thing she could blurt out, her eyes furious on him.

  One side of his lips moved in a half smirk. “I have been called worse.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We have come to an agreement, remember?” He walked to her side and placed the candle on her bedside table.

  He dressed a kind of tunic and trousers, which made him taller. The silky fabric hugged his shoulders and chest, highlighting his toned muscles. She swallowed drily, the view of him wrenchingly disturbing.

  “We haven’t signed it yet.” She pulled the counterpane to her neck.

  “It will be done tomorrow. Don’t worry.” He sat on the mattress. “We have no time to waste.”

  “More than you did already?” Again, contempt got the best of her. “A few days more wouldn’t make any difference.”

  He did not bother to answer her as he extended his hand and started undoing her tress. She held it to prevent him from doing it. He stared at her, his dark eyes, darker, his midnight hair shining bluish in the candlelight. He lowered his head and kissed her hand on her hair, open mouthed, moving his lips over it, tingling her skin. Her heart leapt, her breath faltering. His spicy scent reached her nostrils, tantalising. She tore her hand from under his warm lips. Which made him go back to undoing her tress.

  Things did appear tragic. She wished he changed his mind and left her alone. Wished she did not become so hot. Wished he got it over with quickly, like the first, and only, time. All at once. Conflicting emotions surfaced, none of them taking forefront.

  Her hair spread over the pillow, the candlelight lending reddish streaks to it. What did her hair have to do with...with the whole thing? She wondered, eyes restless.

  “You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” He murmured in a deep voice. “Silky and glossy.” He took the strands and lifted it to his nose, closing his eyes in appreciation, as he smelled it. Her breath caught in her dry throat. Slowly, he rose his candent eyes to hers.

  God, he was seducing her! What on deranged earth was she supposed to do? This had to be a technical procedure, like the cattle in the estate! Her eyes widened on him, her whole body tensing, blocking the sensations. Or making a lousy attempt to.

  He diminished the distance between them as he lowered his head over hers. She gulped air, her hands clutching the counterpane as it served as an armour. His lips touched her cheek. Her lashes made to weigh down. She avoided it, pressed her arms against her bosom. His mouth roved in the direction of her ear. She dove into deep water now, her heart churning with pain, her body burning with his touch. She closed her eyes tight; it was as if a blade chopped her in two.

  “Relax.” He murmured in his deep hoarse voice. “I want you to enjoy this.”

  Enjoy? Her rosewood eyes popped open at maximum width. What might there be to enjoy? They planned a child for heaven’s sake! But her clashing thoughts severed from her when his mouth moved to hers. She clenched her lips; it did not deter him though. He caressed her tight seem with his lips, darted his tongue to taste her. Her eyes fell closed, her heart thundered. He left her mouth. Back to her ear to nibble it. Oh! She sighed mindless.

  Low blow. In a flash, he took advantage of her lips apart and invaded her mouth, assailing her with a heat wave of sensations. A groan surfaced in her throat as her body sagged and her lips widened at his command. His tongue did unthinkable things to hers, her head spinning, their tongues rolling over one another. How could he undo her with one touch? How was it possible this passion to surface after this long time? How did she melt so pathetically with this man? Without her permission, her hands grabbed his strong upper arms, as if they feared she would drown. And she would. God help her, she would!

  Her bedcovers vanished, the laces of her sober nightdress sliding open. He deepened the kiss, and she cooperated with irritating willingness. Her body arched seeking his warmth, losing control bit by terrible bit.
He never let up the invasion of her lips, kissing her further with more and more enticement. It lengthened, spread, threw open, until they devoured each other in earnest.

  It might not go on forever. They must come up for air after what seemed years! He lifted his torso from hers, his dark eyes fixed on her, he took out his tunic in a fluid movement and renewed his attack on her senses. His muscular chest peppered with dark smooth hair filled her view. His stubble-experienced mouth came to her neck, kissing, nipping, suckling on her hopping vein until her hands plunged in his midnight hair. He descended grazing her neck, making way through her open nightdress. When he reached her breast, she dejectedly lost her mind.

  Bloody hell! He had not planned it this way. This fire of hers ignited him to desperation. He had wanted to take it slow. Seduce her, build up her confidence, treat her delicately. But this…? Where had this she-wolf hid all this time? This passionate woman had lived under his roof for five years and he never realised it, fool that he was!

  Never leaving her delectable breasts, he rolled her coarse nightdress up, his hand accompanying it, caressing her thigh, to find her hot, wet and ready. Goddam it! He became so hard, he thought he would shame himself. He tried to slow down a little. Taking his time, he encouraged her to open up for him, as he massaged her swollen button delicately. The scent of her, woman and verbena, involved him. A whimper escaped her elegant lips. He carried on, intent on giving her as much pleasure as he could. She contorted under him, driving him to the brink of madness. When he perceived she was ready, he took out his pyjamas trousers and prepared to glimpse paradise.