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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
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In time she might be able to manage marital congress with equanimity. She might even hope for a little friendship and some respect. She would be the mother of the man's children, after all.
She studied Mr. Cox, who clearly didn't realize he was being observed. His eyes were on Lady Juliet, his expression tight with longing.
Did it matter if the man she married was deeply in love with another woman if that other woman had chosen someone else to wed? It wasn't as if Ellie had her heart to give either. As long as they were honest with each other so neither was living with false hope, it shouldn't make a difference.
It shouldn't, but somehow it did.
Ash had pretended to misplace a variety of objects, so the women finally decided the last word was “lost.” Jack was now trying once more to get them to guess the first word. He put his hands over his heart, looked at Ellie, and made the most ridiculous, besotted face she'd ever seen.
She'd been striving not to look at Ned, but she couldn't keep her gaze from sliding over to meet his. He must find Jack's expression terribly funny.
He didn't. He was glaring at his brother and then he glared at her. What in the world was the matter?
She looked back at Jack. He waggled his brows at Ned and then looked infatuated again.
“Love,” Ellie said. “Oh. It's Shakespeare's ‘Love's Labor's Lost,' isn't it?”
Jack staggered theatrically to a nearby chair and collapsed into it. “Yes. I thought you'd never guess it.”
“Well done, Miss Bowman.” Miss Wharton clapped her on the back and almost spilled the tea Ellie had been unwise enough to pick up again. “And well acted, Lord Jack—and all the gentlemen, of course. Shall we play again?”
“I think I've exhausted my meager acting talents, Miss Wharton,” Jack said.
“As have I.” Ash looked at his mother. “What do you have planned for us tomorrow?”
The duchess smiled. “Mrs. Dalton—and her prognosticating joints—believes the storm is subsiding, so I think we should be able to go skating and perhaps”—the duchess turned her attention to Ellie—“sledding.”
Lovely. Ellie felt Ned's eyes boring into the back of her head, but she refused to turn and look at him. “Splendid. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go upstairs.”
Chapter 9
Men like to be in control.
—Venus's Love Notes
 
 
“I think Humphrey should be compelled to play charades more often,” Drew said, loosening his cravat. He'd dispensed with his valet, just as Venus had told her maid she could retire for the night. “He is much more entertaining mute.”
“He is, isn't he, poor man.” Venus sat down at her dressing table and plucked the pins from her hair.
“You promise me he won't wed Ellie?” Drew was joking, of course, but she could hear a faint note of worry in his voice. “I'd hate not to see her regularly, but I have to consider my hearing—and my sanity.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and Venus sighed. He
did
have a most impressive chest and pair of shoulders.
She picked up her hairbrush. “It's impossible to promise anything when one ventures into the realm of the heart, but I think it highly unlikely that Mr. Humphrey and Ellie will make a match of it. She seems much more interested in Mr. Cox.”
Drew grunted and came over to take the brush from her. “At least Cox isn't such a thundering jaw-me-dead.” He pulled the bristles through her hair. She loved the feel of his hands and the long, firm strokes of the brush. “Though I formed the definite impression his interests lie elsewhere.”
“They do.” The muscles in Drew's arms and chest flexed as he moved. She could watch him forever. “He's madly in love with Lady Juliet. He asked for her hand a few months ago, but that stiff-rumped father of hers refused. Rumor is he gave Mr. Cox no hope.”
A familiar warmth spread low in her belly. Other parts of her were beginning to clamor for Drew's touch.
He snorted. “I'm not surprised. Extley's always been a hard-hearted, granite-headed beef-wit. But Lady Juliet is of age. If she wants Cox, she can just take him.” He gave her hair one last long brush. “It looks to me as if she means to marry Ned.” He frowned at Venus in the mirror. “Isn't that why you invited the girl?”
“No.”
Drew moved his hands to her shoulders, his thumbs massaging the tight spot at the base of her neck. She closed her eyes and dropped her head forward. Mmm. She felt as if she were melting—in more ways than one.
“I invited her so she could realize that she does want Mr. Cox—that she wants him far more than she wishes to please her father or even to live her fairytale notion of what her future should be.” She lifted her head to meet Drew's eyes. “Have you noticed the way she looks at him when he's looking at someone else? There is a definite current between them.”
Drew grunted. “Yes, but she doesn't seem to realize it—nor does our dunderheaded second son. What if Ned asks her to wed and she agrees?” He lifted his hands and stepped back. “It seems to me you are playing with fire.”
Venus shrugged and stood. “I only give people opportunities; whether they take them is out of my control.” Though she would admit to herself that she
was
worried. She wanted Ned to be happy, and she was almost certain he would not be happy with Lady Juliet. She sighed. “It is too bad arranged marriages went out of vogue.”
Drew pulled her into his arms. “And whom would you arrange for Ned?”
“You know.” Venus looped her hands around his neck. “The same woman you would.”
Drew rubbed his hands up and down her back, and she wanted to purr like Sir Reginald. “I wish Ned had married her the first time.”
“As do I.” Venus would only say that to Drew in the privacy of their room where she could be sure no one would overhear. “I loved Cicely—you know I welcomed her into the family just as you did—but I did wish Ned had chosen Ellie. I hope Cicely never guessed.”
“I'm sure she didn't.”
“She was sweet and she needed Ned, but Ellie will challenge him, if he has the sense to marry her. I think he does love her, he just doesn't realize it yet.”
Drew's nimble fingers loosened the fastenings on her dress. “Well at least she's not clinging to Ash this year.”
“I told her people had noticed.” Venus rested her cheek against his chest. She could hear the steady, comforting beat of his heart. “And I think she's different; I think she's decided she's going to marry even if she can't have Ned.”
Drew pulled back and frowned at her. “That doesn't sound good.”
“No. I wish I'd known beforehand, but I hope I've made her choices unappealing enough that she won't do something silly.”
“Hmph. Humphrey is certainly unappealing, but Cox is a different matter.”
“Yes, I know. But he does love Lady Juliet, and I think Ellie sees that.”
Drew laughed. “You seem to have filled this party with young people who have very little idea of their true desires.”
“Which is so true of most young people.” Venus smiled up at him. “But not us. I knew as soon as I met you that I wanted you.”
His lips slid into a grin. “I'm not sure that is completely true. I remember you being very angry with me.”
She shrugged. “That was only on the surface. Deep down in my heart I knew I loved you.” She sighed. “What have I done wrong, Drew? Why don't our sons have the same certainty about love?”
He kissed her forehead. “Perhaps the problem is their lustful male, er, minds keep them from recognizing what is in their hearts.”
“But you were male and lustful and you knew.”
“My dear duchess, your tense is incorrect. I
am
male and lustful.” He brushed her lips with his and then pushed her dress down so it puddled around her feet. “However, I had the benefit of falling in love with a brilliant matchmaker who reads hearts as easily as most people read
The Times
.”
“I
wish
I could read hearts so easily.” She stepped free of her dress. “Tell me this, since you're an expert in lust: how are we to help Ned recognize he loves Ellie?”
He kissed her jaw. “It might help if she didn't hide herself in those dreadful dresses. We lustful men love our ladies' minds and spirits, but we very much admire their bodies, too.” He nuzzled the sensitive place under her ear while his fingers worked the ties on her stays loose. “Perhaps Reggie should steal her entire wardrobe.”
She grinned. “That might be beyond even Reggie's skills, but I do believe you've given me an idea.”
“Splendid. Let me give you several other ideas.” He pushed off her stays and pulled her shift up and over her head; then he cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. Liquid desire shot through her.
She suddenly had a very clear idea of exactly how she wished to spend the next hour.
She pulled him over to the bed. “Ellie thinks Ash still loves Jess, by the way.”
Drew's brows lowered. “Well, I wish he would act on it then. I would like my heir to get an heir before I go to my reward.”
Venus ran her hands over his chest. “Go to your reward?! Nonsense. I'll not hear any talk of departing this earth.”
He lifted her onto the mattress. “Confess, Venus. You'd like a grandchild to spoil before you're too feeble to do a proper job of it.”
She laughed. “Yes, indeed, but I do not plan on being feeble for many years yet. Are you going into a decline soon?”
“I'll show you a decline.”
Drew shed his pantaloons almost as quickly as he had when he was twenty-one and vaulted onto the bed. What followed was a flurry of activity accompanied by laughing, giggling, moaning, and gasping, and then Venus was flat on her back, delightfully satisfied.
“I think there's still some life left in you, your grace,” she said.
“Of course there is.” Drew flopped down onto the mattress next to her and closed his eyes.
Venus turned to look at him—at the strong planes of his face, his long lashes, his clever mouth. She loved him in so many ways. “Thank you for looking out for Jack today.”
He kept his eyes closed. “I suspect his brothers and perhaps Ellie were looking out for him as well. After I passed him the paper heart I'd saved out, Ned slipped him one, too.”
“Did he? Excellent. I think it was very good Jack won the game outright rather than merely tying Miss Wharton, as then he'd probably have played the gentleman and let her choose her sleigh partner—which would surely have been him.”
“Hmm.”
Venus turned over to look up at the canopy. For some reason, she did not feel sleepy at all. “You know, I rather like Miss Wharton now. She may have some rough edges, but she is charming in her own way. She was so enthusiastic about both the treasure hunt and charades. She would make some man a fine wife.”
Drew frowned and cracked open an eye. “But not Jack.”
“No, not Jack.”
“Good. I agree Miss Wharton is an estimable young woman, but I could no more bear an extended visit with her than I could one with Humphrey.”
Venus nodded. “True, but she may settle down once she marries. I suspect some of her problem is nervous energy that a husband could manage very well.”
Drew's eyes lit with a markedly lascivious expression. “Ah, yes, nervous energy.”
“What? Oh!” She giggled. “I didn't mean
that
kind of nervous energy! You've already attended to that.”
“I have?” He turned to nuzzle the place under her ear, and then moved his lips slowly down her neck. “Are you sure?”
“Y-yes ... umm.” He whispered kisses up the side of her breast. Oh! All Drew needed to do was touch her, and her body ached for him, even now, after he'd already brought her to completion. His lips were so close to her aching peak. She wiggled.
“Feeling a bit more energy, then?”
“Ah, ah, y-yes.”
“Let me help you.” He finally latched onto her nipple, and after that, Venus didn't give another thought to her guests.
 
 
Ned stared down at the small tent in his coverlet just below his waist.
Damn.
It would be fine—wonderful, actually—if his, er, excitement had been caused by dreams of Lady Juliet, but it hadn't been.
He scowled at the offending protuberance, and it obligingly wilted.
Zeus, he felt more tired than when he'd gone to bed—which wasn't surprising as he'd tossed and turned through one disturbing dream after another. He'd waded through red-walled dungeons, swarms of cats, and writhing masses of serpents. His heart had nearly stopped at one point when he'd seen Ellie sitting on Jack's sledge at the top of a mountain. The snow was too deep and his feet too frozen for him to catch her, so he'd watched helpless as she'd barreled down the slope and into a lake.
But the last dream ...
Oh, bloody, bloody hell. He banged his head back against the bed's headboard, squeezing his eyes shut, but that didn't help, of course. The image was burned into his brain.
Ellie had been dressed in a silky red gown, dancing and flirting with Jack. Zounds, he still felt a hard knot of anger thinking about it. And then the music had changed to a waltz, and Jack had turned into Cox, and—Ned pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes—Ellie's gown had melted away so all he saw was her lovely cream-colored back and those damn red drawers on her swaying arse.
He jerked his hands away from his face and glared at his coverlet. His damn cock was disarranging it again.
He took a deep breath. No, this was good. It was encouraging. His body had been deeply asleep since Cicely's death, and now it was waking. He just wished Lady Juliet and not Ellie was the cause of the resurrection.
Well, it was resurrection nonetheless—that was what was important.
He threw off his covers and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. In truth, dreams didn't mean anything. He would put them out of his mind. He'd just use the chamber pot, clean up, and then—
What the hell was sticking out from under his bed? It looked like ... he stooped down. Yes, it was a white feather boa.
“Reggie!” He scanned his room. Where the hell—ah, of course. Reggie had made a comfortable nest in his rumpled coverlet.
The cat lifted his head and blinked at him.
“Reggie, if you've been stealing things again, I swear I'll take you by your tail and fling you out the window into the snow.” Of course he'd been stealing things—Ned didn't make a habit of collecting feather boas.
The blasted cat yawned. He knew all too well Ned wouldn't dare harm a single hair on his annoying, thieving body.
Ned plucked the boa off the floor, and then got down on his hands and knees to peer into the shadowy area under his bed.

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