Counterfeit Countess (9 page)

The dowager shuddered. “In a way I cannot think either of us would wish.”

“Oh I don’t know,” John said, “It could serve our purpose.” He exchanged a smile with Faith she couldn’t resist sharing. So wicked, it reminded her of last night. But then her mind hadn’t been far from that experience for most of the day, despite the rapidity of events.

“I placed orders with Cerisot for full mourning and half mourning.”

“Ah, then you may tell her that her services aren’t needed once those orders are placed.”

“I don’t think so,” said Faith. “I intend to give her a fair trial.”

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Her ladyship snorted. “I hardly believe she’ll starve for want of our business, and why should we worry ourselves with that in any case?”

Faith didn’t answer.

When John got to his feet, she did too. “I think I’ll go upstairs and rest.” She didn’t miss the gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll escort you.”

Just outside the room, she leaned towards him. “Is that what they’re calling it? Escorting?”

“Wicked woman,” he said without heat, but with a great deal of feeling.

The earl and countess had the magnificent suite on the second floor. Two bedrooms, a sitting room and associated powder rooms, each of a size that would take up two of her rooms in her house in Red Lion Square. The furnishings were formal, especially the Countess’s. Faith examined the tester bed, with columns carved in a severe classical style, the dull green upholstery, the daybed that didn’t appear comfortable at all.

“I think we’ll redecorate,” he said from behind her. “The earl’s bedroom is dark. Very old-fashioned. Do you agree?”

“Yes,” she said with relief and turned to face him. He stood closer than she’d thought, and he caught her upper arms as she threatened to topple forward. With a huge upswelling of relief, she closed her eyes and stretched up for his kiss. He didn’t disappoint, but gave her the embrace she needed. Enclosing her in his arms, he pressed his lips against hers and she returned it, opened her mouth so he could slide his tongue inside and caress her more intimately.

His hands worked the fastenings at the back of her gown, and the fabric fell to her feet. When he broke the kiss, she glanced down.

“More green than black, but that gown has accompanied me a long way. I’ll be sorry to see the end of it.”

“You could keep it.”

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“I think I will.” She might need it.

He stroked her back, turning her attention back to his face.

Much more pleasant than her old gown. “You’ll have new ones.”

He kissed her forehead. “Which reminds me. We are now free to marry, if we wish.” He watched her, eyes coolly perceptive. What did he expect to see?

She jerked away from him in an action that made her stumble over her gown. “You’re serious?”

“Indeed. I visited Doctor’s Commons and had a discreet word with the official there. I told him that we had a field marriage and we’ve lost the papers, so in the eyes of the law it might not be considered proper. Since we have no children, the question of legitimacy hasn’t emerged—yet.” He stepped over the gown and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “After last night, it’s possible. If we have a child, if that child is a son, I want him to become the Earl of Graywood, not watch a younger but legitimate brother take that honour. I want us married, tied up tight, Faith in that circumstance.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “I’m eight and twenty, and I’ve never conceived.”

“If it happens, I want it right. Faith, we have a difficult hill to climb.” He paused. “That is, I do and in my selfishness I want someone capable by my side as I do it, someone I can trust to support me. You, I want you. In the army I saw you cope with the worst conditions imaginable and do it with aplomb. Whatever else you did, I understand.” His tightened mouth didn’t say that to her.

She’d taken his pension and his memory, and traduced it.

He was her employer, and he wanted her to do a job. When that had finished, she would leave and most likely they’d never meet again. She would accept the tools to do the job properly—the clothes and the luxurious surroundings—but she’d leave them behind when she went. If she forgot that, she’d be lost.

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She didn’t want to marry him with the memory of what she had done hanging over her. “I don’t think I will fall pregnant.” She had serious doubts that she would. Even if she did, surely it would take more than once to reinvigorate organs that had lain moribund for the past two years.

“You don’t want to marry me?” He pasted on a warm smile, but she could tell the difference between his sincerity and the way he could act the kind, understanding man.

“I didn’t say that,” she said and in the same instant realised she meant nothing of the sort. She wanted to marry him. He had a core of integrity she’d always admired. Not to mention that she’d seen him naked now, and lost her breath. But she wouldn’t marry him this way. “I am the impostor who fooled you. I promised to amend for that by behaving as your wife until you don’t need me any more.”

“Remember that.” He said it firmly. She had no doubt he’d let her know when he’d done with her. But for now, she could enjoy him. Refusing to allow sadness to infuse her thoughts now, she moved closer, rubbed her body against his before she shrugged and smiled. “As you will.” She turned away to allow him to loosen her stays. She didn’t need it, but she wanted his hands on her. She still wore her everyday stays, the ones with the laces down the back and the hooks down the front. In any case she never wore them so tight they restricted her movements. But she loved the feeling of his fingers on her back, warm and capable, helping her.

If she couldn’t have him much longer, she’d make the most of him while he was here. “We have an hour before we have to dress for dinner.” Turning around, she put on a smile she meant. She saw the birth of his response in his eyes.

She stretched up for his kiss, having to stand on her toes now she had discarded her shoes. He smiled against her mouth before deepening the embrace and giving her the kiss she wanted, open mouthed and lascivious.

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She held on, knowing he’d support her, take care of her, more than she’d ever had from any other man in her life, and she loved it.

That was why she couldn’t bring her troubles into his life. He deserved a better wife than her, and that was all there was. But for now, she had him and she would keep him and do her best to fight by his side.

His arms circled her waist, his palm flattened on the curve of her back, possessive and hot. His fingers burned into her like separate flames, inciting her arousal, making it inevitable.

When he groaned into her mouth, she melted with need. The stresses of the day combined with his presence forced her arousal up to levels she hadn’t known before, and she wanted him now. For the first time in her life she initiated an intimate act instead of responding to it. She fumbled at his breeches, finding the fall and unbuttoning each side with more haste than care. Underneath, his drawers proved no impediment to her questing fingers. She had his cock in her hands, hard, as hot as she felt, damp when she smoothed the bead of moisture gathered at the top over the head. His whole body stiffened, then he let out another groan, and released her mouth. “I can’t concentrate when you do that. Lift your skirts.

Now.”

She didn’t let him go, but did as he asked with her free hand, shamelessly revealing the most intimate part of her body. Widening her legs, she wondered how she, a small woman, could mount him, a tall man. He answered her without words when he put his hands on her bottom and lifted her to carry her to the nearest wall.

Pushing her against it, he took her mouth again, briefly, roughly, before dragging his lips away to speak to her. “Put it there. Guide me to your cunny.”

Oh, such wicked words! She’d heard that and more in her army years, but to hear the language in the refined tones of a man of fashion made her body turn to liquid. Her desire for him rocketed out of control. With him supporting her at the right height, it
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didn’t take much to bring his shaft close to her—cunny—and push the tip barely inside. She could do no more. With a sighed “Yes!” he did the rest, driving so deep she could have sworn nobody had ever visited that place before. If she pushed her shoulders against the wall, she could lift her legs and wind them around him. It said a lot for his strength that he held her without seeming difficulty, for she was no ethereal lightweight. He thrust in and out of her like a battering ram against a fortress gate.

“Scream if you need to. I want to hear your response, Faith. No holding back.”

This house was so much bigger, that in itself afforded privacy such as she’d never known before. He rammed into her, giving no quarter and she took everything. As he filled her, every drive brought her closer to her culmination, rising inevitably in her body.

Her body thumped the wall behind her as he pounded into her.

She’d never dare evoke that sound in her home for fear of bringing Amelia and the servants running. Here, nobody heard, or guessed what was happening and didn’t disturb them.

All that passed through her mind as he bellowed her name, and she felt the hot wetness of his essence gush deep inside her. She leaned against the wall, her legs around his waist, and allowed herself to revel in the sensation of being completely sated. She could stay there forever.

Not that he wanted her to. He lifted her off him, as tender as he’d been ruthless a moment before. His juices wet her upper thighs when he lowered her gently to the floor. She didn’t have much time to enjoy the feel of the carpet against her toes before he lifted her.

He carried her across to the bed, where he drew back the sheets and laid her down with as much care as if she were fashioned from fine china. Before he replaced the covers, he stripped her, then himself, then he joined her. She went into his arms with a happy sigh.

“I have to apologise,” he said, touching his lips to her temple.

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“Why?” She nuzzled his chest, tucked her leg between his. He felt remarkably warm.

He touched her chin and kissed her. “I used some unforgiveable language.”

Her smile must have told him how she felt about that, because he smiled back. “I forgive you. Do you think I’m a society lady, offended by naughty words?”

He shook his head, the expression in his eyes soft. “You’re a remarkable woman. You should take offence. I treated you...”

Suddenly shy, she dropped her gaze. “I liked it.” The hot flush that coursed through her body when he said it, the sudden height of arousal—if she didn’t tell him it pleased her, he wouldn’t do it again. She really wanted that to happen again. “You handled me like a woman, John. A real woman, not a precious possession or a worthless piece of nothing. Please don’t stop.”

When she lifted her gaze again she saw an expression she’d never seen in him before. Understanding, wonder, maybe something else she dared not consider, even now. Oh well, she might as well tell him everything. After all, she had nothing to lose. Not even him, for he didn’t belong to her to begin with. “I used to watch you in camp.

You’d stride out of your tent as if you had no doubts. The men appreciated that. But you’d stop and listen, and the way you noticed everything—I was glad we were with your company, and not another.”

He laughed. “An infantry regiment? Not all my men felt that way. Far better a glamorous dragoon or a cavalry officer. But thank you. I tried.” He paused. Hell, she’d just commented on his sharp perception and then let him see her face close-up. “You watched me?”

“Only when you weren’t looking.”

“I saw you, you know.”

That came as a revelation to her. “I thought you never noticed me.”

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He stroked her hair, his palm a soothing weight on her curls.

“Oh, I noticed. I did my best not to. Your husband was a good officer. He got the job done. I didn’t want to risk upsetting him. In any case, I never—damn, Faith, it’s too easy to talk to you.” He gave a half smile, self-deprecating. “I didn’t believe in polluting my own back yard.”

“Is that how you saw it?”

“Very much, when I desired the wife of one of my officers.”

Their eyes met in total understanding. For that reason, she wouldn’t have taken him up on any offer. But only because of that.

No other. If she told him that, he’d feel more beholden to her, because men of honour didn’t turn their backs on women who cared for them. More than she had a right to, even now. “Now he’s not here anymore.”

She nodded. “No, he’s not. He died at Waterloo.”

“Which reminds me.” He touched her chin, all business now, except that his cock nuzzled her bare flesh and his eyes held remnants of the glorious passion they’d recently shared. “We can’t say that. Everyone knows my history, or think they do. I was badly injured at Waterloo, enough so I lost my memory for a month. So we wouldn’t have had time to marry if Smith died there, too. I’ve always found it best to stay as close to the truth as possible, so I thought of a story.”

“I never thought it would be so complicated.” She hadn’t considered that part much at all, to be honest, but acted from sheer panic, then found herself caught. How to explain that to him?

Better if he didn’t know that part.

“Lies can lead to complexities we are better avoiding, but we have to explain how you could have married two husbands so quickly. We’ll say that John Smith died just before the great battle, in a skirmish. That will leave his battle honours intact. I married you that night because I didn’t want you left alone. How does that sound?”

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“Strange.” It did, it sounded odd. Would a commanding officer automatically do that? She’d never seen it or heard of it happening.

“Then we hint at a longstanding attraction. It sounds as if we had that without realising it.” He tilted her chin and kissed her again, this time making it longer, more luscious, tasting her and encouraging her to do the same to him. When they ended the kiss, their bodies had heated and they were both breathing heavier. He smiled. “See? Nobody seeing us now would doubt it.”