Trouble With Harry (10 page)

“How to make the children mind you?” Thom asked, still pouring over the book sitting before her. Plum craned her neck to see what it was that Thom found so fascinating, then jumped up and gasped, “Thomasine! What are you doing with
that
?”

Thom put a finger on a page to mark her spot, and looked up. “Reading. It's very informative. How did you come up with the idea of Hunter Loosing an Arrow into a Mossy Crevice? I would think that something like that would hurt, should the gentleman's aim be off.”

Plum marched over to her niece and snatched the book from her hands, stuffing it into the back of the writing bureau and slamming the lid shut. “Charles was very inventive and his aim was never off. That is all I am going to say on the subject.”

Thom grinned. Plum shook a finger at that grin. “I've told you before that you're not to read the
Guide
until you are married!”

“I have no plans ever to marry. I shall be a doting aunt to your children. And Harry's, too, if he'll let me. I rather like them.”

“So do I, but that's neither here nor there. And you're changing the subject—that book is not suitable reading for you, and that's that.”

Thom tipped her head and looked Plum over as she returned to her chair before the window and resumed drying her hair. “Are you ashamed that you wrote it?”

“Of course I'm not ashamed…not in the sense you mean, I'm not. There is nothing in there that is coarse or distasteful, it's simply instruction of an intimate nature, a celebration if you will of the physical union between a husband and wife.”

“Then why did you hide the book away in the bureau? Why don't you set it out so people can see it and know you are the author?”

A look of horror crawled across Plum's face. Her stomach balled up into a tiny little lead weight with the thought of just how their lives would be ruined should the identity of Vyvyan La Blue be made public. “Dear God in heaven, that would be the end.”

“Oh, surely you exaggerate,” Thom said.

Plum shook her head, horrific visions dancing in her head of ostracization a million times worse than what she'd experienced. “The last scandal took the life of your beloved mother, Thom. This one would…oh, it would destroy us all! You, Harry, the children…everyone would be tainted, everyone would be shunned.”

“Pooh. People wouldn't be so cruel over such a silly thing.”

“Silly?” Plum stared at her niece, desperate to make her understand lest the girl inadvertently give away her secret. Before there was just Thom and herself to worry about, but now she had six more souls to protect. “Silly? Thom, I was silly once, when I was your age. Silly and naive to believe Charles was being truthful and honest when he married me. I suffered for that silliness, as did my family, most particularly your mother. Because of that silliness, I will have to spend the rest of my life in the country—which I don't mind, I prefer country life, and thankfully Harry seems disinclined to go into town or Polite Society—but the fact remains that I cannot go anywhere people know me, or know of my past.”

Thom made an annoyed sound. “I don't believe any of your acquaintances would still remember that old farrago. Yes, the people in Ram's Bottom were rude to you about it, but they aren't Society, and that's who you're worried about. You told me yourself that the
ton
isn't happy unless it has a new scandal to chew over each week.”

“They might need a new scandal each week, but they also have exceptionally long memories. Truthfully, Thom, that scandal would pale in comparison to the one that would be generated should the
ton
become aware that the author of the most infamous book yet published was none other than the Marchioness Rosse. Society might titter and gossip behind their hands about a woman who was foolish enough to marry Charles, but they would cut dead everyone who was related—by birth or circumstance—to the author of the
Guide
.”

Thom shrugged. “I know Mama felt differently, but I don't mind being shunned.”

“I know you don't, a fact I am profoundly grateful for, one which has me begging for forgiveness every night in my prayers, but your feet tread a different path than most people's. You are not a well-respected and well-liked man who has committed no sin but marrying a woman with a secret; you are not an innocent child with your life spread before you, a life that will be cruelly ruined, with no hope of ever taking your rightful place in the Society to which you were born.”

Thom held up her hands and gave a little laugh. “I surrender. I bow to your superior knowledge of Society. But surely you have no need to hide the
Guide
from Harry? Oh, don't get your hackles up, I'm not suggesting that you tell him you wrote it—not that I think he would mind, he seems a very fair-minded man—but there's no reason you couldn't show him the book and try out one or two of the more interesting exercises. I was thinking that Heron Alighting Upon a Still Pond looked rather fascinating.”

“Heron Alighting—” A slow smile curved Plum's lips as she recalled just what was involved in that particular calisthenic. “Oh, yes, that would be…ahem. Thank you, Thom. I will take your advice under consideration. Now, you'd best be off to your own bed. Will you be available tomorrow to take the children on a nature walk with me?”

“A nature walk?” Thom strolled toward the door, pausing when she reached it to cock an eyebrow at her aunt. “Why would you want to take the children on a nature walk?”

“They have a surfeit of energy. I thought a long walk where they will be free to run and romp to their heart's content will benefit them, and serve to show them that good behavior will be rewarded.”

“Clever puss,” Thom said with a grin, then shook her head with rue. “I hate to miss that, but Puck told me the farrier is to come tomorrow, and I wish to watch him. You don't mind if I miss your nature walk, do you?”

“Puck?”

“One of Harry's stable boys. The one with the red hair and freckles.”

“Ah. No, I don't mind.” Plum had a moment of misgiving thinking of herself alone with the children, but that was quickly squelched. She had triumphed over much worse things, how hard could it be to take five children on a walk through the countryside?

Thom bid her a good night. Plum stood by the open window, slowly combing her hair, thinking about the many challenges that faced her, not the least of which was the upcoming evening. Harry believed her to be a shy bride, not a virgin, but virginal, unlearned, and inexperienced. While it was true she had only six weeks of Charles's attention before the marriage was discovered and he was sent abroad by his family, they were very instructive weeks. Thus it would be necessary for her to not take the initiative, nor to attempt anything beyond Leda and the Swan. “Which is a shame, because Thom is absolutely right, Heron Alighting Upon a Still Pond is extremely fascinating, particularly when the heron in question has legs as long as Harry's.”

Plum didn't have long to muse upon her sorrows before her husband burst into her room with a hurried knock at her door. He stopped just beyond the doorway and gazed at Plum, curled up in a chair reading a book (not the
Guide
). His eyes were dark behind his spectacles, but the heat within them was visible to her even across the room. Plum was filled with a responding warmth, her body reacting to that gaze by preparing itself for him. Beneath the soft linen of her night rail, her nipples hardened, her breasts waking themselves up out of a dormant sleep, becoming immediately both extremely sensitive and heavy, as if they needed hands—Harry's hands—holding them up. Her stomach was filled with the same tumbling butterflies that had made their appearance the night before, her thighs ached to wrap themselves around him, and her womanly parts were holding a celebration and offered an invitation to Harry to attend the festivities.

“Erm…Plum? You're not going to throw me out again, are you? You've forgiven me?” Harry looked so adorable, so hesitant, so…
manly
what with his bare feet and ankles, and that little bit of chest that showed at the top of his gold dressing gown, not to mention the enticing bulge in the region of his groin that practically had Plum licking her lips.

I
must
be
innocent, I must be innocent
, she told herself, and fought a short-lived battle to keep from leaping up and ripping the dressing gown from his body. Her hands tightened on the arms of the chair with the effort. She cleared her throat and tried to speak, but her words came out hoarse. She cleared her throat again, then offered Harry what she prayed looked like a shy, innocent, maidenly smile, and not the smile of a woman who was anticipating the close examination and practical application of his body against hers. “Of course I'm not angry with you, and no, I will not ask you to leave my bedchamber again. That was very ill done of me, Harry, and I apologize again for my actions. In fact—” She paused and chewed her lip. Should she take the chance of angering him and tell him about Charles? With each day of acquaintance with him she was becoming more and more confident of him, just as her burden weighed more heavily on her soul, but with that confidence came reluctance to harm their budding relationship. Perhaps if she waited until later, after they had a chance to know one another, after he knew just how much of a help she could be in his life, perhaps then would be the time to bare her own secrets.

“In fact what?” he asked, moving closer now, holding out his hands for her to take. He pulled her to her feet, straight into his arms, his body moving seductively against hers as a smile played around his rugged, manly lips—lips that drove all thoughts out of Plum's mind but what pleasure they brought her.

“In fact I should like very much for you to make love to me,” she whispered, forgetting to be shy and innocent in her desire for him. A flicker of surprise flashed across Harry's face before he bent and scooped her up in his arms, turning to carry her into his room. Plum had little time to admire the dark blue colors of his curtains and matching chairs before he deposited her on the middle of his bed, stripping off her night rail before she even had a chance to gasp.

She lay exposed to his gaze, every last blessed inch of her, and although she knew she should be embarrassed by her nudity, the way his eyes were eating her, she wasn't. All the tingling and pools of heat within her were stirred to a new level of intensity by the pleasure she saw reflected in his eyes. She rolled onto her side into a more artful position, and gave Harry a blatant come-hither smile.

“You look uncomfortably hot in that dressing gown, husband. Don't you think you should shed it and come to bed?”

“What?” Harry's voice was just as hoarse as Plum's had been, something that made her smile to herself as she patted the bed beside her.

“Take it off, Harry. I wish to see you, too.”

Harry's eyes went practically black as he struggled to relieve himself of the hold his dressing gown had on him. His fingers seemed to have difficulty with the buttons. After fighting them for a few seconds, he snarled and ripped the garment off, throwing himself down beside her, his hands reaching for her.

“No,” Plum said, pushing his hands away.

“No?” Harry choked. “No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no, I wish to look at you first.” Plum sat on her heels and looked at the vast array of Harry before her. He was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, better than she imagined. His legs were long and well muscled, not at all scrawny, as Charles's had been. His belly had just the slightest hint of a softness to it, a sign of his age, no doubt, but a sign that pleased Plum immensely. Charles had been thin and bony, and she had always been partial to large men—not fat, but comfortable to touch. Harry's little hint of a belly was the perfect balance to the rest of his hard, muscled self. Her eyes skittered up his lightly haired chest—a chest that was heaving, she was pleased to note—across the broad width of his shoulders.

“What is it about a man's chest?” she mused aloud as she took in the last uncovered bits of him, two strong arms with long, blunt-tipped fingers, a strong neck, and oh yes, the part she had been trying to ignore, the part of him that stood up and saluted her with a cheery wave.

“I was wondering just the exact same thing about your chest,” Harry said, his hands twitching on the blue-and-gold counterpane. “Am I allowed to touch you yet?”

“Not yet. Soon. But not yet.”

Harry groaned, and started to protest when Plum took him into her hands. His hips arched upward, the groan strangling in his throat.

“You're very aroused. I like that about you. You're also a bit longer than I expected, but I trust that won't be the cause of any difficulty.”

Harry gasped in great quantities of air and clutched the counterpane with both hands. “I trust not.”

She explored the hard, hot length of velvety soft flesh that moved like silk over steel, enjoying the way his eyes rolled up in his head. Sweat broke out on his brow as his chest heaved, desperately attempting to bring enough air into his lungs. Plum allowed her hands to roam, to touch and tease the surrounding skin, then leaned over and nipped at his adorable little belly.

His stomach tightened as he yelped her name. Plum just grinned at him and kissed a path upward even as her hand slid lower. He smelled so good, like lemon soap and aroused male and something else, something a little spicy, something uniquely Harry.

“You have a very nice chest,” she whispered as his light dusting of chest hair tickled her nose. She wanted more than anything to take his adorable little nipples into her mouth, teasing them with teeth and tongue until he pleaded for mercy, but she remembered in time that she was supposed to be innocent of such knowledge, and contented herself with pressing a kiss to each nipple before nibbling a path up his neck and around to his ear.