Her Husband’s Lover. Madelynne Ellis

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СКАЧАТЬ safe beside her. At home, he never strayed into her bedchamber, but in her father’s house there were appearances to maintain, as well as a shortage of rooms. She’d learned to tolerate Lyle’s presence in the bed. A line of pillows down the centre of the mattress formed a clear dividing line. She couldn’t have him touch her, no matter how much she cared for him, not even in sleep.

      Emma sat up. ‘Where is Mr Langley?’ she asked the dishevelled maid, who in her shock rubbed soot down the front of her homespun.

      ‘I’m sorry, milady. I don’t know.’

      ‘I’m right here, of course.’ Lyle sauntered into the room, still in his dress coat of the night before, carrying his waistcoat. At some point in the intervening hours he’d lost his cravat. The collar of his shirt hung open, revealing slivers of the fair skin beneath. He bore the glazed look of someone who has been awake too long, drunk too much or been kissed too hard. In Lyle’s case, she suspected all three. Something the marks around his neck seemed to confirm.

      Emma lowered her gaze. Her lips pressed tight together. She hardly needed to ask where he’d been or even who with. It made her stomach churn imagining Lord Darleston kissing Lyle so hard that he’d left such marks. ‘Leave us,’ she barked at the scullery maid, who gathered her things and fled.

      ‘Do we have something to talk about?’ Lyle wandered over to the sideboard and began removing his cufflinks and collar studs.

      ‘Where have you been? Have you slept?’

      ‘You know where I’ve been. Do we need to discuss it? And yes, thank you for asking, I have slept. Although I still require a good bit more.’ His coat and waistcoat followed the cufflinks, forming a jumbled heap upon the floor. Emma watched enraptured as he stepped out of his evening breeches and folded them over a chair back. Lyle was all straight lines. His body fascinated her in much the same way that she sometimes became entranced by a picture. She appreciated the aesthetic quality, but there was really no need to touch.

      He strode over to the bed, crushed shirt-tails dangling around his thighs and the neck open to his breastbone, so that the pale-gold hairs upon his chest were clearly visible. Up close the bruises on his neck were a vivid mix of crimson and purple. She half expected to see teeth-marks too. Lyle made no attempt to hide them.

      ‘I know the rules. I promise you, we were discreet.’ He destroyed the wall of pillows, casting all save one cushion onto the floor. The last he plumped instead and settled against.

      She couldn’t stay with him like this, with nothing between them but air and cold sheet.

      ‘Who was it?’ she asked quietly. There were things she instinctively knew about Lyle that only marriage exposed. She knew when he’d taken a lover and she knew when he’d drunk too much, without the need for questions or empirical evidence. Tonight she wanted actual confirmation, even though she knew it would smart to hear it. ‘Who?’

      Please say it was the footman or Aiken or anyone else. She clung tight to the slender thread of hope.

      ‘I thought we had an agreement that there was no problem with my choices. Why is it so important to know? What do you hope to learn? I wasn’t implying anything by removing the pillows. I just find it ridiculous that we have to sleep as though there are three of us in the bed.’

      ‘Don’t change the subject.’

      Lyle looked at her, his lips slightly parted as if about to speak. Instead, he smoothed a hand over the bedclothes so that he banished the wrinkles in the eiderdown. He frowned. ‘Why are we squabbling?

      They weren’t normally enemies over his infidelities – heavens, rather that than him seeking satisfaction from her – so she supposed it must seem odd to him that she was making an issue of it now.

      ‘Was it … was it Darleston? You know one another of old, don’t you? I just thought … I guessed after your greeting –’

       Oh, why did it have to be him? The only man she’d ever felt even the faintest connection with. Though hell knows why she felt it. They had nothing in common.

      Lyle’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

      ‘Yes, Darleston and I know one another. Why is it important?’ The bed groaned as he made a half-hearted attempt to tug the sheet over his shoulders. ‘Why the sudden interest in my doings? You’ve never taken any interest in my lovers before.’

      ‘No reason.’ She couldn’t confess. What was there, really, to confess to? She wasn’t about to act upon the curious tingle she felt inside when gazing at Lord Darleston. ‘I just thought it prudent to know. I wouldn’t want to intrude upon anything.’

      Lyle rolled over and gave her a hard stare. His nostrils flared slightly, causing Emma’s heart to thud. What if he suspected her affection? He might treat her differently if he saw she had intentions on another man. He might not be quite so amenable. God forbid, he might actually demand his conjugal rights.

      ‘Isn’t he a little notorious? I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.’

      ‘I won’t. Not as long as you’re with me.’ He reached out a hand to her, as if he meant to cup her cheek.

      Emma hopped out of bed. ‘You know that I’ll not make a fuss. Whatever it is that pleases you is quite fine by me as long as you respect my wishes as we discussed.’ She glared accusingly at his hand, so that he hid it beneath the sheet.

      Lyle’s lips formed a tight moue. ‘I always do, don’t I? I’ve never demanded …’

      She nodded. ‘And I appreciate it. Our needs complement one another. I’m eternally grateful for that.’

      ‘Don’t you ever long for even a little affection?’ Lyle enquired

      Emma’s nod transformed into a vigorous shake. ‘No – leastways, not as you mean it.’

      ‘But do you have any idea what it’s like?’ He sat up against the pillows with his hands steepled before him. A wistful smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

      ‘No – no, I don’t. And I really don’t need to.’ She shook her head while backing away from him. She really, really didn’t need to, because despite still being virgo intacta she could well imagine, having witnessed Lyle’s exploits before. That’s how she’d known she’d find him a suitable husband. She wasn’t sure who the man had been; a migrant labourer, perhaps, or a visiting groom. The sort of man she’d never really expected Lyle to associate with. They’d been bent over a mounting block in the stables and she remembered how the cheeks of the man’s bottom had flexed and dimpled as he’d driven his prick deep into Lyle’s rear. Even now the image still had the power to quake her to her very core. Watching him had been lewder by far than stumbling upon a man and maid. Men were not meant to love one another. She knew what she’d witnessed had been a criminal and ungodly act, yet the men’s pleasure had been unmistakable. Worse still, her memory had now metamorphosed, the groom replaced by Lord Darleston, standing in his magnificent baroque coat swiving her husband with depraved abandon.

      Fever consumed Emma’s body. She pulled on a wrapper and disguised her shivers as cold, fleeing toward the fireplace for emphasis. Her fascination with Lord Darleston hadn’t diminished with sleep; if anything it had grown more acute, particularly as she now knew him to be interested in Lyle. Not that she would ever act upon her attraction. Besides, silly ninny that she was, СКАЧАТЬ