Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

He sat up, curling his arms possessively around her back. “Well, since you said please, I’ll have to be content to burrow beneath it.” His fingers skimmed up her leg. “Hmm, definitely warmer now.” He leaned close to her ear. “I do enjoy making you hot for me.”

He caught her gaze in his and she saw humor in his eyes. After a moment, she dug into his coat pocket to retrieve his condom. He sucked in a breath as she eased back from his lap. The large bulge beneath his trousers awaited her touch. Meredith slowly unbuttoned his trousers, peeking at him several times from beneath her lashes. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as she took him in hand, and when she had affixed the condom to his length, he groaned loudly.

Meredith shifted position and, without preamble, slowly lowered herself onto his length. The sensations were not as pleasant as a bare man, but if he still brought the condom when he came to her, he must be serious about its use. When he was fully seated, he slipped his hand beneath her gown. She lifted slightly and his hand worked between them, clamped on his length, and kept the condom in place.

In most circumstances, the things were next to useless, often slipping free and becoming lodged inside the woman. With Grayling holding the base, however, slippage shouldn’t be a problem. Meredith rode him carefully, rising and falling to build his enjoyment. He bit his lip again and she hoped he would not take long. Meredith found little pleasure with the condom between them.

“Devil take it, woman! Exactly what I need.”

He clutched her to him with one hand and groaned against the skin of her neck. He shook in her arms and she cuddled him close, loving the control she had over him and planning his next surrender. She did love a man who didn’t mind expressing his desires out loud. That made her job as simple and as good as it could be.

CHAPTER 6

THE PATTER OF small scurrying slippers on tile greeted Constantine as he stepped into the conservatory at Stanton Harold Hall, chasing the location of his family. The indulgent soaking bath and a change of clothes had made him more presentable, but he was well aware he’d lost many valuable working hours today because he’d tarried overlong elsewhere.

He glanced about for his daughters among the shrubbery and his breath caught in his throat. Augusta? His wife stood bathed in bright sunlight in the conservatory she loved so much, hand raised to cup a flower close to her face as she inhaled. Her pale hair was twined about her head in elegant curls as if she was on her way to a party or fete and waiting for him to join her. A fierce pain pierced his chest and he swayed toward her, wishing to touch her.

Her head turned and instead of the fine patrician nose he remembered and loved, he glimpsed a Roman one that belonged on another woman’s face. He shook his head to clear the vision and return to his reality. His wife was dead. He’d killed Augusta.

When he looked again, he saw it was Arabella, Lady Farnsworth, come to call.

She turned a puzzled gaze in his direction. “I was just beginning to doubt you’d return, Grayling,” she murmured quietly.

He hurried down the shallow steps to greet her properly, glancing about for his children. When he couldn’t see them immediately, he gave her his full attention. “A delay. Forgive me. I’d have hurried if I’d known you were here and waiting.”

She dipped an elegant curtsy to his bow and the longing for his wife faded to one of regret. Lady Farnsworth wasn’t much like his wife save for the color of her hair and her slender height.

“I forgive you, especially when you appear in such good health,” Arabella whispered as she glanced about the room. “Twenty. Here I come.”

She held her finger to her lips and began to creep about the conservatory. “Found you,” she cried as she pounced behind a potted palm.

His middle daughter, Maisy, giggled and glanced at him shyly before ducking down again. Arabella continued to creep about, and Constantine grinned. He’d stumbled into a game of hide-and-seek and had now to wait for its completion.

He eased closer to Maisy. “Good morning, Mischief.”

At four, Maisy didn’t understand what he meant, but that didn’t mean she didn’t cause him considerable worry for the future. Maisy was always up to something she shouldn’t be, hence the nickname his wife had bestowed on her when she’d first started to move about, most often disappearing beneath the furniture. As usual, his daughter remained apart, hidden from view behind the potted plant.

He sighed and took a seat rather than press the issue of the lack of greeting. He just couldn’t seem to gain her affection. Perhaps they blamed him for taking their mother away. His wife had been their whole world and he an interloper who stole her from them. His children showed their sadness in different ways.

When Arabella found his eldest daughter, she dragged Willow across the room by the hand and pressed her into the spot beside him. Not a giggle, greeting, or protest passed her lips. His eldest daughter had gradually fallen silent since her mother’s passing. Constantine was well beyond worried about that. Arabella could only suggest patience.

She smiled across at him. “There now. That’s a pretty picture.”

“It is,” he agreed, his gaze straying toward the potted plant Maisy still hid behind. She wasn’t a silent creature. She just tended to disappear when he wasn’t looking. “What other fun have you been having today, ladies?”

Arabella gestured to Willow. “Oh, lots of things. Willow can tell you all about it, I’m sure.”

Willow remained silent, however, unwilling or unable to fill the gap with chatter. The girl’s silence wasn’t unusual. He just hoped she grew out of it soon.

Arabella glanced at where Maisy hid, a deep sigh passing her lips at his children’s difficult natures. “Willow, darling, would you be a treasure and collect your sister so you can return to the nursery for tea with little Poppy? I’ll come and see you all again before I go home. I promise.”

Released from the necessity of sitting beside him, Willow obediently crossed to Maisy, grabbed her by the hand, and hauled her from the room without a backward glance. Their lack of ease around him wasn’t something he could change. “Were they good for you?”

“They are always good for me because I do not demand they behave like perfect ladies. You know my opinions on that. Little girls need some freedom.” Despite her words, Arabella pressed her hand to her brow and rubbed her temple.

“But they have worn you out?” Gray sat forward, hands on his knees. “Then you should be unhappy to know their last governess up and quit on me yesterday.”

“I heard and am glad to see her gone. She never played with them at all.” Arabella kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet beneath her as she had done countless times since he’d known her. Arabella wasn’t one to adhere to the rules of proper conduct when she didn’t believe it necessary or when no one was looking. Her lack of decorum made her a comfortable companion for a heartbroken man. “Have you placed an advertisement for her replacement?”