“So that I can massage your shoulders. Have no fear, I won’t proceed any further without an invitation.”

He turned her sideways so that her back was to him; she held herself rigid as his hands gently began moving on her shoulders. It was deplorable how his simplest touch made her breathless…

“Relax, love,” Traherne admonished. “I intend to keep my promise to protect you.”

Oddly enough, she believed him. Why is it that this man can make me feel so safe, so secure, and yet so flustered by his very nearness at the same time?

He began kneading more deeply, working out the tight knots in her muscles. When he found a particularly sore spot and brought her relief, she almost sighed with bliss.

At the soft sound she made, his hands suddenly stilled. A moment later his touch became lighter. For a heartbeat, his fingers played on the bare skin of her neck above her gown.

Then slowly he bent his head to kiss her sensitive nape. Venetia gave a start and pulled away. “Traherne!”

When she gazed over her shoulder at him accusingly, he held up his hands innocently. “Mea culpa, I couldn’t resist. Your skin is too lovely.”

His gaze drifted lower to her breasts, as if he was recalling their lovemaking this morning.

Silently cursing her response, Venetia set down her cup and rose to her feet. He had only to look at her and she felt desire flood her. “I believe I will retire to my room.”

“As you wish. I mean to remain here for a while longer and cool off. Pleasant dreams.”

She felt herself flush as she made her way from the parlor. She sincerely hoped her dreams would not be as erotic as the one that had awakened her that morning. If they were, she would never survive this confinement.

—

To her gratitude, she passed a fantasy-free night and woke somewhat refreshed. Traherne must be an early riser, for he was already at the breakfast table when she came downstairs.

As they began their meal, he proposed they explore the grounds afterward. “I fear I can’t ride without further damaging my side but I can traipse about well enough.”

“I would like that,” Venetia agreed readily, eager to see more of the countryside and escape the isolation of the cottage.

When they set out, the spring morning was crisp and fresh; morning sunlight quickly burned off the slight mist that hung over the meadows. Out of concern for his injury, they strolled the footpaths at an easy pace, beside a meandering stream.

When they reached a charming stone bridge, Traherne pointed toward a gully in the distance and explained about the geography of the district.

“The hills to the southwest of us are riddled with limestone caves, some quite large. Our underground spring here carved out a smaller cave aeons ago. I mean to wait until this afternoon to risk bathing. The water is hot enough, but it will be more enjoyable once the air is warmer.”

Venetia wasn’t certain then if she would accompany him, but it was one of the most pleasant mornings she could remember, certainly since her banishment from England.

Another surprise awaited her when they returned to the cottage. No sooner had they entered than the estate’s tenants came to call.

When the middle-aged couple introduced themselves as Colonel Randall Langford and his wife, Marie, Mrs. Langford practically gushed with joy at having an earl and countess staying on her back doorstep. She went on and on with embarrassing effusiveness about how honored she was to meet her ladyship, and she was not too old to try to flirt with Traherne.

“There will be many a broken heart among the fair sex,” Mrs. Langford declared, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “I follow London society with great interest—the papers are delivered to us monthly—but I had not heard the news that you had tied the knot, my lord. You have long been considered the biggest prize on the Marriage Mart.”

Unexpectedly, Traherne slid his arm around Venetia’s waist and drew her close. “I am fortunate to have won the biggest prize, madam,” he said, sending Venetia an intimate, adoring look, evidently meant to convey the message that they were madly in love.

“Well, it is a sad day for the other ladies, I am sure,” Mrs. Langford replied with a sigh, her cheery friendliness suggesting that she hadn’t made the connection with Venetia’s scandal two years ago. “We wish to invite you to dine with us one evening and hope you will grace our humble circle with your attendance at the local assembly on Friday evening.”

“You will understand if I want to keep my bride all to myself.”

Colonel Langford stepped in. “Of course, of course. We recall what it is like to be newly wedded. Come, my dear, we are interrupting his lordship’s nuptials. They are likely eager to return to their boudoir.”

At the images of them remaining abed indulging in sexual romps, Venetia felt herself flushing. However, when their visitors had left and Traherne released her, she felt an unmistakable pang of disappointment. Naturally she saw the wisdom of maintaining the pretense of being happily wed since it increased the likelihood they would be left alone, but for a moment she couldn’t help wondering how wonderful it would feel if her husband’s adoration were real.

He must have seen her expression for he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You didn’t wish to accept their invitations, did you?”

“No, they were kindly meant, but I would rather not be the object of so much avid attention.”

Tags: Nicole Jordan Legendary Lovers Historical
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