Chapter Fourteen
Rayne makes a woman desperately yearn for his kisses, Maman, but I hope to make him yearn for mine. Regrettably, he seems stubbornly resistant to all my efforts.
The change in Madeline was clearly noticeable to Rayne. When they dined at Danvers Hall that evening, she wore a stunning evening gown of white Brussels lace over a slip of pale green sarcenet. Her hair was dressed in a much softer style than before, her shimmering tresses threaded with seed pearls and emerald green ribbons.
Madeline’s features seemed softer as well, more delicate and refined somehow. In truth, Rayne decided, his new wife looked almost beautiful with her sophisticated, fashionable veneer. From watching her interact with the other dinner guests, it was obvious she was ready to take her place at his side as his countess.
Understandably, Rayne spent the entire evening fighting his attraction. There was no question that the new Madeline was lovelier than the plain spinster he had wed the previous week. And although her outer appearance was not as important to him as her spirit and her intelligence and her lively wit, he couldn’t help being affected by the change in her. To his chagrin, Rayne felt an unwanted softening inside him, a weakening of his resolve to keep his distance from Madeline.
His weakness only intensified once they returned home to Riverwood and retired for bed. Madeline had also acquired more confidence in her feminine appeal, apparently, in addition to her newfound sensuality, for when Rayne escorted her upstairs to her bedchamber door, she paused to look up at him.
When she met his gaze with her luminous gray eyes, her glance both inviting and questioning, Rayne couldn’t help remembering how hot and eager she’d been in his arms just a few hours earlier. He could still feel her tight sheath clenching around his cock in a violent climax.
Recollecting her taste, her texture, her warmth, Rayne felt a powerful surge of lust ripple through him—which might have been exactly her intent. From her expression he could tell she knew he was thinking of their bath. Her lips curved with that same tantalizing smile she had flashed him this afternoon during their passionate encounter in the bathing chamber.
His gaze fixed on her full, ripe mouth for a dozen heartbeats … but then Rayne forced himself to take a step back. He longed to follow Madeline into her bedchamber and spend the entire night ravishing her. He wanted to be inside her again in the most desperate way. Yet he left her at her door, determined to limit his connubial demands, despite his professed desire to sire an heir.
He already felt too much need for Madeline. Until he discovered a way to be with her, to be inside her without allowing her to slip any deeper inside him, he intended to stay away.
Not surprisingly, Rayne had difficulty sleeping that night, finding it all but impossible to drive away the memory of making love to Madeline. He woke the next morning, feeling restless and irritated. It was understandable that he wanted her so badly, but why he was having such trouble maintaining his emotional defenses—when he’d vowed to feel nothing more for her than carnal desire—was much harder to fathom.
He had a similar problem when Madeline joined him at breakfast, looking fresh and lovely in a cream-colored muslin morning gown. He longed to pull her into his arms so he could kiss that alluring mouth and that even more alluring body.
Doubtless that explained why he was thankful for the minor incident that put him on his guard once more. They were engaging in polite conversation at the breakfast table, discussing the guests Madeline had met the previous evening, when she accidently let slip a revelation. Rayne had just complimented her on her success in winning over their neighbors.
Madeline gave a small laugh while wrinkling her nose. “To be truthful, I am attempting to become more like Roslyn Moncrief. I know you admire her immensely. How did you describe her? ‘Intriguing’? And you rated her very high on intelligence.”
Rayne’s gaze sharpened at her observation. There was only one way Madeline could have learned how he’d evaluated Roslyn: from rummaging in his study desk.
“How did you learn of my admiration for her?” he asked mildly.
Madeline suddenly gave a start. When she sent him a guilty look, Rayne wondered if she would confess or try to bluff her way out of her self-induced trap with a lie.
After a hesitation, she evidently decided to come clean about her transgression. “I happened to see your list of bridal candidates the other day.”
When he gave her a long, level look, Madeline added earnestly, “I was not snooping precisely. I was looking in your desk for writing paper. One of the drawers was unlocked, and when I came across your list of ladies’ names, I was curious enough to want to read your comments.”
When he remained silent, she placed an imploring hand on his arm. “I am sorry, Rayne. I didn’t mean to pry. It won’t happen again, I promise you.”
Her look was innocent enough, but then he had been fooled before by an imploring expression on a pretty face. He let the matter drop, yet the knowledge that Madeline had searched through his private papers to ferret out his personal secrets was enough to make him again question whether her word could be trusted.
Two days later, another more serious incident occurred that raised Rayne’s suspicions even further. It was late in the afternoon when he caught Madeline attempting to eavesdrop on his conversation.
Since returning to Riverwood, Rayne had received several reports from London regarding the progress in breaking up the assassination ring. As he dismissed the latest courier with some final instructions, he opened his study door to find his wife loitering in the corridor outside.
Madeline gave him an amiable smile as she offered an apology of sorts. “I was just debating whether to knock, my lord. I didn’t wish to intrude on your privacy.”
Rayne wasn’t sure if he believed her excuse for not making herself known, but he had no desire to discuss the matter before an audience. Thus, he nodded at the courier in dismissal.
When they were alone, Madeline slanted a glance up at Rayne from beneath her eyelashes
. “You missed tea again. I came to invite you to have it with me.”
Since he could think of no good reason to deny her invitation, Rayne followed her from his study and accompanied her to the drawing room, where his staff had already laid out an appetizing tea.
As she poured for him, Madeline commented in a casual tone, “I did not realize that you were still involved in your former spy activities.”
“What makes you think I am still involved?” Rayne hedged.