Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
a violent creature you are,’ marvelled Gideon, a laugh in his voice. ‘I find you brandishing a poker at Lamotte and now you want to assault your cousin.’
‘When I am in a passion I hardly know what I am about,’ she confessed ruefully.
‘No, you don’t, do you?’
She looked up at that, a laughing question in her eyes, and found him watching her with such an arrested expression that her laughter died. Had she angered him, perhaps?
‘Can you really forgive me for my foolishness today?’ she asked him anxiously. ‘I promise you I shall not keep anything from you again.’
The serious look disappeared and he smiled, flicking her cheek with one careless finger.
‘Of course I forgive you,’ he said lightly. ‘Now let us hurry back to Brook Street. All this excitement has given me an appetite!’
* * *
It was almost an hour later when Gideon sat down to dinner with his wife, but despite his earlier protestations he only picked at the array of sumptuous dishes spread before him. His thoughts went back constantly to the events earlier that evening. Max’s attempts to discredit his wife had angered him, but that was not the only reason for his distraction. He was shocked by the jealousy that had consumed him when he had suspected Nicky had taken a lover.
That had been superseded by fear for her safety when he realised Max’s involvement, but more than anything he was confused by the overwhelming desire that had come over him when he had kissed her. It had been every bit as strong as on their wedding night. Then he had put it down to an excess of wine. Kissing his wife in broad daylight and in such a public place as St James’s Street should not have had anything like the same effect, but the touch of her lips had shaken him to the very core. He had covered it well, of course, but then, when they were walking home and she had mentioned her passionate nature, the memory of her response to his lovemaking on that first, momentous night had hit him so forcibly that for a few moments he had not been able to speak and had only been aware of a strong desire to rush home and repeat the performance.
Since their night together at Elmwood he had tried to treat her as a wife should be treated. He visited her bed for the sole purpose of producing an heir, keeping all other feelings well under control and it shocked him, as they entered the shadowy portals of his Brook Street house to find that he wanted to pick her up and carry her to his room, to rip off her clothes and make love to her as violently, as passionately as on that first, tempestuous occasion.
It could not be, of course. Now she was carrying his child he had no excuse to make love to her. His father had told him to take a mistress, but Gideon knew now that he did not want a mistress, he wanted his wife.
He struggled through dinner, trying to converse, attempting to entertain Nicky with amusing anecdotes while all he could think of was the softness of her skin, the warmth of her limbs when they were wrapped around him. When she went off to the drawing room he lingered over his port, wondering if the excitement of the day would make her too tired to wait up for him, but as he reached the drawing-room door he heard the soft lilting strains of the harp.
He watched her from the doorway, marvelling at the concentration on her face, and when his eyes moved to her hands caressing the strings he found himself remembering how gently those same fingers touched his body. Gideon shifted uncomfortably. It would not do. She was with child and as such would not welcome his advances. Indeed, he knew that such behaviour was downright dangerous. Father had made that quite clear. Looking across at the delicate little figure before him, Gideon knew he would not risk such a thing happening to Nicky.
Yet it took all his resolution to part from her that night and not to make his way through the dressing room to her bedchamber.
* * *
‘I think we should go to Rotham,’ Gideon announced at breakfast the next morning. ‘It is time you met my father.’
Dominique continued pouring her coffee. It was not unexpected, but his next words caused her to heart to sink.
‘You will remain there until the baby is born.’
‘And will you stay, too?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.
‘For a couple of weeks.’
So it had come. He had had enough of her—and how could she blame him, after her foolishness yesterday? There could be no arguing. Of course he would want the child to be born at Rotham, especially if it was a boy.
‘When do we go?’
‘In three weeks.’
‘Gwen has invited us to join her in Brighton.’
‘Impossible,’ he said shortly.
She accepted this, but he must have observed her disappointment for he added in a kinder tone, ‘Perhaps next year. Dr Harris is very good, but I should like you to have the services of my father’s medical man, a very experienced doctor. He delivered both of my sister’s children. Ribblestone’s country seat, Fairlawns, is but five miles from Rotham and Gwen will vouch for him, I am sure. That is, have you told her that you are increasing?’
‘Yes, but I swore her to secrecy.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Then I doubt it will remain a secret much longer.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘If you are in agreement, then I shall write to my father today and tell him we shall be at Rotham by the middle of July.’
What could she say? It was good of him to pretend she had a choice.
* * *
When Gwen heard that they were going to Rotham she screwed her face up in distaste. Dominique blinked away a rogue tear that threatened her eye.
‘Gideon says I am to stay there until the baby is born.’
‘Six months! You poor thing.’ Gwen added quickly, ‘I am sure he is thinking of your well-being, my love.’
‘He says the doctor there is very good.’
‘Oh, yes, indeed, you will like Dr Bolton, I am sure. Did Gideon tell you he delivered my babies? Perhaps if he had been our doctor when Mama was carrying that last child...’
‘What happened?’ asked Dominique.
Gwen sighed. ‘When we were young Mama was never well. She was always enceinte, or recuperating after a miscarriage. She had six more children after Gideon, but they all died within hours. Not that she ever complained. I believe she loved my father passionately. But the last time she was brought to bed she did not recover. Papa was heartbroken. I did not understand at the time why he should blame himself, but now that I am married I understand that a man can be too...physical.’ Gwen blushed.
‘And when did she die?’
‘Oh, it must be twelve years since. It was a bad time, we were all at Rotham, we all knew her suffering.’
‘Poor lady,’ murmured Dominique. ‘Perhaps Gideon really is concerned for my health.’
‘How can you think otherwise? You are still fretting over your cousin’s words, is that it? You are worried Gideon wants to be a bachelor again. I do not think he has any such intention.’
‘He did say he had outgrown Max and his circle,’ said Dominique, hopefully.
‘I am sure he has.’ Gwen said slowly, ‘Gideon’s wildness in recent years was more a rebellion against Papa, I think. You see, after Mama died Father changed. I was engaged to Ribblestone at the time, so I never suffered too much from his melancholy, and James, too, was of age and spent most of his time in town, but poor Gideon—Papa tried to turn him into a pattern card. It became even worse when James was murdered in Paris, and then Tante Gwendoline and the duc were guillotined. Gideon remained at Rotham, Father said it was his duty, now he was the heir, but the constraint irked him a great deal. It was no wonder that when he inherited a small fortune he took the opportunity to escape to town. He spent recklessly