Page 32 of Surrender to the Earl (Brides of Redemption #2)

A udrey was swept up in the urgency of his kiss, heard a gasp at the door, and then heard it shut, but that all seemed distant and unimportant.

Against her mouth, Robert whispered, “Do these feelings mean nothing to you? Are you trying to deny that we’re drawn to each other?”

“I—I—” She could barely think, barely remember to breathe. Her head whirled with the passion that made her throw her arms around his neck and hold on as if she depended on him to even stand.

Then the room seemed to spin as Robert lifted her off her feet and set her on the edge of the table, bending over her until she was flat on her back.

He stood between her thighs, only their garments separating them.

He kissed his way down her neck and to the edge of her bodice, his tongue dipping between her breasts.

She didn’t know she could feel such passion and desire, for her husband had never even tried to fan those flames.

And then she felt Robert’s hands moving beneath her skirts, trailing up her calf that was only covered by the sheerest stocking.

It made her squirm, but it didn’t tickle, not exactly.

And her squirm made her rub her hips against his, and he groaned.

She knew what he wanted, what a man wanted to do with his … hips.

His hands moved higher, both of them now lifting her knees, spreading her thighs, placing her feet on the table for support. For a wild moment, she wondered if he would try to take her right on the table. Would she be able to stop him—did she want to stop him?

Her skirts and petticoats fell around her hips, and his big hands rested on her knees.

“Robert …” Her voice was a whisper, and she couldn’t think of any other words.

He began to caress the inside of her thighs across the fabric of her drawers, sliding ever closer, an inch at a time, to the intimate depths of her. She felt … hot and aching and desperate for something she had no name for, had never known she could even want.

And still his hand kept moving, until her breathing was ragged gasps and her legs trembled. Those magical fingers met in the center, the most private part of her. Nothing had ever felt so sinful, so wondrous. And then he slid his finger inside the slit of her drawers and felt the wetness of her.

She clamped her hand over her mouth to smother what might have been a scream.

She felt him looming above her, his fingers still teasing and circling and probing inside her.

His hair brushed her chin, his tongue slid down the short length of her cleavage.

When he put his free hand in her corset and pulled down, she felt her right breast spill free from restraint.

And then his mouth was there, drawing her nipple into its hot recesses, licking her?—

And she came apart inside in a tiny explosion that rocked her into a shuddering, seething mass of heat and pleasure.

With a groan, she felt the satisfaction move through her, turning all her muscles into useless tissue.

Robert’s hot breath fanned her nipple again before he kissed it, and it made her tremble with another arrow of scorching pleasure.

He slowly straightened, and she felt his hands slide back up her thighs, pulling her layers of skirts up and over. Her feet seemed to fall bonelessly to the floor. He took both her hands to pull her upright.

She’d lost the capacity for speech, not knowing whether to be embarrassed or grateful for an experience her own husband had never even tried to give her on their wedding night.

Or she could be angry.

Robert didn’t do this just to pleasure her, to give her a gift.

“That wasn’t fair,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

He drew in a sharp breath. “What are you talking about? I wanted to make you feel good, to show you what we can share forever.”

“No, you wanted to get your own way, to control me.”

“I did not?—”

“You used my body against me, knowing I couldn’t even begin to understand what you were doing.”

“You were married once.”

“And you surely guessed from all I told you that Martin was not a man who cared to show me any kindness once he had what he wanted—and no pleasure either.”

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“Maybe not. But this was still badly done of you. I don’t want another man who thinks he can control me—or abandon me in some drafty castle.”

“Abandon you?” His voice rose in anger. “I am not Blake.”

“And I won’t be a countess in a castle, when I can barely move around this small cottage unassisted.”

“That’s not true. You’re doing fine on your own. You’re just letting this situation with your staff unnerve you. If you’d just let me be your husband, protect you and care for you?—”

“I don’t want to be taken care of!” she interrupted. “Do you not see what you’re trying to do?”

“I’m trying to propose!”

“And I’m saying no. Please step away from the table.” She rose up, mortified that her legs felt shaky and not her own. He’d done that to her, made her body more his than hers, since he knew what to do with it, how to coerce and seduce her. “I need you to leave, Robert.”

“Audrey—”

“Just … give me a few days. I need to think, and I can’t do that right now.”

“Very well,” he said stiffly. “You think about what I said, what we feel for each other, how things could be between us.”

“Oh believe me, I see how things could be,” she said bitterly.

He sighed. “Don’t, Audrey. Don’t turn a thing of mutual pleasure into something sordid.”

“You did that, Robert, not I. Please go now.”

She heard the doors of the dining room open, felt a current of cooler air, and heard his footsteps fade away into the front of the house.

She couldn’t cry. Except for during Molly’s illness, she hadn’t cried since she put the death of her baby behind her, forbid herself to wallow in self-destructive grief.

But oh, she ached inside with confusion and pain.

Was Robert just trying to show her how he felt in a way he couldn’t say with words? Before coming to Rose Cottage, she had only known one other man unrelated to her, and his words and caresses had been lies. How was one to know the difference?

She’d asked Robert for time to think, and that had been the right thing to do. She had to wait for this passion and grief to leave her, so that she could consider everything rationally.

But inside, she felt … different, changed, new to herself. And she wasn’t certain this knowledge was a good thing.

Audrey didn’t sleep well that night. Too many times, she awoke with Robert’s scent in her nose, or the memory of his hands working magic on her body. Lethargic and sad the next morning, she was frustrated with her mind and body for being unable to forget, and craving that sensation again.

Hard work would make her forget, and she didn’t need Robert for that, or even a pair of working eyes. She decided to inspect Evelyn’s cleaning and could tell with her nose and fingers that at least the dirt was swept up and the furniture polished.

While she was in the middle of lifting a corner of the drawing room rug to feel beneath, she heard the light tap of Evelyn’s shoes.

“Ma’am, is somethin’ wrong?”

“Just doing a little inspection, Evelyn,” she said pleasantly. “Should I have a reason to be concerned?”

“N-no, ma’am,” the girl answered.

Audrey frowned. “You don’t need to fear me, Evelyn, you know that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

The maid’s nervous behavior lingered in Audrey’s thoughts as she went into her study and found the most recent ledger. Robert had gone over it, but she wanted to hear the numbers herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him where her household was concerned; she simply wanted to rely on herself.

She took the ledger up to Molly’s room, and she could tell by the maid’s voice that she was standing at the window.

“I’m up and about more and more, Miss Audrey,” Molly said.

Her happiness was almost contagious, and Audrey found herself smiling for the first time all day.

“You are so anxious to begin work again?” Audrey asked.

“It’s not work when I help you. What do you have under your arm, miss?”

“The current household ledger. I know Robert looked it over, but I would like to hear the expenditures myself.”

“I don’t have a table, miss, but come sit with me on the edge of the bed, and we’ll see what we see.”

Audrey listened as Molly slowly read through the story of the household, from grocer to butcher to oil man. As the maid read through the servants’ wages, Audrey found herself frowning.

“I could swear Mrs. Sanford’s wages are thrice the amount Mr. Drayton read aloud to me.”

“It’s not my place to say, Miss Audrey, but I did think her wages quite high for the housekeeper and cook of a small manor house.”

“But the point is, I believe Mr. Drayton misled me.”

“But … you said Lord Knightsbridge looked over these accounts just the other day.”

“He wouldn’t know a servant’s wages,” Audrey said distractedly. “He has men of business who handle all his accounts.”

Molly said nothing, as if she knew Audrey had to think through all this herself. But Audrey couldn’t think—her mind was churning with confusion. Who was trying to deceive her? Mr. Drayton? The Sanfords? What was going on?

She was standing before she even realized it.

“Miss Audrey? What do you mean to do?”

“Find out the truth,” she said coldly, then left Molly’s room.

She found Mrs. Sanford alone in the kitchen, making preparations for luncheon.

“Good mornin’, Mrs. Blake,” the woman said.

Audrey thought the housekeeper’s voice sounded cautious, but then maybe she knew something important was happening just by Audrey’s expression.

“Mrs. Sanford, we need to have a frank discussion.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

But she could still hear a rhythmic scraping, as if the woman was stirring something in a bowl, and her temper snapped. “Please stop what you’re doing at once!”

The bowl hit the wooden table. “Aye, ma’am. Please forgive me.”