They ate heartily, with Dorothea tossing an occasional tidbit to the continually begging puppy. Finally realizing he would get no more treats, Lancelot began exploring his surroundings and was soon climbing over Carter’s legs.
“Your dog is attempting to chew the leather tassels on my boots.”
“Oh, gracious, isn’t he a clever boy.” Dorothea reached for the puppy, which instantly rolled onto its back. Unable to resist, she vigorously rubbed his plump, round tummy. Lancelot’s pink tongue lolled to the side, and his breath exhaled in short, eager pants.
“You’re spoiling him,” Carter said mildly, as he took a sip of his wine.
“I’m just being affectionate. All animals deserve attention and love.”
“As do all men?”
She observed her husband beneath lowered lashes, then favored him with a saucy wink. “Some more than others, I believe.”
“He reminds me a great deal of a dog I had when I was younger. A faithful companion and a good friend.”
“Were you a solitary boy?”
“Not especially. I had no siblings to play with, but there were many children on the estate, the son of our gamekeeper, the children of our stable master. My father was usually attending to business and social matters and was therefore unaware of my boyhood associations.”
“Would he have disapproved?”
“Heartily.” His expression unreadable, Carter took a bite of fruit. “I intend to be far more progressive with my own children.”
A flood of warmth invaded Dorothea’s stomach at the mention of children. Their children. Good God in heaven. There would be no little ones running about until she was ready and willing to accept him into her bed.
He reached for her, covering his hand over hers. “Children will come in due time.”
She shut her eyes. Oh, dear Lord. It was not the children, but the creating of them, as they both very well knew, that had thrown her into such a panic. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she whispered.
“Look at me.”
Startled, Dorothea opened her eyes. He rubbed his fingers up and down her arm gently as he lowered his voice. “I can wait. Moments like last night, when you were in the bath and we were both so aroused, so feverish, give me hope.”
Her heart melted. He was a good man, a kind man. A devilishly attractive man. What was wrong with her? She should be counting her blessings and trying to figure out how to entice him into her bed, not deny him-and herself- the pleasure.
Nervously lifting her wineglass, she took another sip, only to find it empty. She hastily refilled it. They spoke of their visit with Mrs. Snidely the previous day, an event they both agreed was thoroughly annoying. Despite an underlying thread of sexual awareness, Dorothea was struck by their easy conversation and companionship.
“I must apologize again for my decision to take tea with Mrs. Snidely,” Carter said before popping a strawberry into his mouth. “I honestly did not know she was so overbearing. I fear the social coup of being the first to host us went straight to her head and thus strengthened her sense of self-importance.”
“An area in which no further encouragement was necessary,” Dorothea agreed. “Though it wasn’t entirely your fault. I was remiss in my social duties. I should have hosted a tea for all the local ladies, thus eliminating the problem.”
“This is my estate. I’m the one who is supposed to know the inhabitants.”
“Men are dismal failures in these sorts of matters. I should have sought Mrs. Simpson’s guidance. She is loyal and levelheaded and would have guided me on the correct path. A lesson learned. For both of us, my lord.”
Dorothea reached for the wine bottle, surprised to discover the bottle was empty. With a puzzled shrug she reached for the second one that Cortland had prepared. Such a marvelous, clever butler. Dorothea chuckled to herself with appreciation.
The cork had been partially inserted back in the bottle to re-seal the wine, making it easy to remove. Well, relatively easy, for it did take her three tries to pull it out. She sipped her wine and asked Carter when he was going to take her fishing again. He smiled, that smile that always made her knees weaken, and teased her about her squeamish attitude.
They once again fell into an easy conversation, like two dear friends delighted to be in each other’s company. Another hour passed. Lancelot woke up, ate a pile of chicken pieces Dorothea had carefully separated from the bone for him, made a game of tugging on the edge of the blanket for a time, then fell back to sleep. Reclining, Carter propped his back against the pillows and stretched his long, muscular legs beside hers.
Dorothea’s breath caught in her chest. There was something so intimate, so relaxed about his pose. They were so close she could see the tiny lines at the corner of his eyes as he gazed lazily at her. A flutter of desire rose inside her. Pushing aside her misgivings, Dorothea answered the passion that was rising inside her, lifted her head, and kissed him full on the lips.
To have her initiate a kiss was heaven itself. Every inch of Carter’s already aroused body tightened as their lips clung together. He had succeeded! She was relaxed and compliant, ready, nay eager, to make love.
His hands slid to the nape of her neck. He could feel her pulse beneath his fingers beating in a quick, rapid rhythm. She kissed him again, this time thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He could taste the wine on her breath, not an unpleasant sensation, but prevalent nonetheless.
Carter pulled back. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, misty with passion. Or something else? She cocked her head and smiled at him, then suddenly put one hand on the blanket as if she needed help keeping her balance. Carter groaned. If not for rotten luck, it seemed he would have no luck at all.
She was tipsy. No-foxed, and if he didn’t miss his guess, close to passing out. He saw the nearly empty second bottle of wine and realized he had only drunk a few glasses from both bottles. His darling wife had consumed the rest. “Are you all right, Dorothea?”
“I feel rather giddy.” She pressed the back of her hand over her eyes. “Which I have come to understand is normal when I am around you.”
She started laughing, a tiny giggle that soon escalated into peals of laughter. Despite his massive disappointment, Carter managed to smile also. Then her laughter abruptly ceased and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him feverishly on the cheek, neck, and throat.
Carter fell backward. His arms rose instinctively and he pulled her with him. She landed square on top of him, her legs between his. His cock rose stiffly in eager anticipation, but his mind knew the truth. Dorothea nuzzled her head against his shoulder, placing wet kisses along his neck. In a few minutes the kisses slowed, then stopped completely. Finally, there was only the sound of a soft, feminine snore.
He wanted to shout and scream in frustration, but that would accomplish nothing except bring the servants running. Hell, the noise wouldn’t even rouse his inebriated wife. Deciding this must be retribution for some of his prior sins, Carter shifted his back so he rested more comfortably against the cushions and gently stroked his sleeping wife’s silken hair.
He waited in vain for a full hour, then finally admitted she was not going to awaken. Lifting her in his arms, Carter carried Dorothea up to her bedchamber. He jostled her deliberately as he set her on the bed, but she never even blinked.
After covering her with the soft blanket, he left to take another swim in the frigid lake.
Chapter Fourteen
Dorothea awoke in her bed, lying flat on her back, clad only in a light shift, her head pounding, her mouth parched. For a full minute she stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to recall how she got to her bedchamber and into her bed, but there were no memories of the event.
Wincing, she lifted her head from the pillow and stared out the window, trying to judge the time. Late afternoon? Early evening? There were only glimmers of dull gray light shining through the closed draperies, and she lacked the energy, and the strength, to walk across the room to open them.
Pressing the heel of her hand to her aching head, Dorothea struggled to recall the earlier events of the day. She
