Virginia Heath - Regency Rogues - Wicked Seduction

But he hadn’t. Have you ever seen a man go to his death petrified and screaming? Imagining the horror of what he had described was almost too awful to contemplate, but she now knew that he had witnessed such things and that they had hurt him. Deeply. And he still carried all of that hurt around with him. She was sure of it. Connie had seen his pain with her own eyes, felt the power it had over him for a split second before she had watched him cover it as if it did not matter. Almost as if it had not happened at all. Like her, she now had to entertain the prospect that he also wore a face in public that was quite different to the one he wore when he was alone with himself. Oddly, she felt almost privileged to have seen that.

By the time that she was dressed in a fresh nightgown and sat on a low footstool in front of the fire so that her unruly, thick hair could dry, Connie was feeling quite unsettled. She supposed that it was unsurprising as it had been a taxing day. Despite the revelations about the failing health of Viscount Ardleigh and the new and burning questions she now had concerning Aaron’s experience on the battlefields, at least there was now a light at the end of the tunnel. He had agreed to an annulment, even if she did have to wait a few months for the proceedings to begin. She could make plans for a new life somewhere where she was not a duty or a burden. That had to be a good thing, didn’t it? As her husband was being quite generous, Connie made a silent vow to behave more benevolently towards him going forward. It must be difficult to sit by and watch the demise of a parent whilst pretending that all was well. If nothing else positive came out of this travesty of a marriage, at least she could ease his burden on that score just a little bit. She hated all of this forced inactivity and lack of purpose. It would be better to do something.

Connie tipped her head forward and drew her brush through the underside of her hair. It always took such a long time to dry. If she had had any sense she would have delayed washing it until the morning. Now, she would have to wait up another hour. The light tap on the door startled her at first, but assuming that it was a maid come to see if she needed anything before she retired for the night, Connie did not move from her spot by the fire.

‘Come in.’

She heard the door open and footsteps approach, but the maid never said a word. Flipping her hair back to its proper place, Connie turned towards her with a smile.

Aaron had never seen quite so much magnificent hair in all of his life. Unbound, it hung all the way down to her waist in sensual, copper waves that positively glowed in the firelight as if they were burning from within like the hot embers crackling in the hearth. In places it was still slightly damp, he noticed, making some of the heavy tendrils appear almost chestnut brown in a sea of swirling red. Her skin was rosy from her bath and he found himself wondering exactly what lay beneath that chaste and proper nightgown.

‘What do you want?’

Her initial smile had been replaced by a look of bewilderment. Aaron watched her eyes flick towards the cut-crystal balloon glasses he held in one hand, then to the brandy decanter he held in the other. It occurred to him that her hair and the brandy were much the same colour and both were enhanced by the firelight.

‘If I am trying to pretend to my father that I am impregnating you, I cannot do that from down the hall. Besides, my father will be kept informed of our nocturnal habits by the servants. You are going to have to put up with my company every evening from now on. Just to put on a convincing show, of course.’ In an attempt to divert his attention away from the alluring sight of her sat by the hearth and the embarrassing topic of the conversation, he set the two glasses on the small table near the sofa and began to pour a healthy amount of the amber liquid into them. Bizarrely, his hand shook slightly.

‘Yes, of course. That does make sense.’

Aaron made the mistake of turning towards her as she slowly rose from her low position on the footstool. Fortunately, she was unaware of the fact that, with the firelight behind her, the gauzy material of the voluminous nightgown became more translucent. It no longer took his imagination to wonder what lay beneath. The dark silhouette of her lithe body was illuminated like a cameo. Aaron could make out the gentle mounds of her shadowed breasts, the trim waist and the seductive curve of her hip. His eyes moved lower, taking in the unbelievably long, shapely legs and felt his breath quicken. Unwanted images of those legs wrapped around him filled his mind and the memory of the silky feel of the skin on her thigh came back to haunt him, forcing him to take a large gulp of his brandy to cover his reaction. A little startled, he turned away from her and pretended to take in the room.

He sensed when she came up alongside him. The fragrance of her perfume wafted under his nose, exactly the same heady fragrance he had first smelled that fateful night in the library where they had lost their heads. The sultry undertones of rose were more intoxicating than the alcohol he held clenched his hand. Quite why she was having such an effect on him, he could not say. His body had shown no interest in any woman in the better part of a year. Apart from her. That one time. But now, apparently, it had decided to reawaken. Aaron hastily sat in one of the large armchairs to disguise the fact that half of the blood in his body had suddenly just rushed to his groin.

How inconvenient. For the sake of appearances, he would have to visit her here almost every evening for as long as was necessary to maintain the ruse. Was he now doomed to suffer through these visits in a state of complete and unwelcome arousal as well? He had promised the girl an annulment so he could hardly take her to bed. But he wanted to.

That came as a shock. He wanted to bed his wife and he couldn’t. Fate certainly had a warped sense of humour.

Connie picked up the other brandy glass and perched in the chair opposite him, feeling at a distinct disadvantage. He was perfectly dressed, as usual, without a single dark hair out of place. She was naked under her nightgown, with all of her own unruly hair twisting into its usual tangle of brambles all around her shoulders. If she hastily plaited it now it would appear that she was bothered to been seen in such a state and he would find her vanity amusing. He would assume that she had wanted to improve her appearance just for him. Therefore, she had to appear as unaffected by this intimate intrusion into her private quarters as he was, despite the fact that she had never been so aware of her own body before or wished that she was wearing several protective layers of protective clothing under her nightgown. To cover her embarrassment, she took a sip of her brandy and felt the liquid burn a warm path down her throat. When the brandy hit her stomach she found the warmth it created there strangely calming, so she drank a little more. ‘If we are going to be thrust together like this for the next few months, we might as well get to know each other better.’ Clearly the drink was also making her bolder as well.

Connie watched fascinated as he cupped the bowl of the glass in his palm and swirled the golden liquid around. ‘I agree. We can hardly spend the next few months arguing. That will soon become quite wearing. Shall we begin by asking each other some simple questions?’ He was smiling that lazy, slightly flirtatious smile again. ‘Shall I begin? What is your favourite colour?’