Madelynne Ellis - Her Husband’s Lover

‘No, you go in to eat. I’ll be fine once I’m rested. Could you please apologise to Father for me? Tell him I have a headache. And ask if Mrs Dobs would be so kind as to send up a tray.’

‘Should I have her send up a tincture of something too?’

‘No, quiet will be remedy enough.’ She gave her sister a weak smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine again tomorrow. I won’t let Father send you to Aunt Maude.’ Then she hurried up the stairs before Amelia could follow. More than her head, her heart ached. And when she mulled over what she’d experienced her womb clenched tight too, as if her body intended to wring every ounce of feeling from the earlier encounter.

All afternoon she’d sat gazing into space waiting for either Lyle or Darleston to approach her. She hadn’t given dinner a thought. How foolish was she? Lord Darleston would be next to her at dinner, with Lyle directly opposite. There’d be no avoiding either of them. Oh, no. She couldn’t face them together like that, not in public where everyone would witness her embarrassment.

Hiding in their room wasn’t ideal, but at least only Lyle would seek her there.

* * *

Dinner calmed her a little, though she didn’t eat a lot. Lyle arrived while she was stirring a spoon around in the mashed-up remains of a lemon tart. He paused in the doorway a moment before sealing them within and striding forward.

‘Why are you hiding? Amelia says you have a sore head.’ He perched upon the foot of the bed, so that the tray of food formed a barrier between them.

She knew they’d seen her, so there was no supposing he didn’t understand her reasons.

‘All right, if you won’t say, then answer me this. Why did you come back, Emma? After he’d frightened you, why return? Did you change your mind about something?’

‘No.’

So he knew Darleston had touched her. She hadn’t considered he might be cross with her for that.

‘Emma.’ Lyle stretched a hand towards her, but stopped short of actual contact. ‘Can we speak plainly for once?’

‘I thought we always did.’ Her words echoed around the room, shrill and defensive.

Lyle shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean you to see that. We should have been more circumspect. I want to apologise if my behaviour has offended or embarrassed you. I’m sure Darleston would like to say the same. However, I have to know why you watched. Why did you stay when you saw what we were about? You could have left.’

‘I – I don’t know.’ Her cheeks prickled with the heat flooding them. Her reflection in the silver teapot bore the hue of a raspberry. Aghast with embarrassment she curled her knuckles against her mouth. ‘I was intrigued, I suppose. I’ve never seen … I’ve never spied on you before. Well, only once.’ And that hadn’t been anywhere near so enlightening. ‘I swear it. And I won’t do so again.’

Lyle’s fingers curled into the eiderdown. ‘I didn’t expect you to make it a habit. Not that I should really mind if you did wish to take pleasure in that way, as long as you warned me of your intention beforehand.’

What in God’s name was he saying? That he would invite her to watch them fornicate?

‘I don’t think … I’m not sure that’s absolutely necessary.’ The fire in her cheeks spread to her ears and her nose.

‘Why is that?’ Lyle pressed. He shifted position so that he sat upon his haunches. ‘Is it because it’s not me you want to watch? It’s Robert, isn’t it? You’re attracted to him.’

Robert she presumed to be Lord Darleston. Robert, she repeated to herself, committing his Christian name to memory. ‘I’m most certainly not.’ She shook her head desperately.

Lyle crowded her, shuffling up close to the wall of crockery between them. ‘You’re the most godawful liar I’ve ever met. Tell the truth, Emma. Do you want to make love to him?’

‘Of course not.’ She shoved aside the tea tray and leapt out of bed. Her limbs and arms were trembling. It took all her coordination and determination to cross to the fireplace. Lyle followed. He loomed over her. Emma risked a peep to find him dusting sugar from his clothing. The remains of dinner lay strewn across the bed. She reached out to ring the bell for a maid, but Lyle blocked the way.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so roused.’

‘I don’t want him like that,’ she insisted, still seeking a distraction from the conversation. The whole bed would have to be stripped and remade before either of them slept. ‘You know my habits. I don’t care to be touched by anyone.’

The harshness of her declaration made it sound convincing, but deep down she wasn’t so sure of her honesty. Omission still constituted lying and a small white lie lay embedded in her words. She didn’t want to be touched, but there was no denying that she wanted to run her palms across Darleston’s form.

Lyle frowned at her, his brown eyes riddled with mysteries. ‘He claims you were staring at his arse. And I saw you staring at his cock. Do you deny that?’

She blustered a moment, her mouth working but no sense coming out. ‘Well – I’ve never seen one before and I could hardly stare at yours, considering where it was embedded,’ she eventually blurted.

Oh, dear heavens, that was quite the most foolish and ridiculous thing to say.

Lyle’s jaw dropped. For what felt like eternity, he stared at her, shock engraved in every line of his face. Then, abruptly, he began to laugh. ‘Emma!’ A deep rolling laugh, which tugged at her lips and made her grin too. He didn’t seem so angry either, once their merriment had died down; instead he seemed intrigued.

‘Well, I think that’s outrageous. That you’ve never seen one, I mean. We ought to rectify that. Can’t have a married woman not knowing what’s what. I know you’d probably rather I brought in Robert, but –’

‘No, no, don’t!’ She couldn’t have him here making things even more difficult. Darleston didn’t understand the rules. And even if he did, she wasn’t certain he’d obey them. She supposed being an Earl’s son made him rather a law unto himself.

‘– but I don’t mind obliging you. Really, Emma, you had only to ask if you were curious.’ Lyle artfully slipped the buttons of his frontfall, drawing her attention fully to him. ‘You can’t have seen much detail out in the woods.’

She’d seen detail enough.

‘Robert’s is very nice, of course. I think you’ll find him a little thicker than I. Although I’m longer.’

She had no response to that. None at all. Flabbergasted, Emma watched him step out of his breeches and raise his shirt-tails. Confusion momentarily wrinkled her brow, for what she saw was not at all like what she’d seen earlier. Lyle’s prick lay curled against his body as if slumbering, while Darleston’s member had stood erect. Yet even as she stood trying to figure it out, change occurred before her eyes. Lyle became stiffer, longer. He woke up and stood proud. The tip peeped out from beneath a hood, rosy and glossy. A slit like a tiny eye was exposed. From it leaked a single shiny tear.

‘How much more do you want to see?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. What is there to see?’ She clasped her hands over her mouth.

‘I can pleasure myself, as if I were inside him. I can bring myself to climax. Women can too if they touch themselves in much the same way. Not all touch is bad, Emma.’

She’d reserve judgement on that. However she didn’t wish to get into a debate at present. Fascination had taken hold. It was nigh impossible not to focus on the slow, steady rhythm of Lyle’s hand rubbing back and forth, up and down the length of his shaft. What a delightful picture he made. It made her feel twitchy inside, hot and irritable but in a pleasant sort of way.