Chapter 5 #2
Diana swallowed and put on a hostess’s smile. “I hesitate to disturb you, my lord, but I did want to be sure you had everything you required.”
His eyes rested on her a moment, then moved behind, where she knew he could see her bed, dark, solid, and masculine.
He, on the other hand, was framed by white, pink, and gold.
In dark gray waistcoat and breeches, and with that other essential darkness which surrounded him, he was truly midnight in lace.
“The hospitality of Arradale is perfect as always, my lady.”
Oh, perdition. This had been folly and was now embarrassing, but to rush away and slam the door would make it more so. “We had to use every room, my lord. I hope you are not uncomfortable in such a feminine setting.”
A brow rose. “I believe I have slept in such surroundings before.”
Hades! Diana colored, and hurried into speech. “Your room was my mother’s, of course, before my father’s death. Doubtless I should have it redecorated in a more neutral style.”
“Why not wait, and let your husband choose his setting?”
Diana raised her chin. “You know I have as little intention as you of marrying.”
“Ah, yes.” His eyes rested on hers. “In that case, you should certainly change the room, and your own as well.”
“My own?” She turned and looked, as if something might suddenly be wrong with it.
“Take possession of it for yourself. You are not your father. Stay there.”
She turned back to see him order his valet to move the long cheval mirror in front of her.
Suddenly Diana saw herself, standing in the ornate white doorway.
It hadn’t occurred to her before, but she—trying yet again to be supremely feminine—was dressed in creamy white embroidered in pink, and wore gold and pearls.
She matched his room, and contrasted as sharply with her own behind her as he did with his.
“I don’t want a bedroom in pink and white,” she said to herself.
“You have wealth and power. Your choices are infinite.” A simple gesture of his beautiful hand seemed to open doors all around her.
She was still standing there, looking at herself in her inappropriate setting—lace against midnight—when he said, “Are your hostess’s instincts satisfied, Lady Arradale? I fear we will all be expected to rise early tomorrow to engage in prenuptial festivities.”
She snapped her wits together. “Yes, of course. Good night, my lord.”
He bowed. She was accustomed to bows, but she had the unnerving feeling that the Marquess of Rothgar had perfected every degree of bow. “Good night, Lady Arradale. Though your setting is dark, may your dreams be light.”
He closed the door.
She turned the key.
And may yours be dark, damn you! Even so, she was not angry except because he might have had the last word. Instead, a place deep inside suggested that she leave the door unlocked.
Folly. Utter folly! Had she not decided to keep her distance?
As Clara began to undress her, however, Diana had to accept that when she’d opened that door a part of her had hoped he would continue the earlier flirtation.
How appallingly weak. She’d charted her course and must stick to it!
Yet, as her gown came off, then her stays, Diana couldn’t help playing with wicked ideas.
An unlocked door.
Lord Rothgar invading her chamber in the night.
Invading her bed, touching her with those long, skillful hands.
He would be cool in his mastery. He would never embarrass her with fervor or false passion, and that image of cool mastery sent a shiver through her, a shiver of pure longing.
Perhaps with him she could coolly surrender. Surrender to seduction, and finally experience all the physical mysteries she so longed to know, without losing her dignity or control.
She shivered, and pulled the wrap Clara gave her close around. She must not think things like this. They were wicked, and more dangerously, they could lead her into folly.
And yet, the wicked thoughts would not stop, stirred, she knew, by the peculiarity of having a man there—and such a man—where a spouse should be.
If she hadn’t turned the key, would he have taken that as an invitation?
She had no idea how these things were done.
She shook her head. He had no interest in her.
She could have left the door wide open and slept undisturbed.
And, she told herself, she had no interest in him other than the fact that he was a very attractive man, and she was weary of virginal ignorance.
If she could experience the joining of man and woman once, perhaps it would stop buzzing in her mind and she could concentrate on other matters. Important matters to do with the earldom, and business, and the welfare of her people.
He was right about her room, however. She’d never thought before that it wasn’t truly hers. It was still as her father had left it. She had moved into it, and left it untouched, to help her become what he had been—the earl.
Looking around the sober room, tears stung her eyes, and she could curse the man who had opened her eyes to this. The moment, however, could not be reversed.
She saw that she was trying to be two people—the earl, and the woman. Somehow, for sanity, she had to blend the two, to become a womanly earl. That was the role she had chosen for the rest of her life, and she must embrace it wholeheartedly.
A womanly, virginal earl.
Ridiculous to feel tears spill at the thought.