“Your mother says your so-called office used to be a storage room. A boxroom? Is that the right term? Anyway, it was small and dark and cramped, and I can’t for the world imagine how you could write there.”
“I could write there because no one bothered me in it,” he said, giving his brothers a look that neither of them acknowledged. He strolled around the room, noticing the bookcases filled with his favorite books, and one that I had arranged for myself, and only just started to load. “This is very nice, Alice. I like the furniture. I like the colors. And I like that I have an actual window I can look out of while writing. Yes, this is very nice indeed. I will be able to work here.”
“And play,” I said with a little waggle of my eyebrows. Instantly, he looked interested, but since we had decreed a hands-off period until after the wedding, so as to give his bones time to heal, I didn’t investigate that look.
That didn’t stop the tension surrounding us, though. It hummed with electricity, enough that after Bertie hit me up for payment for his part in moving the furniture, and departed to spend it on who-knew-what girl (I swear, the kid was a babe magnet), Gunner looked from me to Elliott and shook his head. “I don’t know how you two do it.”
“It’s not easy,” I said with a sigh.
“You’re a stronger man than I am, Gunga Din,” Gunner misquoted to Elliott. “I couldn’t hold out against someone as lovely as Alice. You’re sure there’s no way you can lie back and let her proceed without you hurting your collarbone?”
Elliott, who had sat at his desk, and was adjusting the placement of his desk pad, and a metal penholder, didn’t bother to look at his brother when he answered, “No, there isn’t, not that it’s any of your business.”
“What about a reverse cowboy?” Gunner said after a few seconds’ thought. “That’s when the girl—in this case Alice—sits on your—”
“Yeah, we know what a reverse cowboy is,” I interrupted quickly, seeing the flash of outrage in Elliott’s eyes. He might have unbent quite a bit since I had met him, but I could tell that discussing our sex life with his brother was going too far. “You can take it as read that since I’m sleeping in the guest room until after the wedding that we tried and decided it was best to let him heal.”
“Well, your loss,” Gunner said.
Elliott was now looking at me, a familiar, steamy glint to his eyes that had my breasts and girl parts suddenly clamoring to be placed immediately in his hands.
“Oh,” I said, feeling my nipples harden under that potent look.
His eyes narrowed until they were thin slits of bright silver, glowing with passion.
My back arched just a little of its own accord. I blamed it on my breasts. They were shameless hussies who desperately wanted Elliott’s notice.
“I feel dirty just standing here,” Gunner said, still looking from Elliott to me and back again.
“You could leave,” Elliott suggested, his voice low and rough and with a quality that seemed to rub along my skin like velvet.
“I almost feel as if I should stay and chaperone you. Who knows what damage you might do to your broken bone if I were to leave and you fulfill that look you’re steaming all over Alice’s body?”
“My body likes his steam,” I cooed, and took a step toward Elliott.
He stood up, his body lines taut and filled with coiled power, his face a mask of desire.
“Oh, Elliott,” I breathed, and prepared to run across the room, unable to resist him any longer.
Gunner caught me on the second step, wrapping an arm around my waist, and hauling me backward toward the door. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You two clearly can’t be left on your own together.”
Elliott made an annoyed sound of deprivation.
“Bad brother! Stay!” Gunner told him, pulling me out of the door. He shoved me through it, then blocked it with his body, saying to me, “Don’t give me that look—you both said he needed time to heal, and it’s only been a week. He needs longer than that. Go do something somewhere else, Alice.”
“But Elliott needs me—”
I could hear Elliott’s footsteps across the wooden floor.
Gunner looked over his shoulder, and flung out a hand, pointing down the hallway. “Flee, sweet maiden! I’ll hold back the beast as long as I can, but there’s no telling how long I can last.”
I waited until Elliott loomed up over his shoulder, then blew a kiss, and dashed off down the hall to the ground floor, chuckling to myself. Gunner was quite right—it had been a near thing, and I made a mental note not to be alone with Elliott again until after the wedding.
That day couldn’t come too soon, and despite the feeling that time was crawling by, the morning of our wedding finally did arrive.
I traipsed into our sitting room wearing the new gauzy, flowery tea dress that I planned on wearing at many a garden party. Rosalyn—as I’d finally decided to call her—had taken me to buy it the day before, and I was very pleased with how girly it made me feel.
Elliott stood with Gunner, who was giving him a once-over. We’d decided to go very informal for the wedding itself, with just the few members of his family who were currently in residence as witnesses, saving the big celebration for a month hence. “Mmrowr,” I told Elliott, taking in just how handsome he looked in his dark suit.
“Thank you, although I should point out that it’s unseemly for the bride to be ogling the best man,” Gunner said, giving Elliott’s tie a tweak.
“That was Elliott’s mmrowr, as you well know,” I told him.
Elliott’s eyes were mercurial with simmering sexual tension. “Turn,” he said.
I made a little pirouette. The layered chiffon of the skirt spun out as I did so.
“Yes,” he said slowly, a catlike smile on his face. “Yes, I will enjoy greatly taking that dress off your nubile and wholly desirable body.”
“Yes, please,” I said, my body instantly one giant erogenous zone.
“Oh, for the love of—thank god this is the last time I have to keep you two chaste,” Gunner said, rolling his eyes as he shooed me toward the door. “Stop teasing my brother, you jezebel. You can’t slake your lusty thirst upon him until he’s been wedded by the government official duly authorized to validate the wedding that I performed over two weeks ago. Now, be off or I’ll tell Mum that you came in to molest him.”
“Tattletale,” I said, mouthing I love you to Elliott.
He growled a low, sexy growl in response.
Gunner slammed the door in my face. I sang a happy little song to myself as I ran downstairs, and waited impatiently for Rosalyn. She made me wait for an hour, confining me to a room that used to be a conservatory, but was now a greenhouse for vegetables and dwarf fruit trees. By the time we arrived at the registry office in Ainston, Elliott and three of his brothers (Gunner, Bertie, and Rupert, whom I had just met the night before) were waiting.
The ceremony itself was quick and anticlimactic. It was over in a matter of just a few minutes, following which we signed the register, and then found ourselves outside in the sunshine, the sense of something lacking lying profoundly over us all.
“Your version of the wedding was much more memorable,” I told Gunner.
“It’s what we in the Church of Jante strive for,” he said complacently, then buffeted the air next to Elliott’s shoulder. “All right, old man, you’re truly tied down now. Happy?”
Elliott took my hand and kissed my fingers, then gave a what-the-hell look, and pulled me into his arms. “Very much so,” he said, his eyes all but stripping me naked. He added in a tone just for me, “And very ready for a second wedding night.”
I touched the hollow at the bottom of his throat. “You’re not hurting?”
“I didn’t say that.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “But my collarbone is healed, yes. It’s been a long two weeks, my lo
ve.”
“Has it ever,” I said on a sigh, and squealed softly to myself when he kissed me with the passion of a man long deprived of such actions.
We had a celebratory lunch in town (enlivened by risqué comments from Elliott’s brothers, and reminiscences by Rosalyn of her own wedding), following which the family went their separate ways, with Elliott and I returning home.
“Race you to the bedroom,” I said as we got out of his car. “We’ve got three hours before the first Ainslie Experience—”
“And last!”
“—kicks off, and the guests arrive, which is just enough time for me to jump your newly healed bones on our brand-new bed.”
“There you are,” a voice called from the house. Patrick strolled out, a tall, elegant woman on his arm. “We wondered where everyone was. Elliott, you’re going t’have t’do better than this if you want people t’shell out four grand for a few nights, not that I object t’doing so, since Jane tells me that you’re in desperate need what with more of the castle falling t’pieces, but really, old man. At least have the paying guests met at the door with a little champagne, and perhaps a few nibblies.”
I looked at Elliott. He looked at me. We both wanted to cry.
“Alice,” Elliott said, pulling himself together faster than me. I really had my heart set on some sexual tension relief. “May I introduce my sister Jane. Other than being cursed with a dubious taste in men, she is normally a very intelligent woman, and I’m sure you’ll like her.”
“Of course I will.” With an effort, I beat down my libido and put out my hand for her to shake. She looked at my hand, looked at Elliott, and then embraced me in a bear hug that was surprisingly strong.
“How nice to meet you at last, Alice. I’ve heard so much about you from Mummy and Gunner. And of course, Patrick, although I don’t for a moment believe half the things he says about you. Elliott would never fall in love with a woman who was no better than she should be.”
Patrick coughed and said quickly, “That’s enough of the polite chitchat, my love of loves. Shall we not see the rooms that you inventively convinced me t’pay for? My man, show us the accommodations.”
“I hope the day comes when I won’t want to punch you in the face for leering at my sister,” Elliott told him, taking my arm to stroll inside. “But until then, you’re welcome to Ainslie Castle.”
“Nice going not rising to the ‘my man’ bait,” I told Elliott in a low tone. “He’s clearly feeling inferior and trying to make you feel like a loser because of it.”
“I’m well used to him throwing around the fact that he’s made a fortune while I have to spend every pound I have on the castle. He won’t get a rise out of me that way. You, however . . .” He pinched my behind, making me squeal loud enough that Jane and Patrick, who were in front of us, turned to see what was going on.
Jane was nice enough, although she spent a good deal of time chatting with Elliott and Patrick, and later the rest of the family as they returned home, about people and things that I had no knowledge of. I did my best to hold up my end while not making it overly clear that I really, really wanted time alone with Elliott, but it wasn’t until Laura arrived that I relaxed.
Until I saw her companion.
“Well, this is a pleasure, isn’t it? It’s quite like we were back on board that dreadful ship,” Deidre said, sashaying in a line straight to Elliott, who had risen to greet the newcomers. She paused to cast a glance around the family’s sitting room, taking in not only Patrick but Gunner and Rupert. She ignored the women present. “Who would have guessed that dear, charming Elliott was a peer? A baron, no less.” She turned back to him and simpered. “I suppose by rights I should curtsy, and say ‘my lord,’ but as we’re old friends—”
She planted her lips right on his, pressing herself against him.
Secure in the knowledge that Elliott loved me, I ignored Deidre and went to Laura, giving her a little hug and telling her how nice it was to see her. “Although I’m surprised at your choice of companion,” I told her, nodding toward Deidre.
She made an exasperated face. “You wouldn’t believe the fuss she made when she found out who Elliott really was. Lord Ainslie, I should say. I suppose I should call you Lady Ainslie, too.”
“Pfft. He’s Elliott, I’m Alice, and you really are a friend, although not an old one.” I took her around the room and introduced her to Elliott’s brothers, sister, and mother before sitting down with her on a small sofa. “So, tell me, how are things in Windsor?”
“Oh, you know, much the same as ever.” She waited a moment until Deidre, with her usual style, dominated the conversation in the room, and then said, “Elliott looks well. Has he recovered from his accident?”
“He has, thankfully.”
“You must be dreading the thought of him going out on more . . . assignments.”
I shifted uncomfortably. The truth was, I’d been meaning to bring that subject up to Elliott, but the time never seemed to be right. “I will admit that I’m hoping he’s going to hang up that particular hat now that we’re married. I mean, most spies don’t like to have families, do they? They’re always used against them in movies.”
“Very definite pressure points.” Laura nodded. “He must have an especially effective security system here in order to protect himself and his family.”
“I think so,” I said slowly. “The windows and doors are all wired up to a system, and you have to punch in a code to turn it on and off, so there’s that. But I don’t think he’s overly worried that he’ll be attacked here. I mean, there’s lots of people around. He has oodles of brothers and sisters, some of whom live and work here, while others drop by for periods when they need a break, or just want to visit.”
“And there are servants,” Laura said, her gaze going around the room. “Their presence must reassure you.”
I looked over at Marie, one of two daughters of Franklin the groundskeeper. Marie served as daily help—doing some cooking and a little light cleaning of the family’s rooms, while her sister, Anne, kept the public rooms tidy. For the Ainslie Experience, I’d promised Marie a bonus in her salary if she helped serve the drinks and meals. She agreed, although she demanded a sexy serving wench outfit for the costumed evenings.
Elliott had told me that although the castle had, in times past, engaged more than a hundred servants, now they mostly did for themselves. It helped that many of the rooms where closed up, the furniture covered, and only aired once a year in summer, when any signs of decay were noted.
“Yes,” I said slowly, wondering how Marie in a wench costume was supposed to make me feel better. I decided that it wouldn’t enhance Laura’s experience to know just how broke the estate was, and how few employees there really were. “They’re a great help.”
“You said you did some redecorating? I imagine that was great fun.”
“It was a blast. So much fun, and I found some wonderful pieces in the attic that just fit perfectly into my vision of the sitting room. Would you like to see it?” I was relieved to be off the subject of servants and, when Laura agreed, took her (and Deidre, who insisted on tagging along) to see the renovated suite. Everyone was duly impressed, even Jane, who had made a disparaging comment about the odds and bobs that had been tossed into the attic.
“This is a lovely room,” Laura said, standing at the window and looking out at the drive. “What a glorious view you must have of the park when the scaffolding isn’t ruining it.”
I made a face at the metal structure that spread across the front of the castle. To be honest, I’d gotten used to seeing it there. “It’s just temporary, and it’s easy enough to see through it.”
“I would find it highly disconcerting to be making love knowing there could be workmen standing on the other side of the window watching everything,” Deidre drawled, running a finger down Elliott’s arm.
“On
the contrary, we’ve found that spectators heighten the sense of forbidden fruit,” he replied, giving her a bland smile.
I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head, and had to smother a sharp bark of laughter at Elliott’s teasing. His eyes were filled with amusement when they met mine.
“Naughty,” Deidre said at last, and followed the others when they exited.
“I think it’s time for dinner. Tonight is just a normal, nonhistorical dinner, and there’s no need to dress up for it,” I told them all, herding them toward the door. “But if you wish to wash up beforehand, we’ll gather in the sitting room in twenty minutes, all right? Do you all know where your rooms are? Awesome.”
I closed the door on the last of them and turned to face Elliott. “Quickie?” I asked.
He pursed his lips in thought, looked like he was about to agree, and reluctantly shook his head. “I think after waiting these endless months, we should take our time.”
“It’s only been two weeks, silly,” I said, and went over to give him a kiss. “You’re right, of course, but all that talk of voyeuristic sex . . . well, enough said.”
He pinched my butt again, and we parted, me to go to my temporary room and take off my wedding clothes, and Elliott to do likewise.
We both tried our best to be witty and entertaining hosts, but the truth was that we so badly wanted to be together, we spent a good amount of the time just sending looks fraught with desire and need down the length of the dining room table. Rosalyn had yielded her spot at one end to me, with a grace that made me feel truly part of a family for the first time in my life. I beamed first at her, then at Elliott, looking with contentment at my new family and friends as they laid into the roast beef that Marie had worked on all day.
The hours passed, neither especially slow nor too quickly. We ate; we strolled around the grounds showing off the garden to the visitors (although Patrick had been to the castle before); we held an informal tour of the house with Elliott and Jane describing all the historic points, finishing the evening with a couple of rounds of billiards, the ladies against the gentlemen (they won, but only because Gunner turned out to be nigh on par with a pool shark).