“A little past Twickenham.”
“Oh.” If they were that far out of town, then it was difficult to see how they could return that evening even if he was only joking about not going back. But he had to be joking, surely?
The curricle slowed and Max checked his team for the turn into a beech-lined drive. As they whisked through the gateway, Caroline caught a glimpse of a coat of arms worked into the impressive iron gates. The Delmere arms, Max’s own. She looked about her with interest, refusing to give credence to the suspicion growing in her mind. The drive led deep into the beechwood, then opened out to run along a ridge bordered by cleared land, close-clipped grass dropping away on one side to run down to a distant river. On the other side, the beechwood fell back as the curricle continued towards a rise. Cresting this, the road descended in a broad sweep to end in a gravel courtyard before an old stone house. It nestled into an unexpected curve of a small stream, presumably a tributary of the larger river which Caroline rather thought must be the Thames. The roof sported many gables. Almost as many chimneys, intricate pots capping them, soared high above the tiles. In the setting sun, the house glowed mellow and warm. Along one wall, a rambling white rose nodded its blooms and released its perfume to the freshening breeze. Caroline thought she had seen few more appealing houses.
They were expected, that much was clear. A groom came running at the sound of the wheels on the gravel. Max lifted her down and led her to the door. It opened at his touch. He escorted her in and closed the door behind them.
Caroline found herself in a small hall, neatly panelled in oak, a small round table standing in the middle of the tiled floor. Max’s hand at her elbow steered her to a corridor giving off the back of the hall. It terminated in a beautifully carved oak door. As Max reached around her to open it, Caroline asked, “Where are the servants?”
“Oh, they’re about. But they’re too well trained to show themselves.”
Her suspicions developing in leaps and bounds, Caroline entered a large room, furnished in a fashion she had never before encountered.
The floor was covered in thick, silky rugs, executed in the most glorious hues. Low tables were scattered amid piles of cushions in silks and satins of every conceivable shade. There was a bureau against one wall, but the room was dominated by a dais covered with silks and piled with cushions, more silks draping down from above to swirl about it in semi-concealing mystery. Large glass doors gave on to a paved courtyard. The doors stood slightly ajar, admitting the comforting gurgle of the stream as it passed by on the other side of the courtyard wall. As she crossed to peer out, she noticed the ornate brass lamps which hung from the ceiling. The courtyard was empty and, surprisingly, entirely enclosed. A wooden gate was set in one side-wall and another in the wall opposite the house presumably gave on to the stream. As she turned back into the room, Caroline thought it had a strangely relaxing effect on the senses—the silks, the glowing but not overbright colours, the soothing murmur of the stream. Then, her eyes lit on the silk-covered dais. And grew round. Seen from this angle, it was clearly a bed, heavily disguised beneath the jumble of cushions and silks, but a bed nevertheless. Her suspicions confirmed, her gaze flew to her guardian’s face.
What she saw there tied her stomach in knots. “Max…” she began uncertainly, the conservative Miss Twinning hanging on grimly.
But then he was standing before her, his eyes glinting devilishly and that slow smile wreaking havoc with her good intentions. “Mmm?” he asked.
“What are we doing here?” she managed, her pulse racing, her breath coming more and more shallowly, her nerves stretching in anticipation.
“Finishing your education,” the deep voice drawled.
Well, what had she expected? asked that other Miss Twinning, ousting her competitor and taking total possession as Max bent his head to kiss her. Her mouth opened welcomingly under his and he took what she offered, gradually drawing her into his embrace until she was crushed against his chest. Caroline did not mind; breathing seemed unimportant just at that moment.
When Max finally raised his head, his eyes were bright under their hooded lids and, she noticed with smug satisfaction, his breathing was almost as ragged as hers. His eyes searched her face, then his slow smile appeared. “I notice you’ve ceased reminding me I’m your guardian.”
Caroline, finding her arms twined around his neck, ran her fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve given up,” she said in resignation. “You never paid the slightest attention, anyway.”
Max chuckled and bent to kiss her again, then pulled back and turned her about. “Even if I were your guardian, I’d still have seduced you, sweetheart.”
Caroline obligingly stood still while his long fingers unlaced her gown. She dropped her head forward to move her curls, which he had loosed, out of his way. Then, the oddity of his words struck her. Her head came up abruptly. “Even? Max…” She tried to turn around but his hand pushed her back.
“Stand still,” he commanded. “I have no intention of making love to you with your clothes on.”
Having no wish to argue that particular point, Caroline, seething with impatience, stood still until she felt the last ribbon freed. Then, she turned. “What do you mean, even if you were my guardian? You are my guardian. You told
me so yourself.” Her voice tapered away as one part of her mind tried to concentrate on her questions while the rest was more interested in the fact that Max had slipped her dress from her shoulders and it had slid, in a softly sensuous way, down to her feet. In seconds, her petticoats followed.
“Yes, I know I did,” Max agreed helpfully, his fingers busy with the laces of the light stays which restrained her ample charms. “I lied. Most unwisely, as it turned out.”
“Wh…what?” Caroline was having a terrible time trying to focus her mind. It kept wandering. She supposed she really ought to feel shy about Max undressing her. The thought that there were not so many pieces of her clothing left for him to remove, spurred her to ask, “What do you mean, you lied? And why unwisely?”
Max dispensed with her stays and turned his attention to the tiny buttons of her chemise. “You were never my ward. You ceased to be a ward of the Duke of Twyford when you turned twenty-five. But I arranged to let you believe I was still your guardian, thinking that if you knew I wasn’t you would never let me near you.” He grinned wolfishly at her as his hands slipped over her shoulders and her chemise joined the rest of her clothes at her feet “I didn’t then know that the Twinnings are…susceptible to rakes.”
His smug grin drove Caroline to shake her head. “We’re not…susceptible.”
“Oh?” One dark brow rose.
Caroline closed her eyes and her head fell back as his hands closed over her breasts. She heard his deep chuckle and smiled to herself. Then, as his hands drifted, and his lips turned to hers, her mind went obligingly blank, allowing her senses free rein. As her bones turned to jelly and her knees buckled, Max’s arm helpfully supported her. Then, her lips were free and she was swung up into his arms. A moment later, she was deposited in the midst of the cushions and silks on the dais.
Feeling excitement tingling along every nerve, Caroline stretched sensuously, smiling at the light that glowed in Max’s eyes as they watched her while he dispensed with his clothes. But when he stretched out beside her, and her hands drifted across the hard muscles of his chest, she felt him hold back. In unconscious entreaty, she turned towards him, her body arching against his. His response was immediate and the next instant his lips had returned to hers, his arms gathering her to him. With a satisfied sigh, Caroline gave her full concentration to her last lesson.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Sarah?” Darcy tried to squint down at the face under the dark hair covering his chest
“Mmm,” Sarah replied sleepily, snuggling comfortably against him.