Chapter 5
Richard woke up with an aching erection. He’d had feverish, wild dreams all night about a feisty vixen with chestnut-brown hair and dark brown eyes. It was one of those dreams where he could smell her hair and taste her lips.
Usually, it happened the other way around. He’d have feverish dreams about the woman, then have a lurid affair with her, and after, he’d sleep like a babe. Somehow, with her, one short tryst was not enough.
He palmed his engorged length, remembering Miss Claremont’s sweet tongue as it played against his. What would her tongue feel like on his cock?
He rolled off the bed in agitation. He stalked to the dressing room and splashed cold water on his face. He needed a good, long swim in the cold stream. Or one long tumble with the actress. Whichever was closer.
He grimaced. She didn’t want him. She’d made that quite clear.
Actually, her words said she didn’t want him while her body screamed something completely different. She was a passionate little vixen in his arms.
Richard groaned. He needed to forget about the actress and move on with his life. He needed to tell his sister about the upcoming betrothal. Although he had trouble understanding how he would be able to wed a woman now when all his thoughts were consumed with Miss Josephine Claremont.
This was a momentary infatuation, he was certain. He just needed to get past the moment. Perhaps after a few more nights together, she would cease being a novelty?
Except that the impudent vixen did not want more nights with him. She’d told him last night that their short interlude was all he was getting.
Well, even better. He could start moving on and concentrating on his betrothal.
Richard was never of a mind that he would keep a mistress while married to another. He knew that plenty of gentlemen did that, but he’d always imagined himself being faithful to his wife. Just like his father was.
But his father had loved his wife. Hadn’t he? He’d died of grief shortly after the viscountess passed, unable to live without his wife.
Was love like that even possible for Richard? He’d never thought he wanted that. But what he did want was a big and boisterous family. And he couldn’t build that while having a mistress on the side.
He could, however, indulge himself with a delectable treat or two before his eventual betrothal. Could he not?
Richard painfully scrubbed his face with cold water, splashed the water down his chest, and went to get dressed for the day.
Whether he would continue relations with Miss Claremont was not within his control now. But some things were.
Richard got shaved and dressed with the help of his valet, then left his room and went in search of his sister. He didn’t know the schedule for the house party. His mind was otherwise occupied. So he asked the butler and learned that everyone was outside having a picnic.
A picnic sounded good to his ears. He needed a breath of fresh air to clear his mind and to rid it of Miss Claremont.
Except it was very difficult to do when the first thing he saw at the picnic was Miss Josephine Claremont brazenly flirting with Lord FitzWalter. A few more gentlemen circled her, looking at her as though she were a goddess and they were her loyal subjects.
Richard couldn’t fault any of them, truly, but he also couldn’t resist making himself known. Since he couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind, the least he could do was remind her of his existence.
He walked up behind her, just when Lord FitzWalter turned away for a moment to refill his glass of wine. “I thought you said you don’t get involved with gentlemen,” he said by her ear.
She wasn’t even startled. Goosebumps on her neck were the only indication that she wasn’t unaffected by his presence. “I don’t.”
“Apologies, gentlemen,” he said as he took her arm and weaved it through his. “But I need to borrow Miss Claremont for a private chat.”
Gentlemen threw withering glances while trying to hide their disappointed faces. Lord FitzWalter turned his head, looking lost. Richard smirked and turned Miss Claremont away from the crowd.
“Then what do you call flirting with Lord FitzWalter?”
She raised her brow. “Are you jealous, my lord?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Flirting doesn’t equal getting involved with a man.” She directed her eyes heavenward, and her voice was filled with exasperation.
“Perhaps you think so. But that is not how men think. Lord FitzWalter is now blabbing to all who would listen that you accorded him special treatment, and by his logic, he is spending the night with you tonight.”