“Ah…” He shrugged. “Well, perhaps it will be that which decides events in your favor. Pel has never struck me, or anyone else for that matter, as the maternal type. Had she longed for children, she would have increased long ago. Now her age is advanced and likely prohibitive to conception.”

“Spencer!” His mother caught his arm and turned bright eyes to meet his. “You are a genius! That is exactly it.”

“What? Which part?”

But his mother had already moved away, her slight shoulders straightened with a determination that made him glad to be exempt from its direction. He did, however, feel bad for his brother and so he moved to Gray’s side as Lord Ansell left it.

“Sorry,” Spencer murmured.

“Why did you bring her with you?” Gray asked, misunderstanding the apology.

“I told you. I was certain this trip would be a bore of heinous proportions. You cannot expect that I would be celibate in addition to that. I would offer to exhaust her from her meddling, but I ache all over, damn it. My arse, legs, arms. Some good I shall be to her, though I am determined to make my best effort.”

Laughing, his brother clapped him on the back and said, “Well, her ‘meddling’ may have been fortuitous.”

“Now I am certain you want a trip to Bedlam. No man possessed of all his mental faculties would say that being caught by his wife with his cock in another woman’s hands was fortuitous.”

Grayson smiled, and Spencer grumbled, “Well, out with it, man. You must explain, so that I may use a like circumstance to my advantage.”

“I would not recommend a like circumstance to anyone. However, in this particular case it allowed me the opportunity to set my wife’s greatest fear at ease.”

“And that is?”

“For only I to know, brother,” Gray said cryptically.

“My dear guests, your attention please!” Lady Hammond called out, tinkling a few keys on the pianoforte for greater effect.

Gerard looked at their hostess and then allowed his gaze to drift to Pel, just as hers moved to meet his. Her wide smile filled him with contentment. An hour or two more, and they could be alone.

“As a bit of training for tomorrow’s scavenger hunt, Hammond and I have hidden two items somewhere in the manse-a gold pocket watch and an ivory comb. Unless the door is locked, or it is one of your bedchambers, any room is a possible hiding place. Please, if you find an item, make it known. I have a treat in store when the hunt is over.”

Moving to his wife, Gerard was preparing to take her arm when she arched a wicked brow and stepped back. “If you hunt me instead, my lord, we will enjoy ourselves more than we would the watch or comb.”

Instantly, Gray’s blood both quickened and heated. “Minx,” he whispered so as not to be overheard. “Put me off before dinner and then make me chase you for it afterwards.”

The curve of her lush mouth deepened. “Ah, but I am your minx, which is just how you want me.”

The low growl that escaped him could not have been contained if he’d tried. Everything primitive in him responded to her verbal acquiescence to his ownership. The desire to toss her over his shoulder and find the nearest bed was both embarrassing and arousing. The sudden darkening of her eyes told him that she understood what beast she’d stirred and welcomed it. Welcomed him. How was it possible that he had found a wife both genteelly raised and a tigress in bed?

His smile was feral.

She winked and turned on her slippered heel, strolling out of the room with the other guests, her hips moving with an exaggerated swing.

He gave her a few moments head start, and then he pursued her in earnest.

Isabel followed Gray surreptitiously, avoiding both his gaze and the other guests. She should have allowed him to catch her half an hour ago, but she so enjoyed watching his sultry stride and flexing ass. Lord, her husband had the most beautiful ass. And that walk. It was the walk of a man absolutely certain he would be fucking shortly. It was languid and loose-limbed. Irresistible.

He was coming back around again and this time she would draw him in, her blood as hot as she was certain his must be. Focused as she was on Grayson, she failed to register the form behind her until a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was dragged back into hiding.

Only when Rhys spoke and she knew her abductor did she cease her startled struggling, her heart still racing. He released her and she rounded on him.

“What the devil are you doing?” she whispered crossly.

“I was about to ask the same of you,” Rhys retorted. “I overheard the dowager Lady Grayson telling Lady Hammond about your pact.”

Isabel winced. How had she forgotten about that? “Dear God.”

“Exactly.” He glowered down at her, every inch the chastising older brother. “Bad enough you would even speak aloud of leaving Grayson, but to say it to his mother who is now spreading the tale. What were you thinking?”

“I was not thinking,” she admitted. “I was distressed and spoke rashly.”

“You chose to marry him. You must now live with that choice as all women of your station do. Can you not find a way to coexist?”

She nodded rapidly. “Yes, I think we can. We have agreed to make the attempt.”

“Oh, Bella.” Rhys sighed and shook his head, his disappointment tangible, flooding her with guilt. “Did you not learn to be practical with Pelham? Carnal craving is not love or even the prelude to it. Why must you be so set on romance?”

“I am not,” she argued, looking away.

“Hmmm…” He caught her chin and dragged her gaze back to his. “You lie, but you are a grown woman and I cannot make your decisions for you. We shall just leave it at that. But I worry over you. You are too sensitive, I think.”

“We cannot all have hearts of steel,” she grumbled.

“Gold.” His smile faded as he expressed his concern. “The dowager is not a woman to take lightly. She is determined, although I do not know why. You are a duke’s daughter and a fine pairing for any peer. If you make a true match with Grayson, I cannot see the objection.”

“No one makes her happy, Rhys.”

“Well, she will find her path damned uncomfortable if she thinks to tangle with our pater, and he will intercede, Bella.”

Isabel sighed. As if their pasts and personal issues were not dilemma enough, she and Grayson had external combatants as well. “I shall speak to her. For all the good it will do.”

“Good.”

“There you are,” Gray purred behind her, the moment before his hands cupped her waist. “Trenton. Do you not have a watch to hunt?”

Rhys sketched a slight bow. “I believe I do.” His parting glance at Isabel spoke volumes, and she gave a slight nod before he turned about and moved down the gallery.

“Why do I feel as if the mood for play is lost?” Gray asked when they were alone.

“It is not.”

“Then why are you so tense, Pel?”

“You could correct that.” She turned in his arms.

“If I knew the cause,” he murmured. “I’m certain I could.”

“I wish to be alone with you.”

Nodding, he led her toward their wing, but when she heard voices approaching, Isabel pulled him into the nearest room. “Lock the door.”

With the drapes closed, the room they entered was so dark she could not see, which was just what she wanted at the moment. She heard the lock click into place.

“Gerard.” Turning, she surged into him, her hands slipping beneath his jacket to embrace his lean waist.

Caught off guard, Gray stumbled backward until he hit the door. “Christ, Isabel.”

She lifted to her tiptoes and buried her face in his neck. How she loved the feel of him!

“What is it?” he asked gruffly, his arms coming around her.

“Is this all we have? This craving?”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

She licked along his throat, consumed by a fever for him in her blood. She had never surrendered to him. Not completely. Perhaps it was that last bit of resistance which goaded his pursuit. If so, she needed to know that now. Before it was too late.

Cupping his ass, Isabel rubbed her body against his.

He shuddered. “Pel. Do not provoke me thusly here. Let’s go to our room.”

“You seemed game for the chase earlier.” She kneaded along his spine through the thin satin back of his waistcoat. All the while she pressed into him, her breasts to his chest, her belly to the rigid length of his cock.

The darkness was freedom. All there was in her world at the moment was the large body she desired, the smell of Gray, the deliciously raspy voice, warmth. Heat. Need.

“You were playful then. I anticipated a bit of fondling, stolen kisses.” He gasped as she stroked him through his trousers, but he did not stop her. “Now you are…you are…Bloody hell, I’ve no notion what you are, but it requires our bed, my cock, and uninterrupted hours.”

“What if I cannot wait?” she breathed, squeezing the thick head of his shaft through her glove and his broadcloth.

“You would have me take you here?” His voice was thick with lust. “What if someone should come? We’ve no idea what room we are in.”

Her fingers worked at the placket of his trousers. “Someplace unused, since there is no fire in the grate.” She hummed her pleasure as he sprang free, hard and straining. “I am offering you the opportunity to take me in a public arena, as you said you were quite capable of doing.”

He caught her wrist, but undeterred, her other hand reached around and squeezed his ass. Enflamed, he growled before twisting swiftly so that she was against the door. “As you wish.”

As his hands delved beneath her skirts, he bit hard at her shoulder.

Her head drifted to the side as he parted her and stroked her clitoris. She widened her stance shamelessly and reveled in his expertise. He had once spent hours fucking her with his fingers and his tongue, determined to know every nuance of her body’s ability to orgasm.

“What has possessed you? What did Trenton say to you?” His long fingers slipped inside her, stroking skillfully. Wetness spread across her flesh at the point where his bared cock thrust impatiently against her. “Jesus, Pel. You are soaked.”

“And you are dripping semen down my leg.” She shivered with the first stirrings of release, every part of her aching for more than just this. “Take me. Please. I want you.”

As she had hoped, it was the last words that moved him. He cupped the back of her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Isabel reached between them and guided him to her, moaning in near delirium as he lowered her onto his jutting cock.

Gray leaned forward, his chest moving against hers in harsh, uneven breaths. She held him, breathed him in, absorbed the feel of his weight against her, his thickness inside her.

Did you not learn to be practical with Pelham?

“Is this all that we have?”

“Isabel.” He nuzzled against her throat, his open mouth hot and wet against her. A hard shudder coursed through his frame when she tightened around him. “I pray this is all we have, for I cannot survive any more than this.”

Pressing her cheek to his, she moaned softly as he moved. Withdrawing. Sliding back inside. Slowly. Savoring.

“More.” It was not a request she made.

He paused, tensing.

“Damn you,” Gray muttered finally, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. “Can I ever pump deep enough? Can I ever fuck you enough? Sate you enough? Will I ever be enough?”

Bending his knees, he increased his pace, thrusting high and hard and deep, until she felt him in her throat. Startled by his sudden vehemence, she could say nothing.

“Is this all we have, you ask? Yes!” He rammed her into the door, bruising her spine, pinning her there. Making her cry out softly with pleasure and pain, unmoving except for the heated length throbbing inside her. She writhed and scratched at him, on the edge. She clung to his shoulders, his hips, trying to move, but there was no way. “You and I and no one else, Isabel. If it drives me into the grave, I will find a way to be what you need.”

In her heart, warmth unfurled. Gray was not like Pelham. He was open and honest. His passion was real and truly heartfelt.

Perhaps she was not practical when it came to marriage, but with her husband she had no need to be. “I want to be what you need, as well. Desperately.” She made the admission without fear.

“You are.” He pressed his sweat-dampened face against hers. “For God’s sake, you are everything.”

“Gerard.” Her fingers tangled in his silky hair. “Please.”

He moved, building a steady rhythm and maintaining it. She allowed him the lead, becoming limp except for the inner muscles she tightened around his pumping cock. He grunted at every tight squeeze. She moaned with every deep plunge. There was no race to the finish, only a giving, one to the other, using their knowledge to ensure the greatest pleasure.