Owen glanced up from his book to watch his wife being led away by the wives of Lipscombe and Lord Tucker Flynn. She looked a little panicked. He smiled inside. It would be good for her, whatever they were planning to do.
Ever since they’d married and she’d left her sisters, she’d been sorely lacking in female companionship. To be sure, there were plenty of women in his family. But Tabitha, Bethanne, and Jo tended to move as a flock, never really allowing anyone else into their ranks. The other women were either significantly older and married or rather younger and unmarried.
Elaine simply didn’t have all that much in common with the females in his family, which meant she was stuck, more often than not, with Owen to keep her entertained.
He did a damned poor job of it, too, he feared.
Owen still hadn’t discovered just how or why he’d been fortunate enough to win Elaine’s favor-why she loved him-but he said a prayer of thanks for her every day, and tried to show her his love every night.
He had half a mind to follow her and show her right now, but held back. She needed some time for feminine companionship. That, more than anything else, was the reason he’d accepted the Quintons’ invitation this summer.
When Holbrook plopped down in the seat across from him, Owen returned his attention to his book. The earl was far from the sort of company he preferred to keep. If he wanted to occupy himself with drinking, gambling, whoring, and the like, Owen need look no further than his own brother, Toby, back at Ainsworth Court. Unlike Holbrook, however, Toby could at least be excused the continued sowing of his wild oats if one took into consideration his youthful age and opportune lack of wife. Someday, he would become a respectable gentleman-or so Owen hoped. He held out no such expectation for the lecherous Holbrook.
“ Ah, horse breeding again,” Holbrook said, leaning over closer to him. “Haven’t you learned enough about that yet, Raynesford? You’ve hardly done anything this last sennight save read similar books.”
Owen spared the earl a scowl and turned the page.
The Bornholm clock next to the hearth ticked loud in the silence between them.
Holbrook shifted in his chair, adjusting his long legs so they stretched out before him and crossing one ankle before the other. “Pity you haven’t been paying more attention to the lovely Lady Raynesford. I know I have been.”
At that, Owen’s eyes flashed up to meet the lascivious gleam in Holbrook’s cold, black gaze. “Perhaps it would behoove you to pay such attention to Lady Holbrook instead of my wife.”
He slammed his book closed and tossed it to the table before him, then stalked from the suddenly repressive drawing room. Though it was dark out, he headed out through the gardens and made for the mews. A ride would do him good, and Quinton had been adamant that he should feel free to make use of any of his mounts should he see fit.
Only when he was halfway there did he see the folly in his decision. He should have gone straight up to Elaine. He should be making certain that Holbrook didn’t follow through with his implied threats. Turning around mid-stride, Owen took the back stairs two at a time, heading up to the abbey’s old dormitories where he and Elaine shared interconnecting rooms.
Without bothering to knock, he pushed open the door and came to an immediate stand-still. Elaine turned around, wide-eyed, halfway dressed in some gauzy, almost sheer nightrail and stockings. She wore a long string of pearls, wrapped three times around her neck, and her blonde hair was still pulled into its knot above her shoulders-but his wife had nothing else on. She was still pulling the garment into place with the assistance of the two ladies she’d left with.
He caught the briefest glimpse of one lovely, pink nipple before it was swallowed up by the fabric. His heart tripped into his throat at the thought of swallowing such a divine little bud. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, ladies,” Owen choked out. He took a step backward, then forced himself to turn away from the intoxicating sight.
“ No need to leave, Lord Raynesford,” one of her friends called out after him. “Lady Lipscombe and I were just on our way out.” The two dark-haired women scurried past him, the smaller of them turning and winking at him just before closing the door.
For several moments, Owen stood rooted to the floor in just that position. What on earth was going on? Why had they been with Elaine, helping her put on something so delectable and immodest, something so very different from anything she’d worn in his presence before? He fought to slow his pulse, lest he turn around and ravish her more thoroughly than he’d ever done before, though it seemed a lost cause to even attempt such a thing.
“ Owen?” she said timidly from behind him.
The delicate tips of her fingers landed almost imperceptibly on the bend of his elbow, yet he was so alert to her every bewitching movement it felt like a horse had just thrown him. With faint steps, she moved deliberately to stand before him, robbing him of the ability to breathe. The top of her nightrail hung loose, giving him a painfully clear view of her bosom, the pert nipples straining beneath his gaze.
Stretching up on her tiptoes, Elaine pulled him down to meet her lips in a searing kiss. He growled deep in his throat and wrapped his arms tight around her waist, pulling her against the erection already straining at his breeches, but she pushed against him, resuming the previous distance between them.
“ Not so fast,” she murmured, drawing her tongue against the line of his jaw and stretching it beneath his chin. “I thought we’d do things a little differently tonight.”