She shook her head. "I really must go out." Stepping back into her room, she expected him to follow, but he did not.

"Very well." Gray sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Will you be taking dinner in your room?"

"Yes."

"I have some tasks to attend to, then I will return and watch you prepare. I hope you have no objections. A man must find his pleasures where he can."

"No, I have no objections." She was beginning to realize that the thought of him finding pleasure elsewhere was highly disturbing.

"Until later then." He pulled the door closed, and Isabel stared at the portal for long moments after he had departed.

Over the course of the next few hours, she bathed and ate a light meal. Normally she would gossip with Mary during her toilette. Servants knew the prime bits, and she liked to hear them. Today, however, Isabel was quiet. Her mind was occupied with the events of the afternoon. She knew some of the women in her home today were intimately familiar with her husband. Over the last four years, she had met those same women many times and thought nothing of it. Now it bothered her to such an extent, she could not stop thinking about it.

Worse than that, though, were the new women, the ones not in his past, but in his future. The ones who had come to bat their eyelashes, touch his arm, and smile with carnal promise. Every one of them so certain Isabel would not mind. Why would she? She had Hargreaves, and she had never minded before. Fact was, she did mind. Knowing one of those women would soon share Gray's bed made her blood simmer. Dressed only in her chemise and underbust corset, she was nevertheless overheated by her thoughts and frustration.

She closed her eyes as her abigail swept her hair up, and arranged it in the popular style of short curls around her face. There was a slight knock at the door, and then it opened without further ado. The presumptive move was slightly disturbing, but what bothered her most was the direction from whence the sound came. Opening her eyes, she looked to the side, and watched Gray enter from the adjoining bedroom.

"What...?" she sputtered.

He took a deep breath, and then sprawled on her favorite chaise. "You look ravishing," he said, as if it were perfectly normal for him to enter from the master suite. "Or more aptly, ravishable. Is that a word, Pel? If not, it should be, with your likeness rendered next to it."

From the time they had married, he had kept a room down the hall and around the corner from hers. She had offered to take a suite in the guest area, since this was his home and their marriage a sham, but he had pointed out how much more time she spent at home than he did. Which was true. She slept in her bed every night. Gray sometimes did not sleep in his room for days on end.

The thought sparked her temper. "What were you doing in there?"

He blinked innocently. "Whatever I felt like. Why?"

"There is nothing in there besides empty furniture."

"On the contrary," he drawled. "Most of my possessions are in there. At least the ones I use on a regular basis."

Her fingers curled around the edge of her vanity. The thought of Gray sleeping mere feet from her, with only a door to separate them, was instantly arousing. She pictured his body nude, as she had seen it in the tailor's. She wondered if he slept facedown, with those powerful arms wrapped around a pillow and that luscious, tight a.s.s bare to her view. Or perhaps faceup? The feel of his c.o.c.k was imprinted on her derriere from last night. The long, hard heat of him...Bare...Gray's beautiful body sprawled in sleep...Tangled in sheets...

Oh Lord...

Swallowing hard, she looked away from him before he could read her thoughts or see her turmoil.

"Bartley inherited a chicken."

"Beg your pardon?" Isabel's eyes moved to her husband's again. As he had the night before, he was dressed in loose trousers and shirtsleeves, a tempting sight, which she was certain he knew. They would have to deal with his changing rooms eventually, but she did not have the heart to tackle the argument now. She already had an altercation ahead of her when she met with Hargreaves.

"Bartley's aunt was an eccentric," he replied, his voice directed upward as he moved to lie on his back. "She kept a chicken as a pet. When he last visited her, she was so pleased with her chicken he felt it best to agree and say that it was the handsomest chicken he had ever seen."

"A handsome chicken?" Her lips twitched.

"Quite." She could not miss the smile in his voice. "When she pa.s.sed on, she bequeathed portions of her estate to her many relatives and-"

"Bartley was given the chicken."

"Yes." Gray's laughing eyes met hers in the mirror as she stood to don her gown. "No, don't laugh, Pel. This is serious, you know."

Her abigail smothered a giggle.

"Oh, of course," Isabel said gravely, schooling her features.

"The poor creature is mad for Bartley. But then I do believe chickens have pea-sized brains."

"Gray!" she cried, laughing.

"Apparently he cannot go into his rear garden any longer. The moment he steps outside, she begins screeching for him." Gray leapt to his feet in a fluidly graceful motion, and held out his arms. "She runs at him with her wings spread in joy, and flies into her lover's arms."

Both she and her abigail laughed aloud.

"You are fabricating that tale!"

"I am not. While I do admit to having a wild imagination," he said, coming toward her, "even I could not imagine any female mad for Bartley, poultry or otherwise."

Gray smiled at her maid. "I can take over from here."

Mary curtsied, and left.

Isabel's smile faded as he came up behind her, and began to work on the tiny row of cloth-covered b.u.t.tons that ran up her spine. She held her breath, trying not to smell him. "We were doing so well, Gray," she complained. "For a moment, I felt the friendship we had before. Why ruin it by reminding me of this d.a.m.ned attraction?"

His fingertips drifted over her chemise-covered upper back. "Gooseflesh. You have no notion of how difficult it is for a man to stand this close to a woman he desires, to feel that desire returned, and then not act upon it.

"Friends," she insisted, secretly amazed at the steadiness of her voice. "That is the only way to make this marriage work."

"I can be your friend, as well as your lover." His hot, open mouth pressed against the top of her shoulder.

"And what will become of us when we are no longer lovers?"

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Gray set his chin on her shoulder and stared at their reflection. He was so much taller than she was. He had to hunch over her, surrounding her completely.

"What do you want me to say, Isabel? That we will always be lovers?"

His hands pushed down her loose bodice and cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, kneading gently, his hips swirling against her derriere. The fierce evidence of his desire was unmistakable, and heat spread instantly across her skin. She was primed for s.e.x, her body repeatedly aroused by his seductions, and her eyes slid closed on a low moan.

"Look at us," he urged. "Open your eyes. See how flushed we are, how needy." Strong, nimble fingers tugged at her nipples. "I know I could make you come like this, still fully clothed. Would you like to come, Isabel?" He licked her sweat-misted skin. "Of course, you would."

Afraid to see herself in his arms, she shook her head.

Gray shifted, his hips aligning so he could rub his c.o.c.k against her, up and down, the hard length making her sob in near desperation. He worked her nipples, elongating them, pulling and twisting until she cried out in pleasure. She felt every motion of his fingers as if they were between her legs, her c.u.n.t creamy and aching for him.

"I cannot say we will always be lovers." His gruff voice skittered across her skin, making her nipples tighten further. He groaned. "But I can tell you that if my l.u.s.t for you were half the measure it is now, I would still want you desperately."

She knew he would still want someone else, too. Even when he'd been in love, he had not been steadfast. Despite this knowledge, her back arched, thrusting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s into his hands and her b.u.t.tocks against his bone-hard erection. Gray growled-a deep, throaty warning. "Stay home with me."

The temptation to do so was nearly overwhelming. She wanted to push him to the floor, sink her body onto his c.o.c.k, and ride out this agitation.

"I never once wanted you," she moaned, undulating in his embrace, every part of her straining. She was almost mad with desire, prepared to throw aside everything she held dear to take him. But some of her reasoning would not be denied. "Not once did I ever look at you, and think about sharing your bed."

Now she could not stop thinking about it.

Forcing her eyes to open, Isabel stared at the mirror and watched herself writhe between his skilled hands and hard body. At that moment she hated herself, hated seeing an echo of the girl she had been almost a decade ago, helpless in the grip of a desire skillfully crafted for a man's pleasure.

Gray's arms tightened, pinning her tightly to his chest. His mouth, hot and wet, nuzzled all over her throat and shoulder. "G.o.d, I want to f.u.c.k you," he rasped, the clasp of his fingers becoming a hard pinch. "I want that so badly I'm afraid I will tear you apart."

The crudeness of his speech was more than she could tolerate. With a cry, she climaxed, her c.u.n.t spasming so hard her knees nearly gave way. Gray held her upright, his hold strong and steady.

Panting, Isabel turned her gaze away from her wanton reflection and sought out Pelham's likeness. She looked into dark eyes that had once drawn her into s.e.xual decadence, and she called to mind every one of his mistresses. She remembered every occasion where she had been forced to sit across from one of them at a social function or to smell their perfume on her husband's skin. She thought of all the women who had been in her home today with their come-hither smiles, and her stomach roiled violently, dousing her ardor instantly.

"Release me," she said, her voice low and determined. She straightened, shrugging him off.

He stiffened behind her. "Listen to your breathing, and the rapid beat of your heart. You want this as badly as I do."

"I do not." She struggled in near panic until he released her with a curse. Then she spun on him with her fists clenched, every cell in her body working to turn her raging desire into just plain rage. "Keep your distance from me. Move back to your room. Leave me alone."

"What in h.e.l.l is the matter with you?" He ran both hands through his thick, dark hair. "I do not understand you."

"I don't want a s.e.xual relationship with you. I have said that many times."

"Why not?" he said crossly, beginning to pace.

"Do not push me anymore, Grayson. If you continue forcing yourself on me, I will have to leave."

"Forcing myself on you?" He pointed a finger at her, a wealth of frustration betrayed by the rigidness of his body. "We will sort this out. Tonight."

Lifting her chin, Isabel held her gown to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and shook her head rapidly. "I have plans for this evening. I told you that."

"You cannot go out," he scoffed. "Look at you. You are shaking all over with the need for a hard tumble."

"That is not your concern."

"d.a.m.ned if it isn't."

"Gray-"

Gray's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do not bring Hargreaves into this, Isabel. Do not go to him to sate the needs I arouse."

She gaped. "Are you threatening me?"

"No. And well you know it. I am promising you, that if you go to Hargreaves to ease cravings brought on by my touch, I will call him out."

"I cannot believe this."

He threw up his hands. "Neither can I. There you stand, aching for me. Here I stand, ready to f.u.c.k you until neither of us can walk. What is the problem, Isabel? Can you tell me that?"

"I do not want to ruin our marriage!"

Gray took a deep, calming breath. "I must point out to you, dear wife, that marriage, by nature, includes s.e.x. Between the spouses, not third parties."

"Not our marriage," she said firmly. "We had a bargain. You must find someone else."

"That blasted bargain! Christ, Pel. Things have changed." He stepped toward her with arms outstretched, the tense line of his jaw softening.

She ran to her escritoire, and put the piece of furniture between them. If he touched her, she would crumble.

His jaw clenched again. "As you wish," he bit out. "But this is not what you want. I saw you today, the way you looked at every woman who walked in the door. The truth is, whatever your reasoning is for not wanting me in your bed, you don't want me in any other woman's bed either." Gray bowed. "However, your wish is my command. You can collect your error on your own."

Before she could react, he was gone. And while she regretted her words immediately, she did not chase him down and tell him not to go.

Chapter 6.

Gerard strode the length of the hallway that led to Lady Stanhope's hotel room, and cursed his stubborn wife.

There were benefits to doing as Isabel urged. His desire for her was nigh unbearable, causing him to push her too quickly and frighten her. He understood this, and he appreciated that he was not giving her enough time to become accustomed both to his new interest and his return to her life. It was true that f.u.c.king Barbara would take the edge off his hunger, but d.a.m.n it! He did not want to take the edge off. He wanted to experience the aching, burning, intoxicating pa.s.sion with Isabel, not a subst.i.tute for her.

But the thought of his wife with Hargreaves was so infuriating, his blood boiled. He would be d.a.m.ned if she eased her needs while he suffered with his own. Gerard knocked on Barbara's door, and walked right in.

"I knew you would come," she purred, nude on the bed, wearing only a black ribbon around her throat. He hardened instantly, as any man would at the sight of her. Barbara was a beautiful woman with a ravenous s.e.xual appet.i.te, enough to incite his anger and frustration into adulterated l.u.s.t.

Shrugging out of his jacket and unfastening the b.u.t.tons of his waistcoat, he approached the bed with grim determination.

Barbara came up on her knees, and moved to help him. "Grayson," she breathed in her girlish voice, her eager hands shoving his garments off his shoulders to pool on the floor. "You are so hot for it tonight."

He crawled over her, pinning her to the bed, then rolled, bringing her over him.

"You know what to do," he muttered, then lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind completely disconnected from the meaningless s.e.x that would soon follow.

Tugging his shirt free, Barbara ran her hands across his rippled abdomen. "I think I could o.r.g.a.s.m just looking at you." She leaned over him, pressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his thigh as she worked to open his trousers. "But, of course, I will do more than look."

Gerard closed his eyes, and longed for Isabel.

Isabel stepped down from her carriage and entered the Hargreaves residence by way of the mews. It was a path she had taken hundreds of times, and one that used to fill her with warm antic.i.p.ation. Tonight, however, was completely different. Her stomach was knotted, and her palms damp. Gray had left on horseback, and she knew he had gone to another woman.

And she was the one who had driven him there.

At this moment, he was most likely buried deep inside someone, his gorgeous a.s.s tightening and flexing as he thrust his c.o.c.k into a willing body. She told herself their marriage was best this way. Better he find someone else now, than after she had succ.u.mbed. But even knowing this, she did not feel any better. The pictures in her mind tormented her, and the feeling of possessiveness did not abate. As she walked silently along the upper floor hallway, she could not fight her feelings of guilt and betrayal.

She knocked softly on John's bedroom door, then entered.