The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,84
give?
What would happen to her?
Chapter Sixteen
WHEN CONSTANTINE AWOKE the next morning it was to realize three things: he’d never had a liaison as intense as the previous night’s, he was starved, and Elizabeth was gone.
Smugness and a touch of embarrassment flowed through him at the realization that he could hear her in the next room seeing to Oliver and Mrs. Dalton. Without a doubt, the sound of their lovemaking had drifted through the inn.
Of all the places to have finally succumbed, when in London she let a house with a dozen private rooms…
He was grateful Lord Wyndham had chosen to leave.
There was nothing to do for it but to pack his things, have a hearty breakfast and move on before he encountered anyone else he knew. A glance around the room showed it hadn’t been disturbed since the night before. No fire, no tray of cold, untouched dinner, no trunk with his fresh change of clothes. That must have been delivered to Elizabeth’s room. He grinned. If there’d been a knock at his door, he certainly hadn’t heard it. But he very much doubted any servant would have had the gall to even attempt entry.
Pulling on his shirtsleeves, he tucked the tail in halfway and tied the strings at his neck. Then he ran his hand through his hair and left his room to knock on Elizabeth’s door.
After an initial scuttling, he was met through a six-inch crack by the blushing face of Mrs. Dalton.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dalton,” he said in a teasing tone, and enjoyed the way her breath expelled in soft, reprimanding tsk. “Lovely day, is it not?” He was feeling rather pleased with himself this morning. Yes, he was. He supposed he ought to be discreet, and not bandy his conquest about like this, but Elizabeth had paid him to make it public, had she not? And he wanted his success to be recognized. He’d made Elizabeth his last night and he had no doubt in his mind that Elizabeth knew it. Given the thinness of the walls, everyone must know it.
What would happen between them next, he couldn’t say, but then he’d never been one to think too far ahead. It ruined the surprise.
Mrs. Dalton cleared her throat. “It is, my lord.”
He did like making Mrs. Dalton blush, but there was no call to be boorish, and if he was making her truly uncomfortable then he must stop. He gifted her with a perfectly bland smile instead of the beaming, cocksure one he wanted to flash. “Is my trunk in there?”
Relief relaxed her face. “It is, my lord. Would you like me to bring it over?”
As if he’d let her! He’d sooner have her darning his stockings. “It’s far too heavy. I’ll fetch it myself—” He braced a hand against the door to push it open, but she held fast. He lifted an eyebrow. “Mrs. Dalton?”
She didn’t budge. “Madam is occupied at the moment. If you’ll wait but a quarter hour, I’ll have the trunk brought over.”
There was nothing Elizabeth could be doing that involved parts of her that he hadn’t engaged with last night. He stepped forward and Mrs. Dalton instinctively stepped back. The door slipped open another few inches, just enough to give Constantine a view of Elizabeth reclined against the bedframe with Oliver snuggled against her shoulder. She looked up. Her eyes caught his and she smiled.
A wave of possessiveness socked him hard. It fair knocked his breath out. She looked nothing like the siren he’d seduced last night. She was a benevolent, adoring mother in perfect harmony.
An emotion he’d never felt before filled him so full he felt as though he might burst with it. She looked so beautiful, like the Madonna. Morning sunlight even shined upon her from the open window.
If any woman had ever made him want to protect her more, he couldn’t remember it.
Mrs. Dalton swiveled her head back to look aghast at him. “My lord, please! She’s still abed.”
His first attempts to reply were nonsense syllables. He felt a need to cross the room and sit beside Elizabeth, to become a part of the magical painting she and Oliver created. His son and his mistress. But he realized the inappropriateness of his intrusion and the lack of right he had to insert himself and he retreated a few steps into the hall. With an abrupt nod, he tore his gaze from the surreal image and turned back to his room. “Send it as soon as you are able.”