Clair laughed merrily and clasped his hands, the sound like the tinkling of bells. "Like it was Christmas. I love her so much. From the time I can first remember, Mary has been mother, friend, and teacher all rolled into one. She deserves to be happy."
Thinking over her words, she corrected her statement. "Actually, we have been very happy in the Frankenstein household. But Ozzie would give my aunt a joy beyond that." She frowned, trying to refine her thoughts. "Like with fresh strawberries, my favorite. I so love them. But when I add cream, fresh strawberries become even more tasty."
Ian chuckled. "I understand. And what of your own strawberries and cream?" he asked, steering the conversation to a more personal bent. This was the topic dearest to his heart.
"Cream?"
"Marriage."
"Oh, I do believe Ozzie will propose to Aunt Mary."
Ian shook his head. "Our marriage, Clair. The marriage that should take place as quickly as I can get you to an altar."
Placing a hand against his chest, she warned, "Ian, we have been through this. I love you, but I can't believe we should wed unless you embrace my studies and accept that they are as much a part of me as the color of my eyes. I won't give up my research."
"Clair, it's not that I mind your research or work, though heaven knows you would never have to work with my fortune. It's the manner of research you undertake. It's too dangerous. I would worry about you all the time." She started to protest, but he held up a hand, stalling her. "Just like I worry now."
"You are being ridiculous. Nothing irreversible has ever happened to me on my forays into the supernatural. Besides, we can work together on my various projects."
Exasperated, Ian frowned. "I have my estates. Look how busy I've been the past few days on small emergencies that spring up from nowhere. And soon you'll be busy with our children." His frown went away at the thought of making babies with Clair.
The look in his eye shouted, "Let's get naked." Quickly, Clair dropped her hand from his chest, taking a step backward. "It's late. Auntie will be worried. I need to go upstairs to bed."
"Without me," he snapped. Then, seeing the irritated look in her eyes, he added sincerely, "I'm sorry. I just want you so badly. I can't wait until this bloody house party is over and I can get you alone and have my wicked way with you. Let me correct that. My wicked, wicked ways with you."
He wanted to tryst the night away in Clair's arms. He was cocksure about it. Yes, he thought grimly, it was certainly sure. Roaring and ready to go. All it took these days was for him to think about Clair and her plump white breasts…
Clair stifled a groan as she presented her arm for him to escort her upstairs. She wanted to count every one of those wicked ways with her fingers. She had become a fornicating floozy. What a naughty thought! She arched a brow. Ian definitely had that kind of effect on her. Drat, it was going to be a long and very lonely night.
Ian sighed. So far Plan C was limping along on three legs. And bloody hell if it wasn't going to be a long wait until dawn. He kissed Clair chastely at her door and left, his breeches uncomfortably tight.
Clair went inside her room. Glancing around, she found no sign of movement. No sign of her aunt. She beamed, knowing just what her aunt was doing and with whom.
But… she and Ian had had little to no time alone together. Her aunt was probably going to be gone for a bit longer. Clair slipped quietly from her room.
Before she could reach the landing to the third floor, she heard suspicious giggles and the opening of a door. Glancing around her for somewhere to hide, she noticed a darkened nook under the stairwell. She slipped inside only moments before she spied the married Mr. Bear sneaking into Mrs. Walling's room, his chamber robe on, a garish creation of bright red. Next she saw Galen McBain lightly tapping on the newly widowed Lady Harringon's door, who was evidently not very bereaved.
She thought she could move out from her hiding place then, but before she could, Baron Golde with his bright golden locks craftily, like a thief in the night, entered Mrs. Edmonds's bedchamber. Then, as Clair was preparing to step out into the hallway again, she observed Lady Montcrief entering Mr. Wilder's room. Much to her disgust and surprise, the baron's wife, Lady Golde, soon followed Lady Montcrief into the not-so-honorable Christopher Wilder's chamber.
"A menage à trois?" Clair was fascinated and affronted at the same time. Soon, however, her scientific little brain was hard at work trying to figure out the angles and acrobatics needed to accomplish such a task. To manage to put one peg into two holes? The visual she constructed made her face turn beet red.
Turning her mind to her own rendezvous, she waited several more moments to make sure the coast was clear. Then she slipped up the staircase, only to nearly be caught by Mrs. Bear. The married lady was engaged in a passionate embrace with the also-married Viscount Edwards. The fact that the embrace was so lusty saved Clair from discovery as she silently darted behind a large Ming vase near the third-floor staircase. After several minutes of heavy petting and embarrassing noises, the couple slipped silently down the hallway and into one of the other guest rooms—probably Mrs. Bear's, Clair reasoned, since Mr. Edwards's room was occupied by Baron Golde and Mr. Edwards's wife.
Clair shook her head at all the bedroom antics. No wonder her aunt had always been so vehemently opposed to her and Arlene attending any house parties in the country. They were virtual dens of iniquity. In fact, she wondered, if she went back to her own room, if she would have to ask, "Who's been sleeping in my bed?"
Her head reeling, she went to step from behind the Ming vase just as her aunt stepped out of Ozzie's room. "Drat! Drat! And double drat!" she shouted silently. There would be none of Ian's loving tonight.
Luckily her aunt was distracted by Ozzie's sizzling kiss and hadn't spotted her. Carefully and quietly, Clair eased from behind the vase and tiptoed back to the stairs. It was lucky that people didn't have eyes in the backs of their heads, she thought. Then she remembered one of Uncle Victor's more dismal experiments. He had once implanted a second set of eyes in the back of an owl's head. The poor thing had gotten dreadfully confused as whether to fly forward or backward, and so the bird kept crashing into chandeliers.
Remembering where she was, Clair took off like greased lightning and slipped down the stairs to her room, barely getting her hair undone before her aunt entered. Both glanced at each other sheepishly. Each lost in their thoughts, they let silence reign.
Much later that night, the stillness was broken by a scream. Both Clair and Lady Mary would find out in the morning that it was Mr. Bear, who had found three to a bed more than a little uncomfortable. Yes, Mr. Bear had found out who was sleeping in his bed: Baron Golde. And it hadn't been, "Just right."
See No Werewolf, Hear No Werewolf
The day went exceedingly fast for Clair. Breakfast was embarrassing, as Clair sat down next to Baron Golde and his wife, as well as several other participants in the night's bedroom antics. Clair ate quickly, a blush on her face through most of the meal.
At breakfast she was informed that Asher had been called away on estate business, while the Honorable Christopher Wilder, the Bears, Lady Montcrief, and several others were going on some scouting expedition to some old ruins. That left Clair free to search the manor, except Ian kept her busy until late after luncheon, trying to whisk her away to private spots for private moments.
Her aunt, however, had the tenacity of a bloodhound, finding them before anything more than a passionate kiss or two could be shared. Ozzie trailed behind her aunt like a lost puppy. Galen, never one to be left out of any teasing of his cousin, also popped in on them right at any moment the two found themselves alone. The crafty bugger always had a big smirk on his face, and Ian cursed beside her. Clair found it both humorous and frustrating.