Chapter 2
His wife Marien stood in the doorway to his bedchamber, arms crossed, lips pursed in thought.
“You could knock,” Eduard told her in lieu of greeting. “You know how skittish he is.”
She was an attractive woman whose once delicate features had hardened into a sardonic smirk in the year and a half since they’d moved to the island colony of Java. Marien knew of Eduard’s penchant for male company—that was part of the reason she had agreed to marry him, and more than once she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him physically. “Your name and your money,” she had said, ticking off the items on her petite fingers. “You may sleep with whatever boycatches your fancy but those two things belong to me.”
Eduard could hardly disagree. A scandal with an underage stable hand back in Holland had left him scrambling for marriage, as if a wife could possibly stave off untoward rumors. In Eduard’s defense, the boy had looked older than he was, and hadn’t bothered to share his true age. The whole affair seemed an elaborate attempt to cash in on whatever lingered of Eduard’s family fortune, and when marriage to a respectable woman hadn’t stemmed the stable hand’s tongue, a trip to Java seemed in order. Ever the dutiful wife, a fact she would not let Eduard forget, Marien had followed him halfway around the world to the tropical paradise and the spice plantation they currently maintained. She allowed him his excesses and he gave her free rein with the household funds. Let her have the latest fashions from Paris, even if they were a season out of date; as long as he could have his way with the male servants and dark-skinned tradesmen in Batavia, in whom Eduard had an almost obsessive passion, they were both happy.
But he wouldn’t get to satisfy that passion if his damn wife kept interrupting his trysts. Smoothing down the front of his trousers, Eduard closed his eyes against the sensations his own touch sent spiraling through his body. “Did you want something in particular, my dear? Or are you simply content in chasing him away?”
“You have a visitor,” Marien told him.
As if he hadn’t heard her, Eduard let his fingers drift over his crotch, pressing here and there, unwilling to let his erection fade away so soon. Perhaps he could give chase, find Tohpati, and slowly build back up to the level of lust they had finally managed to achieve between them. Or, hell, find some other willing soul— the port was full of hungry sailors looking for a hot, tight hole, and Eduard’s handsome appearance always ensured him a quick catch. Perhaps…
“Eduard?” Marien’s waspish voice rose an octave or two, interrupting his thoughts. “Surely you can stop fiddling with yourself long enough to see to your guest?”
With a weary sigh, Eduard cupped his crotch, giving himself an almost painful squeeze. Later, he promised silently. “Who bothers me now?” he asked, pushing up from the bed to stretch before his wife.
Marien turned, dismissive. “One of your Nancy boys, I’ll warrant,” she snapped. Eduard perked up at the thought of a former sexual partner returning for more. “Just don’t pleasure each other in the drawing room. That’s why you have a door on your bedchamber.”
“Which you’d do well to remember,” he grumbled.
From the hallway, Marien called out, “What was that, dear?”
Eduard didn’t bother to reply. From the smug tone of his wife’s voice, he knew she’d heard him. Straightening his shirt, he smoothed a hand over his thick blond hair to ensure it was still pulled back, the unruly waves tamed with a small piece of ribbon tied at his nape. With a steadying breath to curb his pounding libido, he headed for the door and the promise of a visitor beyond.
* * * *
Before reaching the drawing room, Eduard paused in front of a gilded mirror to check his appearance—his coloring had returned to normal, and his eyes were no longer hooded with lust. Even his heart seemed to have returned to the steady stutter befitting a gentleman in his late thirties and not some amorous teenager in heat. He took a moment to refasten the ribbon that held his hair from his face. He wished he’d thought to stop in Marien’s bedchamber for a little rice powder beneath his eyes, something to chase away the shadows that seemed to settle there, but no matter. If his visitor were a returning paramour looking for a second taste of van De Lier, then Eduard doubted he’d balk at the Dutchman’s less than perfect appearance. He hadbeen interrupted, and Tohpati hadn’t mentioned him freshening up before going any further.