‘So you sneak out of the castle to remember, to escape, to live.’ He saw more clearly what he was up against: her desire to choose her mate was more than selfish defiance. This was about reclaiming the freedom she’d been denied. She’d been locked in a castle for ten years like a princess in fairy story even if it had been done without malicious intent. Now, she was breaking free, only to risk being tied down again the moment she’d tasted that freedom. From that perspective it seemed almost cruel to have brought her to London, to let her taste freedom only to snatch it away.
Cassian leaned in, claiming her mouth in a sweet kiss. ‘I can show you the world, Pen,’ he promised.
‘I know,’ she breathed, her lips brushing his in return, the fire between them starting to ignite. The world was more than places...it was passion and pleasure. ‘That’s what scares me. How can I go back in the cage after I’ve seen it?’ They were kissing in earnest now; mouths and tongues competing with words, air coming in ragged breaths.
‘You wouldn’t have to go back.’ Cassian rolled her beneath him, his gaze intent on her face watching for any sign of capitulation.
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Cassian,’ she warned softly. ‘A duchess is the most gilded cage of all.’ But there was no heat to the argument. The only heat was that which sprang between them on the blanket and warmed them overhead. Nature’s heat, passion’s heat, but not anger’s.
‘My duchess may do as she pleases.’ Cassian nipped at her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath his mouth, his own desire rising hot and fast for this woman, for this moment. He would make her any promise.
‘May she?’ Pen’s words were laced with sensual purpose. She pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Shall we test that theory? Lie back.’
‘Pen, what are you doing?’ Cassian said warily, but it didn’t stop him from complying. She gave him a wicked look full of meaning and he went hard. Dear sweet heavens. She meant to use her mouth. It took only the insight of a moment to understand her intention. She worked the fall of his riding breeches open, her eyes already wide at the prominent evidence of his arousal. There was smug pride in her gaze, too, a woman’s pride that she could rouse him so effortlessly. Perhaps there was surprise too. ‘I had no idea a man could be so big, so hard.’
‘Does it please you that I am?’ Cassian levered upwards on his elbows and stole a kiss. Gone were talks of dead beloveds and regrets. This afternoon was for the living.
She leaned up over him and kissed his mouth. ‘What do you think? Now, hush. I have it on good authority it’s rude to talk when the show is starting.’
‘Show, is it?’ He couldn’t resist one last tease as she wiggled down the length of him, her mouth closing around the tip of his shaft, the heat of her lips reducing him to a moan. Dear lord, she was good at this. It just proved one didn’t need experience when one had curiosity and ambition, and Pen was ambitious in the extreme. She explored him with her tongue, licking at his length, lapping at his tip, tasting and testing, as if he were a fine, well-aged vintage and she a connoisseur who knew that one did not gulp such a wine, but sipped it, savoured it. Which was all well and good up to a point.
She’d licked him to a frenzy. He dug his hands into the folds of the blanket, feeling the give of the grass beneath the fabric, his head arching to the sun, his eyes closed tight, the cords of his neck exposed and taut, every muscle in his body exerting themselves in a bid for restraint. He was not alone in the struggle. From his thighs, her own breaths came in ragged pants, her artful seduction degenerating into the primal. He gave a sharp groan as her teeth bit too hard in her excitement. Her head came up for a fleeting second. She was a wild thing, her hair falling forward, her eyes green fire before she took him again, working his length with her mouth until restraint could be held no longer. He let out a warning growl, giving her time to move away and take him in hand instead before he spent quite thoroughly against her palm, against his thigh, his stomach.
‘Fireworks,’ Pen murmured as she took a handkerchief from him. ‘Or a great fountain.’
‘Do you like fireworks?’ Cassian adjusted his breeches, drew her up to him and settled her against his shoulder. Her efforts had left him pleasantly drained and drowsy. He wanted to hold her, wanted to feel her warm body against his.
‘I like yours,’ she teased gently.
‘Tuesday is opening night at Vauxhall. I have a supper box. There will be dancing and fireworks and a hundred other entertainments. Will you come?’
She lifted her head. ‘My father says Vauxhall is full of danger.’
‘He can come with us. Perhaps if you’re with me, he’ll feel there is less to fear.’
‘I think you are the danger.’ But she didn’t mean it. There was only joking in her words this time as she snuggled against him, her hand comfortable and familiar on his chest. For a moment they were Em and Matthew, lying together once more in the gamekeeper’s cottage, content just to be. No, Cassian thought drowsily. Today they’d become more than Em and Matthew. Em and Matthew had nothing to lose, nothing to risk by being together. It was easy to share secrets with a stranger. But Cassian and Pen had much to risk and they had shared any way. It was a significant step forward towards winning her trust.
‘I wonder what my mother would have thought of you?’ Pen traced a circle on his shirt and Cassian regretted the invention of clothes. How wondrous it would have been to feel her finger on his skin, to lie beneath the sun naked with her, to feel the sun’s heat on their bodies. Her finger stopped tracing and he could sense her gathering her thoughts. ‘I talk to her a lot, not just when I’m out walking. Do you think that’s crazy?’
‘No.’ His hand played idly through her hair, lifting it and dropping it. He liked lying her with her, listening to her think out loud. What a precious gift this was, a gift he thought he’d never have again.
‘I think losing someone close changes your relationship to them. They’re gone, but they’re not gone. They’re with you, in your mind, in your heart. Does that make any sense? Have you ever lost someone close to you besides your brother?’
‘Yes. Last year, I lost a mentor, the Duke of Newlyn, Richard Penlerick.’
‘I heard of it.’ Pen rose up to look at him. ‘You were close to him?’
‘Our families were close. My father was lifelong friends with him and he was like an uncle to me, a mentor. He encouraged me to travel, to pursue my dreams. I hear him sometimes in my head, telling me to go on, to not give up although I’ve done a terrible job of pursuing those dreams, of honouring his legacy.’
‘Tell me your dreams. What are they? I want to hear every last one of them.’ She smiled at him, a sun-dappled Circe in her yellow muslin and the temptation was great to lay all of his dreams at her feet, to see what she’d make of them, but the practical dreamer in him warned he could not risk it, not yet. Today had been perfect, he didn’t dare tax that perfection any further.
He reached for her hand and kissed it. ‘Perhaps I will tell you at Vauxhall with fireworks overhead.’
‘I will hold you to that.’
‘And I will hold you.’ His arm tightened about her and he breathed her in, all vanilla and sunlight and daisies. Somehow, against the odds, he’d find a way to make this dream and the others come true.
Chapter Sixteen
The reception did not disappoint. The Gloucester Lodge gardens were beautifully lit, the scene of ladies and gentlemen strolling beneath the late-night glow serene as soft strains of summer music played in the background. Later, there would be a performance from the Life Guards band, but for now, all was a fairy land and she was part of it. Pen smiled as she looked about. When she thought of all that had happened since she’d come to London, she had to pinch herself.
‘I can’t believe it’s all real,’ she murmured to Cassian as they joined the promenade about the gardens. Most of all, she couldn’t believe he was real.
It’s too good to be true, whispered the unbelief in her head. He wants something from Redruth and you’re the key.
‘Believe it.’ Cassian laughed, her enjoyment of the reception pleasing him.
‘I’m not sure I dare for fear it will disappear. I’ll wake up and discover it’s all a dream.’ She laughed up at him, but her words weren’t entirely in jest. The last time she’d believed in him, he’d been snatched away without warning.
‘Lord Trevethow!’ A tall man with long dark hair drawn back called to them from beside a fountain where he stood with an elegant woman who nearly matched him in height. ‘I thought I might find you here tonight.’ The man’s English was perfect, although his voice was tinted with an accent.
Cassian nodded the man’s direction and ushered her over to make introductions. ‘Prince Baklanov, Princess Klara, allow me to present Lady Penrose Prideaux. Lady Penrose, this is the esteemed Prince Nikolay Baklanov and his wife, Klara Baklanova. The Prince is lately of Kuban, formerly a captain in the Kubanian cavalry. Now he runs a riding academy in Leicester Square. His wife is the daughter of the Russian ambassador to Britain.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Your Royal Highnesses.’ Pen managed a curtsy, feeling overwhelmed. Of course a prince and a princess were just sitting here out in the open. It simply added to the magic of the night.
‘Do you know of Kuban?’ Princess Klara asked. ‘Most people don’t.’
‘Yes, it’s in the south of Russia. It seems very wild and magnificent.’ Pen could see it in her mind on her maps where east met west along the border of the Ottoman Empire. She could picture the port at Ekaterinador and the long strip of the Kuban River running inland towards the capital.
‘Magnificent. That is exactly the word for Kuban,’ Prince Nikolay said approvingly. ‘Most call it desolate but they don’t know any better. I like her, Trevethow.’
Cassian placed his hand over hers, his gaze sliding towards her, warm and adoring. ‘I like her too.’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘How is Prince Shevchenko? I heard it was a near-run thing. An abominable business in Shoreham, I’m afraid.’
Nikolay nodded, all seriousness. ‘He and his new bride are well away. They’ve sailed off into the sunset, quite literally, but his neck is intact and the officer in charge of the farce will be court-martialled.’
Pen didn’t pretend to understand, but Cassian nodded his approval. ‘I’ll miss Shevchenko. He always had good vodka. You will, too, no doubt. There’s only you left of the Russian Princes to do the diplomatic duty when called upon.’ Cassian chuckled. ‘I think every foreign prince in the city has been called upon to turn out tonight and the diplomatic corps as well.’
‘Yes, the Foreign Office was insistent there be a Russian presence here tonight so that nothing looks underhanded,’ Nikolay affirmed. There’d been great speculation in the newspapers about whether or not the Hawaiian King meant to seek British protection against a Russian attempt to establish a settlement in the islands.
Two other men, Sir Liam O’Casek and Lord Preston Worth with their wives, May and Beatrice, strolled over to join the group and introductions were exchanged before Cassian politely disengaged from the group, whispering to her, ‘There are others I want you to meet before the royals arrive. My close friends, Inigo Vellanoweth, the Earl of Tintagel, and his father, the new Duke of Newlyn, Vennor Penlerick, and my parents.’
That particular group was gathered by a rose arbour near the French doors that led indoors, well positioned to be one of the early groups to meet the King. Pen hesitated as they approached. This was different than a chance meeting on the path. Meeting foreign royalty was exciting. Meeting Cassian’s parents was daunting. She smoothed the skirts of her pale blue silk gown. Cassian squeezed her hand. ‘You look fine. They will adore you, as I do.’
There was another round of introductions. Inigo Vellanoweth was dark and cynically enigmatic with a sharp wit. Vennor Penlerick was golden and charming. He used that charm like a shield, Pen thought, a shield to keep others at bay along with his grief. Not unlike Cassian. It was rather intriguing to watch the two of them together. She’d not thought of Cassian as having a shield. He was always easy to be with—he drew people in with that ease, and made it easy for others to talk to him.
Perhaps that ease was Cassian’s shield. He was all dazzle and grand gestures; the theatre box, tonight’s reception, the upcoming tickets to Vauxhall. But behind the glamour of his invitations, he seldom talked about himself. He had done so with Em, certainly. There’d been no risk in that. Em was a stranger who had no idea who he was. He could tell her anything he liked. But the picnic the other day had been the first time he’d shared anything deeply personal with her. She treasured that disclosure all the more for its rarity even while wishing there were more moments like that where the shield was down.
She could see where he got the easy charm from. Both of his parents were charismatic, both of them dark-haired and tall. His father had Cassian’s strong, chiselled jaw and his mother, the amber eyes. The Truscotts were a handsome family. The group exchanged pleasantries until a gong announced the arrival of the Hawaiian court. ‘Are you ready to see some more of the world?’ Cassian whispered beside her as the Hawaiian King, King Kamehameha II, and his Queen, Kamamalu, entered the garden.
Pen’s eyes went wide. They were spectacular, dressed in European-styled clothing, which only served to emphasise their majesty. Both of them had thick dark hair and skin, and both stood over six feet tall. Pen had never seen such a big woman before. And the King! He managed to make Cassian’s usually intimidating height and breadth look merely average. Some of the newspapers had styled the Hawaiian court as savages come to town, but Pen saw none of that as the King moved from group to group, respectfully greeting dukes and diplomats. He stopped for a long moment with Wellington, sombrely nodding as the hero of Waterloo was introduced to him. He’d done his homework, Pen thought. He understood the import of Waterloo in this part of the world. Impressive.
The royal court approached their group and Pen felt giddy with excitement. She made her curtsy, and, to her surprise, Cassian gestured for two footmen to come forward with two long boxes. ‘Lady Penrose has been teaching me about leis and the custom in the islands.’ Cassian opened each box to reveal two fresh leis made of roses. ‘Lady Penrose tells me the flora on the islands are used for the leis, so I present you leis made of English flora, to welcome you. There is nothing as English as the English rose.’
The King nodded his thanks and the Queen looked touched by the gesture, but no one moved for an awkward moment. Yes, the greeting! She’d read about it once and hoped she’d remembered it right. Pen took a deep breath, eager to avoid creating an international incident with a misstep, especially with the visit off to a difficult start as it was. Pen lifted the first lei from its box and stepped forward. She reached up and put it about the Queen’s neck and kissed her cheek. The Queen beamed with pleasure and Pen knew she’d done well. She repeated the process with the King, who graciously bent down to accommodate her.
‘Mahalo,’ the King said. ‘That’s how we say thank you on the islands.’ A little round of applause went up from the onlookers that had gathered, but what pleased Pen the most was the look of approval on Cassian’s face.
The Life Guard Band’s performance began soon afterwards and everyone drifted inside to take their seats, but Pen was loath to leave the garden. ‘Can we stay out a bit longer?’ she asked as Cassian made to usher her inside. ‘I want to linger in this fairy land a few minutes more.’ In truth, she wanted to linger with him. For all the magic the night had provided, nothing compared to the magic of being with Cassian, of having his hand at her back, his words whispered at her ear, the delight he took in introducing her to his friends. They hung back from the crowd, finding their way once more to the fountain where they’d met the Russian Prince. Pen sat at the edge and trailed her hand in the water.
�
��Thank you for tonight, Cassian. You promised to show me the world and you did. We didn’t even have to leave London. Tonight I met a Russian prince and a Hawaiian king.’
‘You saved the day with the leis.’ Cassian rested a foot on the fountain’s edge. ‘I had no idea what to do.’
‘You brought the leis. That was inspired. Thank you for that.’ They’d been specially designed. He’d gone to some effort to see it done. It was further proof that he listened when she talked, that he remembered what she shared, that he made what was important to her important to him.
‘We make a good team, Pen.’ Cassian gave one of his easy laughs.
There was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to thank him for: for introducing her to his friends, for the chance to meet the Hawaiian royals, for listening to her, but Cassian was looking at her in that intent way of his with smoky amber eyes. ‘Am I proving myself to you, Pen? That I am more than any man in the room?’ His voice was low and intimate as his hand raised her chin up to meet his gaze. ‘I have always wanted you as Em or Pen. It doesn’t matter. They’re both you. Tell me I have a chance? That we’re building something new and strong between us here in London. The magic is real, Pen. Believe in it. Believe in me.’
‘I do want to tell you that. But it’s hard.’ Maybe she’d lived with the fear so long it had begun to be part of her without her realising it? Her father’s fear had worn off on her. ‘Magic spells are often broken, Cassian. Magic comes with costs in all the tales. Everyone gives up something in order to have it, if only for a little while. I’m afraid of what I might have to give up.’ But even now she was thinking whatever the cost might be, it would be worth it when he looked at her like that, like he saw the world in her eyes.
The Passions 0f Lord Trevethow (The Cornish Dukes Book 2) Page 14
