Evening Star

by Catherine Coulter

  Giana looked again at her sleeping son. “Do you like him, Alex?” she asked shyly.

  “He’s a greedy little begger. Leah approves, but made me promise that I wouldn’t ignore her now that I have a son. Silly little chit.”

  “We will have to be very careful about that, I expect,” Giana said, and yawned.

  “Have I bored you already?”

  She shook her head, but he saw she was having difficulty remaining awake. “Poor Mother. She missed everything. Nicholas will be a month old, nearly grown, by the time she and the damned duke get here,” she said, mimicking his voice.

  “Perhaps to hear him recite the Declaration of Independence,” Alex said. “Go to sleep now, love. I was informed by Elvan that I am not to touch you for a month at least.”

  She regarded him from beneath her lashes. “We will see,” she said.

  * * *

  “It appears,” the duke said, gazing down at the sleeping Nicholas in Aurora’s arms, “that your daughter can’t tell time.”

  At Delaney’s questioning smile, he added, “I told my wife that babies were like clockwork, yet Giana must ignore nature and make poor Alex dash about like a headless chicken.”

  “Rooster, sir, rooster.”

  “Ah, indeed, my boy. Forgive me.”

  “And I’m an uncle, as all you seem to forget,” Delaney said, touching his rough thumb to the baby’s chin. “A stubborn chin. I don’t know whether it’s Giana’s or yours, Alex.”

  “Well, since I’m the one who wears the pants in the family,” Alex began, only to hear Delaney interrupt him with a laugh.

  “Methinks I hear a swishing skirt, brother.”

  “How right you are, Delaney,” Giana said from the doorway.

  Alex looked up, his eyes alight with pleasure. Giana’s waist was nearly as small as it used to be, her breasts beautifully swollen with milk for Nicholas. To his bemused surprise, when her eyes met his, she blushed, actually turned red.

  As if by magic, Nicholas opened his eyes and gazed up at his grandmother. His small fingers reached for her breast.

  “Oh dear,” Aurora said “I fear it is Giana you need, little one.” She rose gracefully and handed Giana her son.

  “Don’t worry, my love,” the duke said, “if it is that kind of attention you want, I will not deny you.”

  “I’m a mere boy of twenty-eight,” Delaney said. “I wonder if I’ll have either the interest or the energy when I am a grown man.”

  “It is the lady, son,” the duke said. “Therein lies the secret.”

  “You are shameless, Damien, utterly shameless.”

  Delaney gazed from the duke to his duchess, and sighed deeply. He rose and said, “I think I will go bury my sorrows in a glass of beer. Even Alex pays me no more attention.”

  “True,” Alex said, pulling his eyes from his son, “but can you blame me?”

  “I begin to perceive that my destiny lies in California.”

  “Mayhap even your lady,” the duke said.

  “I think,” Aurora said, “that the both of you should keep your tongues in your mouths and leave poor Delaney alone.”

  “At last I have a champion,” Delaney said. “Would you care to join me in my solitude, ma’am?”

  “I think that is a fine invitation,” Aurora said, smiling toward her husband.

  “Take Leah, my love. I don’t trust brash Americans.”

  Alex sat quietly watching Giana suckle Nicholas, a sight that always fascinated him. The smile fell off his face when he remembered their son was over a month old, and he stared down at his hands, clasped between his knees. It was Giana who had reminded him of the passage of time the night before, when she snuggled against him. He had pulled away from her, telling her that he wanted Elvan to examine her first, but he knew that was not why he had refused her. He was pulled from his thoughts when Giana said, “I saw Dr. Davidson today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes,” she said. She looked him straight in the eye. “He said I am perfectly well again. Perfectly, Alex.”

  He he was instantly hard. “That is interesting,” he said only, and turned to look out of the window.

  Giana blinked in confusion. She knew he wanted her as much as she did him. Why was he being obtuse?

  Nicholas, glutted, was sleeping soundly in her arms. She dropped a quick kiss on his smooth brow, fastened her gown, and carried him to the nursery to Clare, the new nursery maid. Alex was standing at the window looking down at the street when she returned.

  She found herself staring at him, wishing her face were buried in his throat so she could breathe in the scent of him. Her fingers curled at the thought of roving freely over his beautiful body, tangling in the thick hair on his chest, and downward, to feel his muscles tense beneath her hand. She felt a shock of desire so powerful that she trembled.

  “Alex?’

  “Yes?” He sounded bored, she thought, stunned. Bored.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He turned slowly from his post at the window and gazed coldly at her. “What don’t you understand?”

  “You sound angry. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you angry 1at me.”

  “I’m tired of being the patient, understanding husband, Giana,” he said slowly, turning to face her.

  Giana shook her head in confusion. “But you are not—”

  “That’s right. I am not your husband, am I? Well, my dear, I have discovered that I cannot, will not, continue in my role as your lover. I want marriage. I want all of you, or nothing.”

  “I love you, Alex,” she said at last, her voice shaking. “I have told you I love you many times, but you tell me it is not enough. You want me to trust you, trust you with my very soul.” She looked away for a moment. “You want to have the power to destroy me.”

  “Ah, and your husband would have that power, would he not, Giana?” He cocked his head to one side, and when he spoke, his voice was insolently mocking. “Do I take it, then, that what you want is for me to strip right here? If I touch you, Giana, caress you between your white legs, will I discover that you are already wet for me?”

  She flinched at his crudeness. She looked at him warily, not knowing what to say.

  “Will you pant for me? Make those little mewling sounds in your throat?”

  “You know that I will,” she said.

  “And will you whisper that you love me, Giana? And after I’ve given you pleasure, will you say it again? Give the poor devil his due—is that what you will do?”

  She felt her desire dissolve under his mockery, and turned quickly from him, only wanting to escape.

  “No, don’t run away just yet, my love,” he said coldly. “I am not through telling you just what I intend to do.”

  “I don’t understand,” she began.

  “You don’t? Very well, let me explain it to you. You are here as my wife, and I have decided that as your husband, it is time for me to bend you to my will, to show you what it means to be in a man’s power. We will begin now. You will take off your clothes. I have not enjoyed a woman’s soft body in several months, and since I am not yet bored with you, I prefer you to the other women I will doubtless have in the future. Of course, in a year or so, I might go back to Rome. What was her name, Margot? No, she is too old now, almost your age. I am sure I can find a younger woman, more skilled than you. You, my dear Giana, might as well be my wife, and what man wants to continually make love to a woman he must argue with? A woman he sees every day of his life? A woman whose body is his for the taking whenever he wishes it? But enough. Take off your clothes. And be quick about it.” He shrugged, and pulled off his waistcoat. “While you are undressing, I will decide in what manner I wish to enjoy you.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  He merely glanced at her impatiently as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I believe I made myself quite clear but a few minutes ago. But since that is beyond you, I see no reason why I should continue to reason with you. I am but fulf
illing your expectations, making you thank God that you were never fool enough to trust me, a man.” His eyes narrowed dangerously on her pale face, but when he spoke again, his voice was a silky purr. “If you do not strip now, I will take your clothes off for you.”

  “No.”

  “But I will delight in doing it, and there is nothing you can do to prevent me. After all, only a few minutes ago you were hot for me. What’s the matter now, my pet? There is never any need to force you, is there?”

  He sat down, ignoring her, to pull off his shoes. Giana turned and ran to the door, but he closed his hand over hers on the doorknob. He grasped the collar of her gown and ripped downward, rending the material to her waist. She twisted frantically against him, but his hands were hard on her bare shoulders.

  “I could beat you senseless, Giana, and you could do nothing to stop me. I can do anything I please to you.”

  He ripped away her chemise.

  “Ah, what’s this? No corset? How convenient.” He pulled her roughly against him, pressing her breasts against his naked chest.

  “No,” she whispered. “There is no corset. I wanted you to make love to me.”

  She raised her face, willingly pressing herself against him, closing out his hateful words. He gazed down at her and smiled, lightly stroking her back and tangling his fingers in her thick hair. He was all that was gentle and tender when he kissed her. He nuzzled her throat, bending her over his arm to thrust her breasts up to him. She squirmed against him when he brushed his lips over her nipples, and suckled them as did Nicholas. She nearly cried out from the pleasure of it. He eased her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. In another moment he was standing naked beside her, staring down at her.

  “Alex,” she whispered, and stretched out her arms to him.

  Again he smiled. He lay next to her, his fingers following his eyes as they roved over her body. “There are no marks on your belly,” he said, gently kneading her. She wanted him to kiss her, but he kept his eyes upon her face, studying her.

  “How fortunate,” he said after a moment, when he felt her hips move against his fingers. “You could still become a whore if you wished.”

  “Please, Alex, don’t. Please, stop.”

  He knew what she meant, but he rose and moved away from her.

  “You asked me to stop? Very well, Giana.” He turned his back to her and quickly pulled on his trousers.

  She was lying on her back, her legs slightly parted, her eyes wide on his face. “Please don’t leave me.”

  He laughed unpleasantly. “Bring yourself to pleasure, Giana. You can do everything else for yourself. You don’t need me.”

  He heard her sobbing as he tugged on the rest of his clothes. He found he had prodded the buttons of his shirt into the wrong holes, and cursed. Despite himself, his eyes went to the bed. She was curled up on her side, her knees drawn to her chest, her hair fanned out about her. He pulled the door open, gritted his teeth, and left her. He strode to the nursery down the hall, where he found Clare sewing beside Nicholas’ crib.

  “Leave us, Clare.”

  Alex lifted his sleeping son out of his crib, sat down, and cradled him in his arms. Jesus, what had he done? Perhaps too much, perhaps not enough. Would he lose his son because of his refusal to accept what she offered? He traced the tip of his finger lightly over his son’s plump cheek, then touched his pink lips. Nicholas began making smacking noises in his sleep, and his small mouth opened to suck his father’s finger. Alex felt a shaft of pain. His eyes did not leave his son’s face even when he heard a swish of skirts behind him.

  “I told you to leave us, Clare,” he said, not looking up.

  “It is not Clare, Alex.”

  He raised weary eyes to Giana’s face. She was pale, her eyes puffy from her tears. He said, “You win, Giana. You can stay, if you like, and we will continue as we have.”

  Giana fell to her knees beside his chair, her crinoline skirt fanning out about her. “I don’t want things to continue as they have,” she said quietly, looking briefly at her son’s face before she gazed up at Alex. “I cannot bear it.”

  “I see,” he said. Alex rose from the chair, careful not to disturb his son, and laid him gently into his crib. He turned back and took Giana’s hands in his. “You know I never wanted to love you,” he said. “But it appears I can do nothing about it.”

  “Would you marry me, Alex?”

  He stood very still, his hand tightening about hers.

  “I know that I would give my life for you. Since that is true, it seems rather ridiculous of me not to trust you with mine. Please marry me, Alex. I will try very hard to make you happy with me.”

  “Make me reconciled to my fate?”

  “Yes, if fate it is.”

  He was silent for a moment, as if in deep thought. He said finally, his voice carefully neutral, “Since it has been my fate to know you, you have managed to turn my world upside down and backwards. Just this morning, I found a gray hair in my head. To spend the rest of my miserable life with you is a daunting thought. You will argue with me endlessly, I’m certain, and doubtless you will never be brought to heel.”

  “Brought to heel. Let me see this gray hair, Alex. I don’t believe you.” She tugged at his head to bring him to her, but he clasped her wrists in his hands and held them against his chest.

  “I’ll wager you will even refuse to embroider new chair covers for my library.”

  She leaned against him, pressing her cheek against his hands as they held hers so closely. “Please do not tease me, Alex, until you consent to marry me. I’m frightened.”

  “You changed your gown,” he said.

  “You may rip it if you like.”

  “Only if I agree to marry you.”

  Anna Carruthers suddenly appeared in the nursery doorway. She gazed at the embracing couple, and smiled.

  “If you will excuse us, ma’am,” Alex said. Without another word, he scooped Giana up in his arms and carried her from the nursery.

  “Alex.”

  When she breathed his name again, it was in passion as he moved deep within her. She had climaxed once before, so quickly, that she hid her face against his shoulder. And she called his name when the rippling sensations built in her again, making her legs tighten about his flanks. He arched his back, a deep moan breaking from his throat, and surged into her wildly. He was still only a moment, then moved against her again, stroking and caressing her until she was crying with the pleasure of it.

  “I will marry you,” he said when she had quieted.

  Giana gazed up at his dark face above hers and smiled. “I love you, Alex, dearly, with all my heart. Please, let those words be enough, for there is all the trust you could ever wish in them.”

  “You are late for dinner,” the duke said, looking from Alex to Giana. A slow smile spread over his face. “Well, my boy, if she looked any softer, you could spread her on your bread.”

  Alex squeezed Giana’s hand and said, “She is but a woman, sir, and cannot hide her cream-fed victory over me, a mere mortal man.”

  “I am leaving for California tomorrow,” Delaney said. “If I am scalped by Indians, contrive to remember me.”

  “I think, Delaney,” Aurora said, “that you should come back to England with us for a visit. Perhaps it is there your destiny lies. Who knows?”

  “I shall consider it, ma’am. Yes, I shall consider it.”

  “New York isn’t precisely Paris,” the duke said.

  “True,” Giana said. “But New York is so full of life, and people from all over the world, and so free.”

  “Bravo, Giana,” Alex said, sitting back in his chair.

  “Well, my love,” the duke continued to Aurora, “I must admit to being most impressed with our colonies. And we are so close now, why the Sirius crossed the Atlantic in under two weeks. Of course we would have endured much more to see your dewy-eyed bundle.”

  “Was I dewy-eyed, Papa?” Leah asked.

  “N
o, you were a wrinkled little red monkey,” Delaney said. “I remember it quite well. But your papa decided to keep you.”

  “Glad I did, puss.”

  The duke turned his silvery eyes to Delaney. “ California, my dear boy. Gad, it seems impossible that you colonists have stretched your hands all the way to the Pacific.”

  “Only the Pacific could have stopped us, sir,” Alex said.

  “I had wondered,” Delaney said suddenly, “where Giana had got all her beauty. You, ma’am, are a lovely lady, if you will excuse the impertinence of a simple colonist.”

  “Marriage has improved her,” Alex said, grinning at his mother-in-law.

  “Hear, Aurora,” Damien said. “The lad is surprisingly wise.”

  “For a mere colonist,” Giana said.

  “Did I tell you, Alex,” the duke said, “about the railroad car Aurora had her fellow design for me? It sports the Arlington crest and runs nearly to our home in the country.”

  “I would have supposed, sir,” Giana said, “that all your affairs now prosper from my mother’s hand.”

  “What’s-his-name seems to smile a lot,” Damien said, sipping at the light red French wine, a present from Aurora.

  “You do not act like Giana and Father,” Leah announced, seeing the duke lightly caress Aurora’s hand.

  “Ah, in what way?” Delaney asked.

  Giana shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

  “You look at each other so softly. And you’re always touching.”

  Alex rose slowly from his chair at the head of the dinner table, winked at his daughter, and walked to where Giana sat, her face flushed with embarrassment. He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. He leaned down and gently kissed her full on the mouth.

  “Alex.”

  “They will simply have to get used to us looking soft, my love.”

  “The lad needed but a superb example,” the duke said.

  “Oh my,” Leah said, her eyes widening.

  “The lad,” Delaney said, “hates to be outdone in any arena. Prepare yourself, Giana, to look soft from now on.”