by Unknown
But she had made a grave error of judgment in not telling Linton; or perhaps the error had been in telling him. If he was now disgusted with her . . . supposing he could no longer desire her, knowing what she had done. Danielle tossed and turned, for some reason icy cold although it was a warm night. It would
not be surprising if he found her body distasteful and the idea that she could enter the act of loving simply for pleasure, hideously immodest. But he had taught her how to take that pleasure freely and joyfully. The nightmare picture of a loveless marriage where the conjugal union was simply undertaken for reproductive purposes tormented her thoughts. At some point she must give her husband an heir and maybe from now on he would only take her for that purpose. It would be an appallingly appropriate punishment. She would have no weapons then with which to fight Margaret Mainwairing, or any of the others who would fill Justin's empty arms. She shivered and flung herself onto her face, hugging a thick feather pillow hoping for warmth and comfort. None was forthcoming from the inanimate object and Danielle knew that she had no choice. Torturing herself with fruitless speculation would achieve nothing. She must find out the extent of Justin's wrath and what he intended to do. Maybe he would, indeed, divorce her. No, that was impossible, the House of Linton would tolerate no scandal of such magnitude, but he could do as the Prince of Wales had done with poor Princess Caroline and force a separation by locking her away in miserable exile in the country ...
This was ridiculous! Danielle flung aside the covers and sprang determinedly out of bed. Typically, she didn't think to cover her nakedness as she gently turned the knob on the door to her husband's room
and slipped into the moon-washed chamber. She could hear only his deep, rhythmic breathing and stood immobile for a moment. Somehow she had expected him to be wide awake, tossing and turning miserably as she had been, and the idea that he had fallen so quickly asleep, Danielle found callous, disconcerting, and perversely annoying.
In fact, Justin was not asleep but at the sound of the turning knob had instinctively deepened his breathing and now watched the still figure in the moonlight through half-closed eyes. She was so damnably beautiful with those proud, perfect breasts, the narrow waist and flat belly and that impudent, entrancing little rear. Just what was she intending to do? he wondered—knowing Danielle, nothing predictable.
She stole on tiptoe across the room and round to the far side of the bed. Justin closed his eyes completely and waited with interest. Danielle shivered and with sudden resolve gently pulled back the covers and insinuated herself carefully beneath them. She lay very still, scarcely breathing until she was sure her movements had not disturbed her slumbering husband; but his breathing continued unchanged except for a small snore. Danielle tried to relax, but she was still freezing. She inched experimentally toward the figure at the far side of the bed, and when nothing changed edged closer still until some of the heat radiating from his body lapped her skin. Danielle turned softly onto her side, facing away from him, the only position she ever found comfortable for sleep, but it still wasn't right—she needed his skin. He was so deeply asleep he wouldn't even notice, she decided crossly, and traversed the final few inches.
"Danielle! Your bottom's like a block of ice!" Justin yelped, shocked out of his pretended slumber.
"You weren't ever asleep," Danny accused indignantly. "I was trying so hard not to wake you and you were awake all the time."
"I was," he agreed. "But I had a lively desire to discover what you were about. Why are you so cold, child?"
"Because I'm unhappy," she wailed. "Are you not?"
"Not particularly. I was too angry to be unhappy."
"Was?" she asked with a tremor of hope.
There was a long silence before Justin replied. "For some extraordinary reason I find it impossible to remain angry with you for more than a few moments. I never know what you will do or say next and
I don't imagine I ever shall. I have to remind myself constantly of your strange upbringing. I just wish
I had thought a little more of the consequences of that upbringing before ..."
"Before you married me," Danielle finished for him as cold fingers of desolation crept across her skin.
"Certainly," he agreed. "It would not have changed my plans in the least, but I would have been better prepared for disclosures of the kind you were considerate enough to make this night."
"I should not have told you then. Maman said that no husband could understand or accept a wife's need for control over . . ." She fell silent as Justin seized her chin between fingers that gripped like pincers and glowered down at her.
"You should have told me at once" he declared with careful emphasis. "I do not know what reason I may have given you for casting me in the role of some brutish lout who would keep you forever with a child
in your belly. Had you made your feelings clear, there were certain precautions I could have taken myself and would have done so willingly."
"I did not think of that." Danielle frowned, diverted by the idea. "I am sure, since you have presumably fathered no bastards, that you are accustomed to such things . . . with Lady Mainwairing, no doubt?"
"We will leave Lady Mainwairing out of this, if you please, and anyone else that you think to drag into this discussion," he said, a razor's edge to his voice. "Why did you not trust me?"
Her unruly tongue again! Why had she mentioned Margaret? Now she had both to evade the question
and retrieve the situation. Danielle thought rapidly.
"It was not a matter of trust, Justin. It was just that so many things are so very new to me and I am used to managing alone and . . . and ... I daresay I make the wrong decision at times. But I did not mistrust you."
Not in that way, at least, and the truth shone clear in the wide brown eyes beneath him and Justin sighed in resignation.
It was pointless to play outraged husband, however legitimately, in the face of this extraordinary innocence that marched hand in hand with a powerful sense of self-determination and a knowledge of
the world's vicissitudes that far exceeded her years. He'd married Danielle de St. Varennes for all those reasons and there was no going back, even had he wished to do so. And he most definitely did not.
"I would like you to think very carefully if there is anything else I should know . . . anything at all," he stated. "I had thought we were done with secrets after the previous affair, but clearly this one escaped your, notice. Are there any others?" Danny shook her head. "Be sure of yourself, Danielle," he warned. "If anything comes to light after this, you will not find me so tolerant again."
"There is nothing." His affairs with Louise Rockford and Margaret Mainwairing were no secret to Justin, after all, and there was nothing she was doing that he did not know about. Danielle quietened the voice
of conscience that mocked the spurious nature of such an argument. She touched his face with gentle fingers, smoothing the frown lines between the straight eyebrows. "I cannot promise never to do things that I will not tell you about, but they will be small things of no importance."
"Like what?" he asked cautiously.
"Like going to a public ridotto at Ranelagh when you had said it would be a vulgar masquerade and I would not enjoy it in the least."
"And did you enjoy it?" His eyes gleamed.
"No, you were quite correct. I thought it pretty at first, but it became tedious and Tony was very happy
to escort me home at an early hour. But I wished to see it for myself, you understand."
"Of course," he agreed smoothly. "Why should you accept the second-hand opinion of your husband, after all?"
"You did not exactly forbid it," she reminded him, moving her hands to the well-muscled shoulders.
"I was not aware, Wife, that I was in the habit of forbidding anything. I know better than to throw down the glove where you're concerned." His head went back as Danielle's hands moved over his chest, pushing him down onto the bed beside her, flicking her tongue across
his belly. And Paris? The question died on her lips. Time enough tomorrow to deal with that question. Her head moved downwards and Justin groaned softly as she pleasured him with mouth and fingers and took her own joy from the giving.
Chapter 15
It was nearly midmorning before the earl and his countess awoke and the life of the household continued in quiet deference to the sleeping master and mistress. Petersham and Molly waited in the kitchen as they had been doing since seven o'clock, neither of them commenting on whatever extraordinary circumstance had turned the normally early risers abovestairs into slugabeds this morning.
Peter, who had been waiting since eight-thirty to discuss with my lord his travel plans and itinerary, paced restlessly around his room, mentally running through the arrangements. A message had been sent to Forster to ready the Black Gull for voyage. He would need a day or so to retrieve the crew from their shore leave and most probably to sober them up. Since the yacht was to remain in Calais to await the earl's return from Paris, they would need adequate provisions as the English sailors treated French food with the utmost disdain—red meat and plentiful supplies of ale would be needed.
Justin awoke first. As he stirred, the small figure beside him muttered in protest and snuggled closer. Smiling, he turned on his back, relinquishing his spoon-shaped hold on her body. There was another protesting murmur and she wriggled backward against him. He patted her hip. "Danny, wake up. It's
past ten o'clock."
"It cannot be!" Danielle's eyes shot open and she struggled up against the pillows. "How have we slept
so long?"
"It was near morning when we went to sleep—or have you forgotten?" he teased.
Danielle had not forgotten and her dimples peeped.
Justin laughed. "Come, brat. You must return to your own bed and summon Molly, and I must get up.
I have much to do today."
The latter statement brought a small pout to the full lips as she remembered the Paris journey, but to Justin's relief she made no comment and slipped from the bed to stretch luxuriously in the morning sunlight. His loins stirred at the sight of that warm supple body that a few hours ago had flown with him to the heights of ecstasy. "Please, Danielle," he begged huskily, "do that where I may not see you. I become uncomfortable."
"Then I shall make you comfortable." Danielle leaped onto the bed with a chuckle and pulled off the covers. "Why, my lord," she declared in feigned awe. "You must indeed be uncomfortable. Let me
just. . ."
"No!" he exclaimed as her hands reached for him. He wrestled her backward and then himself sprang from the bed. "Out!" He strode to the door to her chamber and opened it.
Danielle linked her hands behind her head and moved her body seductively on the bed, her tongue running over her lips as she regarded him through eyes narrowed with desire and challenge.
"Well, don't say you were not warned." Grinning broadly, Justin crossed back to the bed. Danny squealed as he hauled her upright, put one broad shoulder against her stomach, and tossed her over effortlessly.
"Brute! This is no way to treat a wife." She pounded his back with her fists and the broad shoulder beneath her quivered with merriment.
"That rather depends on the wife," he declared, striding with her into the other room. "This one deserves little respect." She was dumped in an unceremonious heap into the middle of her own bed and lay laughing up at him, her hair fanned out over the coverlet.
"Kiss me good morning, Husband."
"When you are dressed," he told her firmly. "I have not sufficient willpower to do so, now."
"Then I shall claim it anon," she responded.
"I await the moment most eagerly, ma'am." He bowed punctiliously and Danielle went into a peal of laughter at the ludicrous combination of his nakedness and the elegance of the movement.
Justin beat a hasty retreat and she pulled the bell for Molly, arranging herself decorously in the cold unslept-in bed. She had some careful thinking to do. When Molly appeared with the tray of hot chocolate and sweet biscuits, she found her mistress somewhat abstracted.
Danielle had no intention whatsoever of being left behind when Justin went to Paris. Such a shared adventure would suit her plans to perfection. They would be partners in an endeavor that would exclude all others, and Justin would know that only his wife could partner him on such an expedition. Her presence would only be useful and his scruples about exposing her to danger were quite ridiculous when one considered her past and what she was presently doing amongst her countrymen. How best to persuade him of this was the puzzle. He had been alarmingly definite last night, but then matters had become somewhat confused and since the confusion now appeared to be sorted out quite satisfactorily, Danielle could see no reason why he should persist in his obstinacy.
"Molly, I shall take a bath," she announced. "You will put out the new morning gown—the gold cambric, if you please."
Molly assented with a bob. Within the hour Danielle was examining her appearance with considerable satisfaction. The gold of her gown did very nice things to her eyes, and her hair, freshly washed and curled at Molly's expert hands, feathered around her face in an artfully ingenuous style. Milord should find the picture irresistible, Danny decided, dismissing the tiny stab of doubt with a nonchalant shrug.
She descended the broad staircase with a light step, greeted Bedford with a radiant smile and asked
where My Lord was to be found.
"In Mr. Haversham's room, my lady."
"Thank you, Bedford." She tripped down the corridor in her silk-shod feet, knocked perfunctorily on
the door to Peter's small sanctum and entered immediately.
"Good morning, Peter," she said cheerfully.
"Good morning, Lady Danny." Peter put down his papers hastily and bowed, but not before Danielle
had seen the appreciative flash in his eyes.
"My lord, I am come to claim a promise."
The earl's lips twitched as he put up his glass and examined her appearance. "That is a most fetching gown, my love."
"Is it not?" She twirled with a satisfying swish. "You are not, I hope, milord, going to renege on your debt."
"How could you ever think such a thing?" he chided, holding the door for her to pass out. "Shall we go into the library?"
"As you wish, sir." The look she cast her husband pricked Peter Haversham with envy. Dolly Grant would make him a good wife when he was in a position to offer for her, but he began to wonder whether he wished for a "good" wife, modest and well aware of her place, stolidly willing to help his career, run his household, and bear his children. It had been the perfect dream that one day he would turn into reality, until the Countess of Linton had indicated what a marriage could be like.
While Peter cogitated in his solitary room, the Earl of Linton was making good his promise to his wife in the library. The good-morning kiss was remarkably thorough and it was a somewhat disheveled Danielle who eventually drew back with kiss-reddened lips and tousled hair.
She had little of the true coquette in her makeup and came straight to the point without considering whether a little further flirtation might ease her path. "About Paris, Justin."
Linton sighed and wondered why he had thought the matter closed. "No, Danielle. I said that was my
last word and so it remains."
"But you have not censidered," she said firmly. Justin waited in patient resignation. "I will not be a hindrance to you, quite the contrary. I will be in no danger, or at least," she amended with scrupulous honesty, "no more than I am accustomed to. I am not enceinte and I am able to gather information that Milord Chatham will find useful. We will travel in whatever guise you choose, and you should know that
I can keep up with you on horseback, even riding sidesaddle and . . ."
"Danielle, I do not doubt your riding skill or your ability to respond effectively to potential danger. I have not stood in the way of your work in London, but I will not take you with me to Pari
s. I am prepared to spy for Pitt myself, but I will not involve you. The matter is at an end."
Danielle heard the decisive note, the implacable ring in the level voice. "Spying is a harsh word, sir," she said quietly.
"It is, nevertheless, the correct one. I shall be in search of information and I do not wish those who furnish me with that information to be aware of my purpose. There is, therefore, double jeopardy. There is turbulence in the streets and should my purpose become known the personal danger will be doubled. I cannot keep my wits about me when I must worry about your safety."
"I am able to take a care for myself," Danny reiterated.
Justin gave up the attempt to reason with her. "You are my wife, ma'am, although you appear to forget that fact. Your safety and your welfare are my responsibility and mine alone. I choose not to jeopardize either. If you refer to the subject again, I shall postpone my departure for as long as it will take to see you safely to Danesbury where you will remain, under watchful eyes, until my return. Do we understand each other?"
