Wedded for His Secret Child

by Helen Dickson

  When they had met in the Spring Gardens she had imagined herself in love with him. His lips twisted grimly. He found it hard to believe that anyone could actually love him—not his money, not his power—but him. Melissa was the only woman he knew for whom he could ever imagine risking his heart again or baring his soul. Recalling how quickly she had melted in his arms with such ardour during the times they had made love, he did not have the slightest doubt of his own ability to eventually lure her into his bed again.

  A few weeks in his bed, her spirit would be broken and he’d have her purring like a kitten. Yet, he thought, staring down into his glass and unable to suppress the smile that curved his lips, her courage and her spirit was what he admired most about her and God help him if he did anything to destroy that. She was also a natural-born temptress with the smile of an angel. She would never bore him, he was certain of that.

  He realised he had come to care for her deeply. His growing need for her made him vulnerable and he could not bear the thought of being apart from her.

  To his amazement a gentle tapping on the connecting door intruded into the quiet of the room. With enormous vitality his blood raced through his veins. Crossing to the door and flinging it open, he saw her standing there like a spirit of the night in a long, white, clinging nightgown, her glorious wealth of dark hair falling down her back. She did not move or speak, but gazed at him, her enormous eyes searching his face. Laurence couldn’t believe his good fortune that she had come to him. His heart slammed into his ribs as he stared at her, tracing with his gaze the classically beautiful lines of her face, the brush of lustrous ebony eyelashes, and saw the invitation in her imploring amber eyes. Hope and disbelief collided in his chest.

  The grin he gave her was positively wicked as his appreciative gaze slid over her. ‘What took you so long?’ he murmured. Then, taking her hand, he drew her inside and closed the door.

  Drawing her further into the room, Laurence could find no words to break the spell. Melissa’s lips parted in a low, wordless moan as his arms went about her, folding her in his embrace.

  ‘You came,’ he whispered, his lips against her hair.

  ‘Yes. I thought it would be nice to try out your bed—to see if it’s as comfortable as mine.’

  ‘I’ll remember to ask your verdict later, my love,’ he murmured.

  As he took her face between his hands, his lips touched hers, testing their softness, tasting, caressing, rousing until her arms crept up his chest and around his neck. Her lips quivered and opened beneath his—like a flower, he thought, its petals filled with nectar which she was offering to him. The kiss deepened, becoming one of urgent hunger, drawing from her soft sighs of contentment, of pleasure and anticipation of what was to come. Laurence bent and his arm went behind her knees, lifting her up and carrying her to his bed, placing her on the covers.

  Discarding his robe, he lay beside her, drawing her into his arms, claiming her lips once more before trailing a molten path downward to her neck and the peaks of her breasts straining at the fabric of her nightgown. His hands moved over her, persistent, demanding, Melissa tempting his every move with a kiss, until Laurence pulled her beneath him, possessing her with naked abandon, sweeping her along with him every step of the way.

  His senses fled, try as he did to prevent them from leaving. His breathing quickened and he was kissing her, loving the feel of her, knowing exactly what he wanted, what she wanted. Her body began to tremble and writhe against his and he heard a moan deep in her throat as he touched her. She clutched him with all of her body, welcoming his hands on her breasts. They were ripe and firm, like sweet plums. His fingers moved in a way which rubbed the nipples until they were hard. Leaning over her, he trailed his hand about her waist, over her thighs and down her legs.

  She had the scent of a woman aroused, which called to the masculine in himself. His male body had wilfully taken over from the sensible man he normally was. His lips covered her sweet body, his eyes glittering with barely controlled desire. Their passion became more ardent and they rolled over the bed, wrapped together in the same pursuit as each other. There were moments when she was astride him, her slim legs on either side until he rolled her back and had her lying down. She was squirming in his grasp and the male part of him—the physical, lusting part of him—was delighted, denied of its pleasure for so long as he adjusted her lissom body to accommodate him and herself, positioning her legs apart, ready for him.

  Melissa lay beneath him, the full weight of his body pressing hers down into the soft bed. Little moans escaped her throat at the ecstasy he aroused in her. She became helpless with desire, allowing it all to happen, wanting what he was going to do with primitive ferocity. She was vibrant with a bursting depth of passion, alive and trembling. His hands were searching and caressing. The female core of her began to soften with the physical pain of her own need.

  For a second a small voice in her head seemed to make her pause and to savour what he was doing to her, but she was acting like a crazy woman. When she felt the sudden assault of his maleness, it was so intensely satisfying and pleasurable that she almost fainted from it. She could feel him inside her, thrusting deeper and deeper, possessive, commanding. Now there was no holding back. Clinging to him as the abandonment went on, she was almost delirious with the exquisite sensations and by the powerful response of her own body. It seemed to have a will of its own.

  And then it was over. Laurence gathered her tightly into his arms as his seed spilled into her. Melissa felt a bliss so bright she thought she could not possibly endure it. He touched his lips to hers and whispered against her mouth, ‘Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.’

  His words shivered through her senses. They had pleasured one another. Already she ached for it to happen again, already she had discovered the woman in her, the latent desire she had always known deep down was there. Repositioning them both under the covers, Laurence took her into his arms once more. His hand came up to stroke her hair, but he remained conspicuously occupied by his thoughts.

  What was he thinking? Melissa wondered. Was he comparing her to Alice? When he remained silent her heart sank. If he sought his pleasures elsewhere with a mistress tucked away, it wouldn’t worry her as much as sharing him with a dead woman—although she suddenly felt a sharp pang which she recognised as jealousy, for she would not think kindly of her husband conferring on another woman the physical intimacies he had shared with her. It was the hold Alice still seemed to have on him, that even though she was no more she still held such sway over his life, that deeply concerned her.

  ‘Would you be angry if I asked you a question, Laurence?’ she asked quietly, her head resting against his chest and feeling the steady beat of his heart.

  He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Not at all—not if it’s important to you.’

  ‘It is. Did you love Alice very much?’

  Laurence’s peaceful, relaxed state quietly vanished. Only Melissa would raise such a subject at such a time. The question was indelicate in the extreme—especially after making love. But then, Melissa had never been one to follow established rules of propriety and convention. Her head was tucked under his chin and he gently placed his lips against her hair, considering her question and how best to answer it.

  ‘I suppose I did—when I married her—but she wasn’t a woman a man could love easily. She was Eliza’s friend. I met her at Antony and Eliza’s wedding. I suppose I was flattered when I realised she was attracted to me. Unfortunately, my wealth attracted her more.’

  ‘Did you know this before you married her?’

  ‘Yes, I did, but I didn’t want to believe it.’

  ‘Yet you still married her.’

  ‘I did—for the usual reasons—it was time I married and I was eager to produce an heir. Things changed when Toby was born. She began to demand more of me than I could give.’

  His voice held a raw edge of pain t
hat Melissa could feel. ‘I imagine her betrayal hurt your pride.’

  ‘Yes, but I must shoulder some of the blame for what happened. I left her alone too often and for long periods. That was when she turned back to Mortimer for comfort. Being a close neighbour, he was always sniffing round her when I was absent. I was outraged, but there was nothing I could do. If she had chosen Mortimer merely to repay me for my negligence, to arouse my jealousy, then I think I could have dealt with it better. But she genuinely loved him. I had no idea when I married her how deeply she was involved with him—that there was an understanding that they would marry. I was always too wrapped up in my own affairs to notice and if I heard a rumour too ready to discount it.’

  ‘Why didn’t she marry Sir Gerald if she loved him?’

  ‘Because he couldn’t give her what she wanted—financially—whereas I could.’ Looking down at his wife, he placed his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him, seeing the concern she clearly felt for him mirrored in her eyes. ‘Don’t concern yourself with Alice, Melissa. I mourned her death—and that of our son. But that is in the past, where she will remain. Alice seems part of another life now, another existence. My life today is not bound up with memories of her—but Toby will never leave me.’

  ‘I sincerely hope not. When she is of an age to understand, I would like you to tell Violet about her brother, for her to get to know him through you.’

  ‘She will, I promise you.’

  ‘I thought that you still loved Alice and that I compared unfavourably with your memories of her.’

  ‘Do you think that what we have just done means nothing to me, my foolish one? You are the most delightful lover any man could be fortunate enough to take to bed. Don’t ever underestimate your power over me, Melissa. In fact, you may test it again if you wish—right now.’

  Before she could react, he had captured her lips once more. Hurt and angered by his casual assessment of their relationship, wanting to announce that she would prefer to be addressed as his wife and not likened to a lover, she was tempted to shove him away, but to do that would be to incite an argument and she didn’t want to do that since she was already in danger of letting him see how desperately in love with him she was. Her heart yearned for a two-way love, not this one-sided affair, where all the emotion seemed to be on her side and where all his tenderness was simply borne out of a man’s natural lust for a woman.

  But she was his wife, his woman, he had made her so in his huge bed. For what was left of the night he showed her what her body was for, what it needed, showing her what pleasures could be had, showing her how to please him and herself, but he did not tell her that he loved her. He did want her—at least physically—his lustful wooing left her in no doubt of that. And the whispered overtures he had plied her with when he had coaxed her to yield to the delights to be found in his bed, of how his introduction to the more erotic rudiments of being a fully-fledged wife had quickened her own hunger once he had given her a taste of what to expect. But was it any different to what he would say and do to any other attractive woman?

  He had told her that Alice was in the past, that she belonged to another life. That might be so, but the pain of his first marriage was still with him, she had seen it in his eyes. Over the coming weeks and months she would do her best to help him break free of the past, without grief or guilt eating away inside him. If it took her the rest of her life she would convince him that he had a right to be in love and to someone who would love him in return.

  * * *

  Laurence awoke the next morning in a state of sated bliss. His body was wonderfully content. The rumpled bed was warm and he was extremely comfortable beneath the sheets. Allowing his eyes to open slightly, he saw a silvery light filtering through the curtains and heard birds chirruping happily in early morning song. Remembering the night past, he stretched and breathed deeply, wondering if it had all been a voluptuous dream.

  Turning his head on the pillow, he was surprised to find Melissa curled up alongside him, her hair spread in wonderful disarray over the pillows and as naked as the day she was born. Her face was turned towards him, her soft rose-red lips slightly parted and her dark lashes shadowing her cheeks as she slept. Reluctant to move lest he disturbed her, he luxuriated in the simple joy of watching her. A burst of elation exploded inside him when he remembered the beauty of her. As he inhaled her sweet scent, he knew that the memory and the peace of this moment would never leave him.

  Gently he reached out and brushed the hair back from her face. He felt her respond and heard her sigh, then her arm reached out and came to rest on his waist, edging closer until their bodies touched. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled.

  ‘Good morning, Laurence. Have you slept?’

  Chuckling softly, he drew her even closer. ‘Very little, as a matter of fact. I was pleasurably distracted for the most part. How about you?’

  ‘The same. Are you glad I knocked on your door?’

  ‘Highly delighted. Feel free to knock on my door as often as you like.’

  ‘I’ll do that. Will you kiss me so that I know I haven’t imagined what happened?’

  ‘Why? Do you doubt it?’

  ‘No—not if you kiss me.’

  Laurence was only too ready to oblige. Afterwards, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. Struggling to sit up, she looked down at him, her hair covering her bare shoulders and caressing his chest.

  ‘I think I should return to my own room. Violet will be waking soon—if she hasn’t already.’

  Laughing playfully, he drew her back down, reluctant to let her go. ‘Violet has enough nursemaids pandering to her every need. Let them get on with it while my wife panders to me.’

  Soon his laughter turned to groans of want as he found her lips and they rolled across the bed. Melissa was only too happy to fall in with his desire and her arms went around him as he kissed her throat, his lips slowly trailing down the length of her body. Her body sang vibrantly and she couldn’t have left if she’d wanted to. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she arched her back when he entered her.

  ‘My God, Melissa! What are you doing to me?’ he murmured hoarsely, capturing her lips once more in a long, drugging kiss, proceeding to love her with a slow, languorous rhythm. His control eventually slipped away as he surrendered to the glory of this woman, his wife.

  When the storm of their lovemaking had passed they lay together, Laurence’s fingers tangled in her hair.

  Melissa sighed and melted into her husband’s embrace, unable to believe that she could feel such joyous elation quivering inside. ‘I really must leave you now, Laurence.’ Rolling on to her stomach and leaning on her elbows, she hovered above him, kissing his lips before sliding to the edge of the bed. Slipping her arms into her robe, she got to her feet and glanced at him, a provocative smile curving her lips. ‘I look forward to seeing you at breakfast.’

  Chapter Nine

  Melissa’s first glimpse of Winchcombe was impressive. The house was tucked away between tall trees and huge shrubs of rhododendrons. The gardens embraced the flora of the area, but behind the apparent relaxed efficiency she imagined a team of gardeners beavering away every day of the year to produce such a haven of peace and tranquillity. Trees lined the drive and a fountain could be seen in a large courtyard. The spouting water sparkled in the sunlight and gravel crunched beneath the wheels of the carriage.

  ‘Oh, my,’ she breathed, with a growing sense of unreality. Everyone who had told her about Winchcombe had stressed what a truly grand house it was, but never had she envisaged anything like this. Winchcombe Hall was certainly not a house of modest proportions. ‘Why—it’s a lovely house. Is it very old?’

  Laurence smiled at the dazed expression of disbelief on her face, well satisfied with her reaction. ‘I’m afraid it is,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest, preferring to watch the myriad of expressions on Melissa’s face rath
er than the approaching house. ‘Built during Queen Elizabeth’s reign—it survives relatively unaltered.’

  ‘And all those windows,’ she murmured, watching as the evening sun caught the two stories of huge windows, lighting them up like a wall of flame, contrasting beautifully with the green and yellow tints and fiery shades of the surrounding foliage.

  ‘People were enthusiastic for enormous windows in those days. Glass was very expensive. People used it in large quantities to show how rich they were.’

  ‘Goodness! Your ancestors must have been very rich indeed.’

  The four bay mounts pulling the coach at last danced to a stop in front of the imposing stone-pillared entrance. The driver leaped down and held the carriage door open for them. Laurence handed Melissa down, followed by Daisy holding Violet. A servant wearing a dark green uniform edged with gold braid appeared in the open doorway, standing aside for them to enter. Other servants appeared and descended on the coach to strip it of its mountain of baggage.

  Laurence turned to Melissa. ‘Welcome to Winchcombe Hall, Melissa.’

  Her eyes wide with embarrassed admiration, Melissa turned to him. ‘It’s so grand. You might have told me,’ she uttered softly.

  ‘I hoped to surprise you.’

  ‘Well—you succeeded admirably.’

  ‘I sincerely hope you will like living here.’

  She gave him a jaunty smile and teasingly said, ‘I shall contrive to endure the hardship. How many rooms does it have?’

  Laurence laughed. ‘Would you believe it—I have no idea. We’ll count them together as some future date. Now come inside and let me introduce you to Mrs Robins and the staff. After that you will be shown to the rooms that have been set aside for you. It they are not to your liking, you can change them.’