Phantasmagoria

by Madelynne Ellis

  For several breathless moments, the blow met with no discernable effect, then Vaughan stumbled, his rhythm disrupted. He staggered forwards, tripped over Gabriel, who still lay sprawled where he’d first fallen, and landed face down upon de Maresi.

  The Frenchman grunted in shock, then laughter bubbled from his lips, joyous and lewd, but his mirth lasted but a second, as blood dripped from Vaughan’s nose onto his lily-white cheek.

  The ladies scrambled around them in shock.

  ‘Get me out of this damn sack,’ Vaughan bellowed, and Bella applied herself to the knot.

  Raffe paused to look back, fear in his grey eyes. He began to apologise, only for Henry to leap past him into the lead. ‘Goddammit, man!’ He lurched forwards in pursuit, but his heart wasn’t in it or his legs were too tired, for although he wheezed like a consumptive miner, Henry increasingly lengthened the gap between them. He bounded over the finish line, just as Bella succeeded in releasing Vaughan from the sack.

  Handkerchief pressed to his bloody nose, Vaughan scrambled over de Maresi and Gabriel with little thought to their discomfort and stalked from the hall, with a muffled curse of ‘Damn fool game.’

  Bella longed to follow him to make sure he was all right. She’d never seen him injured before, and the sight of his blood made her heart beat with a rapid cadence. Fortuna, she noticed, had turned a distinctly sallow colour and had flopped into an armchair where Aunt Beatrice was soothingly fanning her.

  ‘Bella, he’ll be fine,’ Niamh called, and beckoned her to her side. ‘He’s survived far worse.’

  Bella joined her on the fireside chaise alongside the victorious Henry, who was gulping a celebratory glass of Madeira, while Niamh surreptitiously washed away the remains of his streaky cosmetics.

  Bella gaped at him. There was something unnervingly intimate about seeing him thus exposed without his paint and his patches and his thick layer of powder to hide behind. Niamh, on the other hand, seemed enchanted with the revelation, as if she’d found something she’d been looking for, but hadn’t quite realised until that point.

  ‘I hope you won’t be offended if I decline the offer of a dress,’ she said. Bella didn’t catch the rest of her words, for she leaned close and whispered into Henry’s ear but she could guess.

  ‘Fortuna, Fortuna, dear.’ Mrs Alvanley continued to waft her noxious smelling salts beneath the nose of her eldest niece who Bella swore was faking her distress, purely for attention.

  She crossed to where Raffe stood by the fireplace, now free of his sack. ‘Idiot,’ she scolded. ‘Best pray you haven’t broken his nose.’

  His smoky grey eyes thinned to enraged slits. ‘He belted me a few good ones too. If you’d paid more attention you’d have noticed, and the other three were far from innocent. Why do you think de Maresi and Gabriel ended up on the floor?’

  Bella could think of a whole host of reasons, but grudgingly admitted that it hadn’t exactly been fair play all round.

  Raffe threw a few more logs on the fire, and prodded them into place with the poker.

  ‘I can’t meet you,’ she said.

  Grimly, he raised his head and conceded with a nod.

  Bella fished the note from her sleeve where she’d placed it after reading it and fed it to the flames.

  ‘I trust he brings sweeter satisfaction,’ he said, as the paper crumbled to ash.

  13

  BELLA LEFT THE house immediately after breakfast so as to avoid Mrs Alvanley’s accomplishments’ practice. The chaperone had decided the morning would be best spent capturing the southern transcript of the church on canvas and Bella, who barely knew one end of a paintbrush from the other, excused herself on the pretence of riding, the one activity she was apparently allowed to enjoy unchaperoned and unaccompanied. Unfortunately she arrived at the stable to discover Gabriel and de Maresi had arrived ahead of her.

  Morosely, she watched them leave the yard, then ventured into the coach house to hide until Mrs Alvanley’s entourage had passed.

  ‘Vaughan!’ she said. He was standing in a dark corner, his back to her.

  He spun to face her, a fishing rod and what appeared to be a tatty brown blanket clutched to his chest. ‘Bella! Not improving yourself with the ladies?’

  ‘Might I join you?’ She nodded at his accessories.

  Vaughan wrinkled his nose which she was relieved to see was not even bruised. ‘Ah! Well, I’m not actually doing any fishing. I was just sorting a few things out.’

  Bella eyed him sceptically. Gentlemen, in her experience, didn’t ‘just sort things out’.

  ‘We could walk instead.’ He stuffed the rod and blanket into a box of horse tackle and took her hand. ‘I’ll show you the lake.’

  Bella stared at his fingers laced with hers, remaining rooted to the spot. This was all surprisingly charming, which meant he was almost certainly up to something.

  ‘Where do you want this … ?’ Henry Tristan swished into the coach house, stopped abruptly, then backed out as rapidly as he’d entered. ‘No matter. I’m sure Jenkins can help sort it out.’

  ‘Is that the straw delivery?’ Vaughan called.

  ‘Erm, yes.’

  ‘Excellent. Stack it in the hayloft!’

  Bella watched the performance in stupefied silence. Excellent! Since when did Vaughan describe anything as excellent? ‘What are you up to?’

  Vaughan gave her a guileless smile. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Now, about that walk, or would you prefer to spend the morning embroidering one of Aunt Beatrice’s tammys?’

  The lake was not far from the castle. It fed the moat via an underground stream, which Vaughan helpfully pointed out as they strode over the springy turf. Nearer the bank, the long grass gave way to reeds, and birdsong to the chirp of crickets. He took her out in a little blue boat. Bella sat in the bow, watching ripples spreading out in concentric circles as the paddle dipped in and out of the water.

  Near the centre, he stopped paddling and let them drift.

  ‘You should have brought your fishing rod,’ she said.

  ‘Hmm.’ He leaned forwards and put an arm around her shoulder. He pulled her against his chest. ‘I was never much for fishing.’ Bella settled against him, listening to his heartbeat, content to remain for ever, or at least until a crick formed in her neck and the sun went down.

  ‘Vaughan, is this where you grew up?’

  ‘Mostly.’

  She almost caught a glimpse of him: a thin pale youth, with a mass of black hair and an indolent smile, but the image wouldn’t solidify into anything tangible. ‘Where else?’

  Cheek pressed to her head, he began to work the pins from her hair. ‘Don’t you know enough about me already?’

  ‘Actually, I know very little, despite having shared your bed for three years.’

  ‘Shared Lucerne’s bed.’ One shiny pin went sailing into the air and vanished below the surface of the pond. ‘You’ve never shared mine.’

  A moment’s silence stretched between them. Bella toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat. ‘But there are other houses, aren’t there?’

  ‘A few,’ he responded. ‘Why the sudden interest? You’re not eyeing me up as a potential husband, I trust.’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s just that you’re not a gentleman, are you? You’re a nobleman. It never sunk in before.’

  With a snort of disgust, Vaughan pushed himself into an upright position. ‘I’m so gratified you clarified that remark. Not a gentleman.’ He snorted again. Eyes narrowed under long dark lashes, his lips twitched as a salacious smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and he pushed a hand inside the front of her dress. ‘You can darn well say that again.’

  ‘Vaughan.’ She batted him away, conscious that her action caused the little boat to rock unsteadily.

  ‘Bella.’ He eyed her curiously, his violet eyes calculating and intense.

  ‘Are there other titles as well as houses?’

  ‘Lord and master.’ The remark s
et her eyes rolling and earned him a dismissive tut.

  ‘Very well, sixth Marquis of Pennerley, Earl of Oswestry, Earl of Craven and yes, there are other estates, one in Rutland, one in Cheshire and one in North Yorkshire near Middleham. Satisfied? Oh, and the house in London.’

  ‘That’s yours,’ she gasped. ‘I thought it was –’

  ‘Lucerne’s. Well, you thought wrong. Lucerne rented his previous quarters, which were hardly a suitable abode for a lady.’

  ‘Oh!’ So she’d lived in his house and hadn’t even realised. The knowledge made her feel strangely excluded as if they’d been keeping secrets from her, which was probably just silly. It was her own fault for making assumptions.

  The wind blew and ruffled her clothing. Vaughan drummed his fingers on the side of the boat. ‘Stop sulking. I want to hear what you got up to with Raffe.’

  Bella scowled. ‘Nothing. I didn’t meet him.’

  Vaughan rolled his eyes, and clasped his hands before him, so the tips pressed to his sensual lips. That mannerism again. ‘How exquisitely dull.’

  Really, he was the most impossible man. If she hadn’t been stuck in a blasted boat with him she’d have stormed off. To think how he raged over Niamh being with the man she loved, and then calmly expected her to bed down with whomever, for his entertainment, that was too much. She lowered her head and pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes.

  She felt the boat tip as he shifted position. The resulting waves lapped merrily at the sides. Vaughan’s breath whispered across the back of her neck, causing the hairs to stand on end. ‘You’re thinking about my sister.’ Moist lips pressed to the sensitive skin, sending a shiver of anticipation rolling through her suddenly tensed body. Unconsciously, she leaned into the caress.

  ‘It’s not as if I can actually do anything to stop her. She’s of age, Bella.’

  ‘But you’re making her life hell.’ As he continually made hers.

  ‘No, I’m saving her from a life of hell. He doesn’t love her, he’s using her for her assets.’

  His lips continued to trouble the curve of her throat, gliding over her skin like a dragonfly over the surface of the lake, in flighty, delicate little bursts, which nevertheless raised a heat, both across her skin and in her belly.

  ‘You seem very sure. How can you know that?’

  ‘Shh!’ He pressed his index finger to her lips.

  ‘It’s just a game to you.’ She batted his hand away and turned her head to better see him. ‘Is what’s going on with Lucerne a game too?’’

  Vaughan rested his cheek upon her shoulder. ‘That is no game. There’s too much at stake. I ran. I hoped he’d follow.’ He rubbed a circle against her skin with his cheek. ‘Maybe I even hoped you’d follow. There is something quite delicious about you.’ He stuck out his tongue and drew it up the side of her neck, creating a cold, tingly trail that culminated in the nip of his teeth upon her earlobe.

  ‘I doubt you thought of me at all.’

  ‘On that, too, you’re wrong. I thought of you an awful lot. I’m thinking of you now.’ His hands slipped around her until they cupped her breasts. The sensation of his fingers spread across her sensitive flesh, holding her, supporting her, making the fire he’d raised burn a little fiercer. But there was a certain irritability to what he was doing too. He was using her, and she didn’t want to be used. She didn’t want to be his whore; she wanted to be more than that. She wanted to be in that place in his heart he reserved entirely for Lucerne.

  ‘Oh, Christ!’ he muttered. ‘ Don’t go maudlin on me in the middle of a lake. We were just starting to have fun. What’s the matter? You’re up and down like the wind.’

  ‘Can’t you figure it out?’ she snarled as the bubble of irritability burst.

  Vaughan shuffled round to face her. He stared at her long and hard. ‘Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe, I’d rather just shag you until you smile. It seems a lot simpler, somehow.’

  Bella shoved him, and he toppled back against the prow, causing the boat to rear and dip into the lake. ‘You’ve vile and cruel, and if I had any sense I’d make you take me ashore and take up with Devonshire instead. Likely he’d see me better off.’

  Vaughan gave an incredulous snort that quickly developed into a full-blown laugh. ‘Better with Raffe, oh, that’s good. You don’t even like him enough to meet him when you’re gagging for it.’

  Bella scowled, but Vaughan wasn’t finished. His voice dropped an octave, and crawled across her senses making each nerve vibrate. ‘That and you’re forgetting. You like it when I’m cruel.’

  ‘I like it when you satisfy me,’ she growled.

  Vaughan maintained his mordant smile. ‘Do I not always satisfy you, ultimately?’

  Perhaps he did. Maybe that was the reason she kept coming back for more, no matter how infuriating she found him, or how much he swung her emotions.

  ‘What do you want?’ he hissed.

  Bella’s gaze flitted nervously across his face. Would he give or do the opposite of what she asked? She pursed her lips. What did she want? She thought she wanted him, wholly and completely, but hadn’t she once thought that about Lucerne too? What if all she really craved was what she couldn’t have?

  ‘Very well, Miss Unforthcoming, how about I tell you what I think you want?’

  Her mind conjured an array of images, one illustration after another, of things he might do, of things she wanted. Clearest came a vision of him prone in the bottom of the boat, his pantaloons unfastened to reveal his erection and her straddled across his hips, her skirts covering his face as she rose and fell upon his cock, driving them to mutual ecstasy.

  Tentatively, she placed a hand upon his thigh. ‘Take me as a woman.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Vaughan licked his lips. ‘Because until he tells me otherwise, you’re Lucerne’s.’

  ‘What if he never tells you? What if he doesn’t come?’

  Vaughan’s eyes darkened. ‘Then you’ll have to wait a long time.’

  ‘I’ve waited long enough already. Take me ashore.’

  Vaughan resumed his seat but, instead of taking up the oars, he simply stretched with his hands on his head and closed his eyes.

  Furious, Bella grabbed the oars and struggled to row but couldn’t seem to get them to work in unison. She succeeded only in turning the boat one hundred and eighty degrees, whereupon she dropped them in disgust. Vaughan peeped at her from below his eyelashes. ‘ Guess you should have met Raffe. He’s desperate to stick it up you.’

  Bella prodded him in the stomach with the wet end of one oar.

  Vaughan sat abruptly and batted at the wet patch on his waistcoat. ‘That was uncalled for.’ The little boat lurched as he tipped her backwards beneath him. Water crashed over the sides, soaking them both. One oar went overboard and sailed off towards the reed beds on the back of a wave.

  In terror, Bella clung to him. Wet clothes pressed to her skin, pinned her just as surely as his body. Water dripped from his ringlets onto her face, where they ran like tears over her cheeks. The ridge of his cock warmed her thigh, then his kiss came, carnal and forceful. It stole her breath and her thoughts, so that all she could do was moan and respond.

  Her hair was wet. She lay in a puddle, but his scent was so strong, her emotions so tangled, that her resistance faltered.

  Vaughan drew back, his smile hinting at mischief. ‘I could take you now, as per your request, but the boat’s already swimming and I’m in no mood for subtleties. It’s your choice, Bella. Shall I raise these sodden skirts and plough you deep, until the boat sinks and we’re dragged to the murky depths?’

  ‘Take me on the shore.’

  He shook his head. ‘Where would be the thrill in that?’

  ‘Vaughan … please.’ She pushed her hand between their bodies and kneaded his cock where it lay trapped beneath his tight pantaloons.

  ‘Here or nothing,’ he said, stilling her wrist.

  ‘I can’t swim.
’

  ‘Ah! And I gather I’m not worth drowning for?’

  Bella frowned and tightened a hand over his bottom, but he merely raised both eyebrows to reiterate the question. ‘Fine,’ she snarled. ‘Take me ashore.’

  Vaughan took up the remaining oar and paddled back to the boathouse. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he said, when she climbed out onto the stone steps. He clasped his arms about her waist and lifted her back into the boat.

  Bella squealed, but didn’t dare kick, as he deposited her in the centre of the boat.

  Precariously balanced, with his legs spread wide, Vaughan unfastened her dress and let it fall in a soggy heap at their feet, where it instantly soaked up much of the water sluicing about. Her shift was also wet, but he left that on and tucked it up into the bottom of her stays at the front. The top four hooks on her stays were next, just enough so that her breasts spilled over the top, warm and soft into his palms.

  ‘What now, my wanton nymph? Should I take you standing up in this floating bathtub?’

  Bella wriggled as much as she dared, feeling the wet cloth of his coat cold against her skin. ‘You weren’t intending to take me, as I recall.’

  ‘No.’ He shrugged off his coat, which landed with a soggy plop, sending the boat juddering. ‘I said I wouldn’t come in your cunt.’

  Now his loins pressed teasingly against her rear, wetting her appetite for him a little more. ‘Dammit, Bella, I’m as ripe as a plum for you.’

  ‘Are you?’ She stepped out of the boat again and this time he followed her out of the shadowy boathouse, with its watery echo and green-tinged internal hue, into the meadow that bordered the lake. ‘Take me, then.’ There was only one way he could take her here, in daylight in a field overlooked by the castle, without risking arrest.

  Vaughan stared at her naked quim, an untroubled smile playing upon his lips. ‘ The grass is long. Don’t assume you’ve outwitted me. Besides, the only windows that look this way are in my room and Niamh’s, and she knows when to turn her head. Although, Lord knows, maybe if she took notes occasionally she might have half an idea about men.’