Phantasmagoria

by Madelynne Ellis

  ‘I didn’t realise you were such an early riser.’

  ‘Always,’ he replied.

  ‘He likes to toss himself off before breakfast,’ remarked Vaughan by way of a good morning. Suave as Satan, he settled at the head of the table and emptied the teapot. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Devonshire? I can hear your piteous mewling all around the tower.’

  ‘Milord,’ said Raffe, taking his cue with a sickly pale smile. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ He bowed to Bella and, taking his breakfast with him, left in the direction of the lower parlour.

  Bella listened to Raffe’s footfalls until he reached the door, then her gaze shifted to Vaughan. His expression was drawn and cruel, his eyes beetle-black and his sensual lips pulled tight and thin.

  ‘You’re still here,’ he observed, and he stretched his fingers out over the top of his cup, so the steam curled up between his fingers. It must have burned, but he didn’t flinch.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Didn’t Lucerne explain? You should have left with him.’ Finally, he lifted his hand from the cup, to reveal the gash across his palm. She started forward in shock, but he scraped back his chair and stood. ‘It’s over, Bella. What more do you need to know?’

  ‘Between us, or between you and him?’ she asked, her lip trembling, and her arms still stretched out to him.

  For an unbearably long moment he stood perfectly still, his head slightly bowed and his eyes lowered to the stretch of oak between them. Bella strained towards him. Part of her wanted to crush him in a tight embrace and refuse to let go, another wanted to shake him, scratch him and damn him for his stubborn pride. The final part held her rigid in fearful anticipation.

  ‘There’s never been an us,’ he said, and the words raised welts across her soul far more vivid than any he could have striped her body with. He turned away.

  ‘No!’ she screamed after him. Her skirts snagged among the chair legs. ‘It wasn’t just about him. There was more than that.’ Her words petered out as he dissolved into the shadows. ‘I love you. Don’t walk away.’

  Hazy drizzle mingled with the mist in the castle courtyard. Bella ran into its cold, cushioned embrace. She would leave tomorrow morning, first thing, and go home to Yorkshire. There was no point in remaining, though she still believed her decision to stay the previous evening had been the right one. She wanted to be with Vaughan far more than she wanted Lucerne. ‘Damn it!’ She swiped remorselessly at the lavender bush growing by the base of the drawbridge, which revealed an arched pathway beneath it. She’d anticipated Vaughan’s rejection. His heart had only ever belonged to Lucerne, the locket was proof enough of that, but she’d hoped he at least felt some measure of affection for her. Not everything between them had been about competing for Lucerne, or even about sharing him. There’d been times – a wan smile teased her lips – some of the best times, when it had been purely about them, when she’d felt warmed by a fraction of the affection he felt for Lucerne.

  Vaughan’s love was fragile and intimidating, a place of burning heat and raw, crushing obsession, but it was also full of sweet promise. He’d lie cradling her, his embrace so tight she’d feel claustrophobic. It was always after he’d been particularly savage in their lovemaking, as if once let out, the beast of his emotions was hard to lock back in its cage.

  The concealed pathway led into a small quadrangle bordered by the south tower and the solar block, completely concealed from the rest of the courtyard. Bella sat on a weathered stone bench and let the rain glue her hair to her face. There was still this evening. He might change his mind. But the more she brooded, the more angry he made her feel. He’d pushed her away at a time when she needed comfort. Her best friend was dead, Lucerne was gone, and Vaughan was so wrapped up in himself he hadn’t even asked how she was.

  ‘Oh, Vaughan,’ she sighed, both angry and tearful. But she wouldn’t cry again. She’d shed tears enough already for them all.

  A window opened to her right, just shy of ground level.

  ‘Bella Rushdale, what the devil are you doing?’ Raffe stuck his head out of the narrow window. ‘It’s pouring down, woman. Get yourself inside.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m fine here.’

  ‘The hell you are. Wait there. I’ll fetch an umbrella.’

  ‘No, Raffe! Don’t come out,’ she yelled back at him, but he’d already closed the window. Surely he realised they’d quarrelled after Vaughan had dismissed him.

  Bella peered through the glass and found herself looking into the billiards room. She clenched her fist and hammered on the pane, but it was too late. Raffe was already gone. ‘Damnation!’ She didn’t want to explain anything to him, and nor did she want his well-meaning but insidious kindness.

  ‘There you are.’ Raffe appeared under the bridge without the promised umbrella.

  He was dressed all in cream calico, which the rain quickly turned transparent and plastered to his skin, so the dark hairs upon his chest and the even darker shadow around his loins showed through.

  ‘You should come in before you catch your death,’ he said.

  ‘You should mind your own business and go away.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’ He stepped forwards and took her arm.

  Bella smacked him hard across the cheek, sending sprays of glittering droplets flying in all directions, but he didn’t let go. He flicked the hair out of his eyes, and then forced her up against the castle wall. ‘I don’t know what happened last night, but I do know that he doesn’t appreciate you.’ Raffe’s hand closed over her breast, hot and possessive. His cock ground hard against her thigh. ‘Forget him. I can give you what you need without having to play games.’

  It’s not a game, she yelled silently. Oh, but it was a game, an inner voice replied, and a grand one at that. It had always been a game between them from the moment he’d warned her away from Lucerne. The constant challenge was what she thrived upon. What they both thrived upon. She didn’t want to stop playing the game.

  Besides, wasn’t Raffe playing a game with her too?

  ‘He doesn’t love you, Bella.’

  The rain ran into her eyes. It trickled over her lips and into the neckline of her dress. Her heart was racing. She shook her head, but Raffe pressed in closer still. Wet hard muscle thrust against her softness. ‘Don’t kiss me,’ she warned.

  ‘Or else what?’ His cock pressed against her eager and hard. Bella shivered. The rain was torrential now, so that the woollen dress hung from her all clammy and stiff. She snarled and watched his pupils dilate. Wild and furious, her lips plump and her eyes red with anger, she glared at him, her image alive in his pupils. Raffe forced his lips upon her.

  Bella fought against his grip, raking her nails into his shoulders, but it wasn’t until they bit into the nape of his neck that he released her. ‘Bella,’ he growled. His jaw remained determinedly set and his eyes burned with lust.

  ‘Get off me, Raffe.’

  ‘No.’ He forced his mouth down hard upon hers again, stealing her breath. ‘I’m going to fuck you, get right up deep inside you and give you the ride of your life, until you scream with the pleasure of it.’

  ‘I’ll scream now if you don’t let go.’

  ‘Yes, do, Bella. Make sure he hears you.’

  She glanced up the side of the tower, to where one of his windows overlooked the courtyard. ‘What have you against him?’

  ‘He has you, but he doesn’t see how precious you are. Isn’t that enough?’

  She slapped him hard. Raffe’s boots slid on the wet flagstones but he stayed upright. ‘Slap me again and I’ll redden your backside.’

  Loss and rejection welled up inside her. Raffe wasn’t Vaughan, but he was honest and direct and would give her what she craved.

  They stood at an impasse for several long heartbeats while their breaths clouded between them. Then they came together with a muffled snarl. Raffe’s hand covered her breast again. His tongue penetrated her mouth. Bella fought his grasp, even as she
rubbed her belly against his swollen loins and thrust her hands inside the back of his breeches. She was Vaughan’s nightingale, but this morning she would sing beneath his window like a lark. Tonight … tonight, she would hold her head high and tell him to rot inside his own personal hell for being so cruel.

  One hand touched her thigh. It slithered under the wet wool and bunched it between them. Raffe’s fingers probed her wetness, rubbed at her hard and needy clitoris. He was going to give her exactly what she needed. Precisely where Vaughan wouldn’t.

  She was slick with need. Raffe lifted her and pushed his cock deep.

  Not waves, but sharp tingling smacks of pleasure coursed through her body as the heat of him filled her core. He was the first man she’d had beside Vaughan and Lucerne since the time with Mark in the stables. It felt different. It felt strange. ‘Oh, God!’ But it also felt good. He was going to make her come and rapidly.

  ‘I’ve wanted you since the moment you arrived and I saw you bent over on those stairs with your arse on display. I’ve wanted your soft curves, wanted the bite of your lips. I’ve brought myself off imagining how it would feel to plunge myself into your slick wet heat. And it feels good, Bella. Ten thousand times better than I ever imagined.’ His lunges became sharper, harder, and he drove her hips downwards to meet his upwards thrusts. ‘Take me deep. Take all of me.’ His jerks became more rapid, then lapsed into irregularity. ‘Oh, hell! Marry me, Bella! Marry me?’

  He pulled out and shot his semen into the cold air. Scalding, it hit her thighs, only to be washed away by the rain. Raffe moved his hand up between her thighs, found her clitoris and rubbed and rubbed until she came, howling at the storm like a drunken banshee.

  ‘I was serious,’ he whispered into her mouth as she came down. He got down onto one knee, ruining his breeches on the sodden mossy flagstones.

  Bella shook her head. ‘It’s not real. You’d tire of me soon enough.’

  ‘I won’t. I want you again already. Give me moment and I’ll be hard enough to give it to you.’

  Shaking her head, Bella stepped around him, out of his reach.

  ‘I can give you what you want.’

  ‘You don’t know what I want.’

  ‘Don’t push me away. It’s what he’s doing to you.’

  Bella pressed past the lavender bush under the arch. ‘I’ll await your answer,’ she heard him call as she ran.

  ‘Damn him!’ stormed Bella, safe in her room with a blanket around her shoulders and a change of clothes laid out. Could he give her she wanted?

  No, never. But he could give her what she needed. He treated her like an equal. He had made no pretence with her. And he could save her reputation at a stroke, if she still cared about such things. If the dream of her life with Vaughan was lost for ever, then she could do far worse than Raffe Devonshire.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Vaughan stood beneath the arched entrance of the gatehouse as a fifth carriage rolled up the driveway. His guests had been arriving steadily since midday, all eager for the evening’s entertainment. The castle hadn’t welcomed so many visitors since his father’s day or, more accurately, his mother’s. The marchioness had so loved to be surrounded by people. He supposed she’d been at the back of his mind as he’d planned this diversion. She’d have loved the grotesque excitement of it, although outwardly she’d have disapproved of the subject. Vaughan shook aside the memories. He fully intended to scare the wits out of his guests and fill the emptiness in himself. If it had worked for his mother, maybe it would work for him too.

  ‘Come on,’ he muttered at the carriage as he stomped his feet against the cold. It was taking an interminably long time to get up the last few feet of driveway.

  ‘Foster,’ he bellowed. ‘ Get me a hot toddy, man. It’s bloody freezing out here.’ The tea he’d swallowed at breakfast seemed a distant memory. Spirits on an empty stomach was probably asking for trouble, but the thought of anything more substantial made his stomach churn.

  Henry Tristan appeared at his shoulder. ‘Connelly and Dovecote are settled, and Devonshire’s entertaining the rest. Who’s this coming?’ he asked.

  Vaughan raised his hand to his eyes, peering through the mist at the red and gold crest. ‘Darleston.’ He turned to Henry, to find him staring at his now bandaged hand.

  ‘Dare I ask what happened or shall I save my breath and just ask where Marlinscar is this morning?’

  ‘Halfway to goddamn Yorkshire, I imagine.’

  Henry twisted a knot into his spotted cravat. ‘Amicable, was it?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Henry. Unless you’ve a peculiar desire to wrestle with my pike.’

  Henry glanced warily at the murky waters of the moat. ‘I just like to have my facts straight before the rumours start. The bloods’ll notice he’s not here.’

  Vaughan stiffened. ‘Do you think I don’t realise that?’ he hissed. He pressed his knuckles to his lips, a surge of emotion stinging his eyes. It was far too soon to be entertaining guests, but far too late to cancel. In truth, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, not entertaining a crowd.

  Henry’s gaze remained focused on the rain-swollen waters, making the inner workings of his mind unfathomable. ‘What’s the official line?’ he asked.

  ‘Just tell them the bloody truth,’ Vaughan growled. ‘That he’s gone home to play nanny to Wakefield’s babe.’ What else did they need to know? What had occurred between him and Lucerne was private, none of anyone’s goddamned business. His absence didn’t have to result in endless speculation.

  He flinched as Henry curled a hand around his shoulder. ‘I know you don’t want to hear it,’ the other man said, ‘but they’re not entirely stupid. They might not dare admit it to your face, but most of them know how it’s been between you and Lucerne.’

  ‘Leave it, Henry.’ Vaughan pulled away from his grip and stepped out from under the shelter of the gatehouse into the rain.

  ‘You’ll have to make a concerted stand with Bella.’

  ‘I said, leave it.’ None of them had any real idea how it had been between him and Lucerne. Nobody did. As for Bella! He didn’t want to think of Bella. Facing her at breakfast had been difficult enough. She was too much a part of what he’d shared with Lucerne, just a vivid reminder of what he’d lost. If he could have transported her anywhere else at all, he would have, but until the party was over he intended to keep as much distance between them as he could.

  ‘How is she faring?’ asked Henry.

  ‘How the hell should I know?’ Vaughan snapped. He swung back round to glower at Henry. ‘If you’re so concerned, go and ask her yourself.’

  One snuff-stained finger tapped against Henry’s nose, once, twice, three times. For perhaps the first time ever in their acquaintance, he looked genuinely riled. Vaughan took a wary step backwards, his muscles tensed.

  ‘You’re a bloody fool, Pennerley.’ Henry’s whitened face glowed pink. ‘And I’ll risk your pike to say so. That woman is in love with you. She followed you into this godforsaken wilderness because she’ll do anything for you, and she wanted to mend things between you and Lucerne.’

  ‘It’s her fault it ended.’

  ‘No.’ The sound of Henry’s hand hitting the top of the wooden railing rang like a shot through the air. ‘It’s your fault, yours and Lucerne’s. And if you had any sense at all, you’d be apologising to her and doing your damnedest to ensure she stays in your bed.’ His eyes swam with unaccustomed rage. ‘But as usual, you’re too far up your own arse to see what you’re doing to her. You’re going to lose her, and you’ll regret it.’

  The carriage finally rumbled to a springy groaning halt. Vaughan held his palm up to Henry. ‘Stop. She was Lucerne’s. The world knows it.’

  Henry batted the hand aside with his cane. ‘She’s yours. Even Lucerne realised it. Isn’t that why he left? The rest of us knew it long ago. It’s clear enough just from the way she moves around you. Hell, I’ve seen the pair of you dance.’


  Whitened to his toes, Vaughan turned stiffly. He didn’t need to hear Henry’s opinions and he’d damn well stay wrapped up in his grief if he wanted.

  At the farther end of the bridge, a footman lowered the carriage step, which belched a lady and two gentleman from its dark interior.

  ‘Pennerley,’ said the foremost of the two flame-haired men, forcing Vaughan to draw back his anger and fix on a sociable mask.

  ‘Darleston,’ he acknowledged. Heart beating wildly, he briefly returned his attention to Henry. ‘If you really want to help, stop lecturing me and go find my damn fool sister. She’s supposed to be out here playing hostess, not wallowing in her room.’

  Niamh wasn’t in her room. She was sitting in the little blue rowing boat inside the boathouse. It was too misty to risk leaving the shore, but she needed space to think, and the castle felt crowded with all the toing and froing of guests. She wasn’t used to so many people and couldn’t fake a smile like Vaughan.

  She’d lain awake most of the night, churning things over and over, Vaughan and Lord Marlinscar, Bella, Alicia and Edward Holt. None of it made any sense. She’d always known Vaughan’s relationship with Bella and Lucerne was different, but she’d never tried to flesh out the details of it. She’d naively assumed the men shared Bella, but not at the same time, and not once had she envisaged them touching each other.

  Since they were children, Vaughan had never known when to stop. It wasn’t that he’d been spoiled. It was simply that he’d refused to accept any limits. Yet his fierce overprotectiveness had meant that limits were all she knew.

  He’d given his blessing to her regarding Edward, but sown such seeds of doubt.

  At some point soon she’d have to screw up the courage to ask Alicia about her relationship with Edward and find out if what Vaughan had said was true. But even if it wasn’t, Vaughan had made her question everything.

  Edward had made her smile. He’d filled the otherwise dreary days with joy. Their stolen kisses had added excitement, but she’d never considered it love. Affection, yes. Enough to believe he’d make her happy, yes. But actual physical love, the sort that she saw in Bella’s eyes when she looked at her brother? She shook her head. Of that, she wasn’t sure. Did it grow or spring out of nowhere? Was love what had made her brother so wild last night, or just the fact that he couldn’t have his own way?