by Mia Marlowe
“You really aren’t listening to my thoughts, are you?” she finally said.
He shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t. How can you tell?”
“Because if you were, you’d know I’m dying for you to kiss me.”
The advantage to being thought mad is that nothing one does ever really surprises others. Whether I behave outrageously or do an imitation of a rock, my supposed condition explains all.
The truth is, when confronted with a beautiful woman, I am neither more nor less bewildered about what to do than any other man. Which is to say, rather more than a little mad.
~from the secret journal of Pierce Langdon, Viscount Westfall
Chapter Fourteen
If Nora had issued such a blatant invitation to kiss her to any other fellow, he wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. Most men would have swept her into a hurried embrace. But Pierce Langdon was not most men.
“Why are you dying for me to kiss you?” he asked.
She cocked her head at him in surprise. “Because…because for a man who claims to have had little sensual experience, you kiss rather well.”
That wasn’t strictly true. Pierce wasn’t a technically adept kisser. He’d even missed her mouth on one occasion, but since Lewis’s death, no other man’s lips on hers had made her feel so tinglingly alive. Nora had no idea why, but she was sure she could figure it out if he kissed her again.
“So you like the way I kiss,” he said, as if confused by the idea instead of flattered. “Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“No.” His gray-eyed gaze seemed to reach into her soul. “I believe I love you, Honora. Don’t you feel anything about me?”
So he believed he loved her now. That was more positive than merely thinking it, but she still couldn’t reciprocate. She didn’t dare. If there was one constant in the universe, it was that men were inconstant. Love was a risky business. It was hurt. It was loss. And even if a lover was the exception that proved the rule and was faithful all his days, like her Lewis had been, love still ended in the ultimate betrayal—the abandonment of death.
“I scarcely know you,” she admitted. “How can you expect me to have feelings for you?”
“You know me better than most. After all, I confided my deepest secret to you.” A corner of his mouth twitched up. “I’d say you know enough to know whether you care for me a bit.”
He had entrusted her with his claim that he could hear the thoughts of others. A secret equaled power. Benedick had taught her that. If she repeated Pierce’s assertion in the right person’s ear, she could have him sent back to Bedlam in short order. Not that she’d do that to a dog, much less to Pierce. But he had no right to demand that she care about him.
“I don’t see how my feelings for you one way or another have any bearing on whether or not I allow you to kiss me.”
“Ask me to kiss you, you mean.”
Indignation rose in her. She’d never had to beg for a man’s attention before. “Forget I mentioned it.”
This time both sides of his mouth turned up. “I can’t. You want me to kiss you. That makes me happier than a madman has any right to be.”
“And I would have thought being mad was a perpetual giggling feast,” she said with a laugh.
His smile faded. “You’d be wrong. Not being able to trust one’s own mind is…well, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even my uncle.”
The man who’d sent him to Bedlam in the first place. Pierce Langdon was either a saint or he truly was mad not to wish a bit of retribution on his relative for that act of treachery.
Something tightened in her chest. And glowed a bit. She didn’t want it to. Feelings were always messy. A courtesan had no business allowing them.
But she had no way of controlling this feeling. Even as she tried to tamp that strange warmth down, it spread through her. Nora reached over and rested her hand on his forearm.
“My heart is not a whole one, Pierce. Bits of it are missing, probably some rather important bits, and what’s left is bruised and battered.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, missing the mark and catching the corner of his mouth, much as he’d done to her in the ladies’ retiring room at the opera. “But as much as I’m able, it seems my poor heart does care for you. More than a bit, for what it’s worth.”
“It’s worth everything.” He cupped her cheeks and his mouth was suddenly hot on hers.
His kiss is a whole world.
Her body thrummed to life. But even in this idyllic bower, overhung with green and lulled by the voice of the stream, Nora wasn’t about to let matters progress further than a kiss. Surely not. She wasn’t some milkmaid to settle for a tumble in a haystack, but Pierce’s kiss tempted her to it.
Just a kiss, she chanted to herself.
Everything spiraled down to his mouth, his tongue, the way he suckled her bottom lip for a moment. He pressed a string of baby kisses along her jaw, up to her temple, and then on each of her closed eyes.
The nattering gossips would never believe it. The tabloids would call her a liar.
Pierce Langdon’s kisses were more stirring than a whole night with any of her previous lovers.
It wasn’t that he was smooth about it. He wasn’t. But the fervor with which Pierce kissed her stole her breath away. And when his kisses turned tender and his big hands caressed her breasts through her riding habit, her chest constricted so, she feared her heart might stop beating altogether.
Then he pulled her feet out of the stream, laid her back, and settled between her spread-eagle legs. He moved down her body and hitched up her riding habit to expose the open crotch of her pantalets.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“Kissing you. All over,” he said with a wicked grin. “You rendered me a similar lover’s service. Would you deny me the opportunity to return that pleasure?”
Words failed her. She settled down onto Pierce’s jacket spread beneath her, lifted her arms above her head in surrender, and bent her knees over his massive shoulders to give him better access.
His mouth was heaven. His tongue, oh mercy, his tongue. What with the warmth of the rock beneath her, the heat of the man over her, and the fire he kindled inside her, she was burning up.
Helpless noises of need escaped from her throat as Pierce redoubled his efforts. His big hands cradled her bum, lifting her to meet his mouth. She fisted the cloth of his jacket, every muscle contracting. It wasn’t that he tongued her with the sure knowledge of how to play a woman’s body. He often slipped away from that all-important spot of ultra-sensitivity or changed rhythm just as she was building toward release. She ought to feel frustrated.
Instead she’d never been wound so tight. Or enjoyed the journey more.
The fact that he believed he loved her made all the difference.
Then, with little warning, she peaked and unraveled under him in a frenzy of bucking limbs and heaving gasps. There was nothing the least refined in her release. Every bit of her was flooded with bone-jarring joy.
I love you, Honora.
That was no memory. There was no qualifier, no “I think” or “I believe.” But somehow, she did seem to hear his voice in her head, repeating the phrase. It echoed in the ripples of the stream. It breathed out in the fresh green exhalation of the birches. Even the bees seemed to be humming it.
“I do, you know,” Pierce said as he came up for air.
“Do what?”
“Love you.” He moved up her body, holding his weight on his elbows while his hips settled between hers. He was still fully dressed, but she could feel the hard bulge of him pressed against her entrance. “I know you’re thinking about it, trying to decide if I mean it. I do, with all that’s in me.”
Joy burst inside her, flooding her entire being. But she wasn’t quite ready to trust it. Joy was such a dangerous thing. So fleeting. So fragile. And in her case, so undeserved.
“I know I promised to keep my mental shield up, but it’s
hard to concentrate with so many things going on at once,” he said.
“I forgive you.” Nora wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down for another kiss. She tasted a bit of herself, all musk and salt, on his lips. “Just don’t let it become a habit.”
It was all right for him to listen in on her thoughts now. They were all about him.
She was so lost in the man that she didn’t hear the approaching hoof beats on the road until the rider stopped and shouted to them from the small bridge.
“Halloo!” The voice belonged to Albemarle. “Is anyone there? Your horses and gig are about to make a break for it.”
“Botheration!” Fortunately, the gorse bush effectively blocked them from his view. Nora scrambled out from under Pierce and yanked down her hem to cover her legs. She jammed her discarded bonnet back on her head. Then she leaped to her feet and peered at her patron over the bush. Benedick had left the bridge and neck-reined his buckskin gelding down the road, stopping near the Duke of Camden’s gig. He raised himself in the stirrups when he caught sight of her.
He waved his hat and grinned.
Then Pierce stood as well, and Albemarle’s grin faded a bit. It was one thing for Benedick to give her permission to pursue a liaison with Lord Westfall. It was quite another for him to catch her at it.
“Albemarle, how very fortuitous. We were just on our way to Albion Abbey.” She hurried across the grass to the gig to retrieve her boots and stockings. The equipage did seem to be inching ever closer to the road as the matched pair of horses continued to munch the sweet long grass. Pierce must have been in a hurry when he tied up the beasts because the tether had come undone.
As had she.
“I had a spot of trouble while I was riding and Lord Westfall has been so very helpful,” she explained.
“So I see,” Albemarle said dryly.
“My poor horse went lame and—”
“And Lady Nora nearly went lame as well, so she was soaking her feet,” Pierce filled in. Nora shot him a sharp look. His tone was even. He wasn’t breathing irregularly. Nothing betrayed the fact that his face had recently been buried between her thighs. “Her boots are charming, but not conducive to long walks.”
“We shall have to rectify that, my dear,” Albemarle said. “You shall ride pillion with me, and I’ll see that your lovely feet are tended posthaste.”
Benedick leaned down to offer her a hand up with a stern expression that brooked no refusal. She stepped on his stirrup and mounted behind his saddle, tugging her billowy riding skirt around her to cover her exposed ankles.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Lord Westfall, isn’t it?” Albemarle said.
Pierce gave him a curt bow from the neck. His eyes narrowed. He obviously didn’t like Benedick much and wasn’t trying to disguise it. She’d have to speak to him sternly about keeping up appearances if they were going to make this liaison work.
“It seems I am in your debt, but perhaps you might indulge me further by doing me another favor,” Benedick said, ignoring Pierce’s scowl. “I was on my way to Camden End to invite His Grace to dine this evening. I wonder if you would relay that invitation so I can take Lady Nora home as quickly as possible.”
“Certainly,” Pierce said, “though I do not know if His Grace will be able to break free. He is hosting a large party of guests at the moment.”
“Then by all means, he should bring them along. How many shall I tell my chef to expect?”
Pierce ticked off the members of the duke’s party on his fingers. “There’s Lady Easton, Miss Anthony, Miss LaMotte—”
“Ah! Vesta. What an enchanting woman. I remember the time when she—”
“And myself, of course,” Pierce interrupted.
“And yourself, of course,” Benedick said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I’m depending upon you, Westfall. I shan’t take no for an answer. Shall we say eight o’clock? Tell His Grace my chef does miracles with squab. And please invite the duke and his guests to plan on spending the night at the Abbey as well. There’s a fair in Patterlane Green on the morrow that I believe His Grace will enjoy. The village is much closer to the Abbey than Camden End, so an overnight stay will be easier all around. Until this evening…”
Benedick dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, and the gelding leaped into a gallop down the road in the direction of Albion Abbey. Nora was forced to link her hands around Benedick’s waist and hang on tight lest she fly off and land on her bum. Once they were out of Pierce’s earshot, he slowed his mount to a walk.
“When I gave you leave to seek out Westfall, I didn’t think you’d turn into such a randy little tart about it,” he said, his tone surly.
“My horse went lame. Lord Westfall was being helpful. I have no idea what you mean.”
“Don’t you? You fairly reek of the man.”
Benedick couldn’t possibly be jealous. “You’re being ridiculous. I don’t chide you about the time you spend with Rivers.”
“Of course, you don’t,” he said snippily. “The man is my valet.”
“And your lover.”
“And you’re my mistress. At least as far as the world knows, you are mine, and I intend that you should keep it that way.” He covered her clasped hands at his waist possessively. “Now that I’ve met him, I don’t like the look of that Lord Westfall, not by half.”
What he meant was he didn’t like Lord Westfall shagging his mistress. And she had to admit that Pierce had not presented a deferential face to Benedick.
“You needn’t worry,” she told him. “We can trust Westfall to be discreet. He won’t breathe a word about our assignations to anyone. He’s convinced himself that he loves me.”
“Love, bah! Never was there a more mercurial emotion. A lover may promise the moon and the stars in the first flush of lust but, as the heavens change with the seasons, such promises are later forgotten entirely.”
She felt certain there was more to Benedick’s surliness than simply catching her with Westfall. “What’s wrong? Is Rivers giving you trouble?”
“Heavens, no.” He sighed. “He’s biddable as a hound. If you must know, it’s that ghost from my past. My Italian. I had another letter from my tormentors this morning and it seems he’s in league with them.”
If his blackmailers knew to send the letter to the country that meant Benedick’s movements were being carefully watched. “What are they threatening now?”
“It’s more than just revealing the things I wrote to Falco all those years ago. He’s here himself. In England. And, wittingly or not, he has aligned himself with my enemies.”
Nora laid her head between Benedick’s shoulder blades and tightened her grip around his slender waist. She felt the sense of betrayal emanating from his body in scalding waves. “I’m so sorry.”
“So am I. He was such a lovely young man. Peasant stock, you understand, but he had a quick mind. We parted badly. I wanted more than he could give at the time, but when I left him behind in Genoa, I also left sufficient funds for him to secure a trade for himself.”
It was like Benedick to provide liberally for his past lovers. He’d do the same for Nora once their supposed association ended. It was part of the gentlemanliness for which he was known.
“What trade did he pursue?”
“Falco became a doctor. He spends a good deal of time in his letter emphasizing that I will not be endangering the Prince Regent’s bodily health by using the Fides Pulvis to influence him.”
“You’ll only endanger his mind.”
“Exactly. Who knows how long the powder works? A malleable prince is a tempting thought. Think what I could accomplish with Prinny in my pocket. But what if this substance reduces him to imbecility? It’s bad enough to have a mad king.”
“And the prince’s brothers are no prizes, either,” Nora said, parroting back something Benedick had said once about the gaggle of royal dukes. Then she served up her own thoughts about the monarchy. “With a r
uling family like the Hanoverians, perhaps we should consider following the Americans’ example and try democracy.”
“Careful, my dear,” Benedick chided. “That’s treason.”
“So is using the Fides Pulvis on your future king.”
Benedick’s usually ramrod-straight posture slumped. “But I may not have a choice.”
“So your letters to Falco are still being used against you. I must say, it is bad form of him to repay your generosity like this.”
“He does promise to give my letters back after the Prince Regent changes his mind on the subject of the withdrawal of our troops from France.” Benedick shrugged. “Not only will he return the letters. He’s offered to come back to me as well.”
“I’ll bet Rivers loved that.”
“He doesn’t know and, please God, he never will. Dear Rivers is jealous enough of you, and he knows nothing ever passes between us but friendship. Heaven help me if he ever caught wind that there was a possibility that Falco might return to my life.” He sighed wistfully. “That lovely Italian was the only man I’ve been with who was my intellectual equal. Rivers is a pretty valet, but he’ll never be anything more.”
Nora straightened her spine. She was grateful to Benedick for the way he provided for her and Emilia, but she, too, would never be anything to him but a pretty ornament to his arm. Was this all life held before her? To be a useful tool to her patron for a limited time and after that, to be set aside like a dull letter opener?
“So will you take Falco back?”
Benedick shook his head. “He’s no longer the young man I left in Genoa, and I’m not the same, either. Too much time has passed and time wounds all heels, you know. It would be the height of hubris to think we might have a second chance.”
Life didn’t generally give second chances to women like her, either. But Nora couldn’t help but feel there was a spark of hope in Pierce’s declaration of love.
This night, the Duke of Camden’s party descended upon Albion Abbey, and Benedick has prevailed upon His Grace to spend several days with us. He can be so very charming when he wants something and he definitely wants something from His Grace.
