A Whisper of Treason

by Connolly, Lynne

  Her mind had long ago stopped working. The wild speculation and concerns running through it earlier dissipated now, no longer useful. Because she knew what she wanted.

  He played, stroked, until her body loosened. From her tentative explorations before, she knew she was becoming wet, and now she understood her body was preparing for him. She’d always wondered before. When he slid a finger into her, very carefully, taking his time, she did her best to relax into it, to go with it. Because she trusted him, the process eased.

  He only pushed one finger a little way in, and rotated it. She felt every move, and her tightness. Recalling his member and its size, she had a few doubts, but reason returned. If the act wasn’t possible, or caused too much pain, people would not do it with such frequency. Men would not duel over what they euphemistically called a lady’s “hand”. And women would not gossip, or salaciously discuss what this or that man was like, how he performed between the sheets.

  Or over the dining table, in a chair or simply standing against a wall for that matter.

  When he came back up the bed to her, his cheekbones stood out, the flush of excitement beneath them making them even more clear-cut. Impatiently, he flicked his hair behind his shoulders, and kissed her again while he settled between her legs. “You know it will hurt the first time,” he murmured against her lips, his breath tickling her skin deliciously.

  “Yes.” She hadn’t but she imagined it would, since she’d never paid much attention to that part of her anatomy before. Untried, unused, something had to give way.

  He went up on his elbows, studying her as he took his erection in one hand and guided it where it needed to go.

  It slid past a part of her she hadn’t explored much before, the knot of flesh at the top of her cleft. A sharp thrill of sensation shot through her, and she shuddered.

  He smiled. “We’ll explore that another time. You are so responsive, my sweet.” He notched the plump head against her.

  Fear rippled through her. Despite her need for him, despite his kisses and caresses, the fear of the unknown reared up and took her. But only for a moment. She forced it down.

  He pushed, but although he did it gently, tension pulled at her. “Oh.”

  “Hold on to me. We’ll do this together.”

  She put her hands on his waist, the bones of his hips nudging her palms.

  “Or perhaps we should just forget it until another day.”

  Startled at his words, she opened her mouth to reply. She tightened her hold on his waist. “No…”

  She broke off as he thrust deeply inside her. A sharp pain took hold of her, shocking her into rigidity. She cried out, and felt the soft touch of his lips against her cheek. “Hush, love. There, it’s done. No more pain, I swear.”

  Delphi released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

  “You’re inside.”

  “So I am.” Leaning up again, he flicked his hair out of the way and met her gaze. “And it feels wonderful.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if she was different to the other women he had bedded, or if she felt the same. So inappropriate.

  As if she’d asked, he said, “You are very special, Delphi. I’ve never had a wife before, never committed myself to one woman for the rest of my life. I made a lot of promises today, and I meant every one.”

  She melted, sighing out her pleasure.

  “I love you.”

  His words sank deeply into her, settling into her soul. Everything became ludicrously simple.

  “I love you, too.”

  So easy. Their struggles to get here evaporated. They were here. That was all that mattered.

  He watched her as he moved, just a little bit, reminding her sharply of his presence and his size. She gave a little purr, and wiggled down. “I like that.”

  “Good. Just as well because I’m going to do it again.”

  And again, as it turned out, and again. Each movement a little stronger, a bit harder, penetrating her more deeply until she softened more, and opened her legs wider. When he moved again, she moved with him, letting instinct guide her.

  “You’re a natural at this,” he said. “No—no don’t close your eyes. I want to see your response, know it. Take it for my own.”

  The possession in his voice sent a bolt of shock through her, followed by pleasure. And more pleasure as he thrust harder, deeper, leaving warmth and a growing heat deep inside her.

  As he worked, as she worked with him, the sensation increased, flowed through her. She tipped her head back, digging deeply into the feather pillow with the back of her head, sucking air into her. The air flowed through her, cool and sweet, meeting the heat of his possession.

  “Delphi—” He broke off with a sigh, a gasp of pleasure, but he kept his attention on her. Placing his hands on either side of her head, he lifted up more, and drove into her, their rhythm instinctive.

  She felt him pulse deep inside her. One great throb, and then another. As if waiting for it, her body responded, rippled around him, and blossomed into a great flowering of sensation. It exploded in her head like a bud bursting open to reveal the flower growing inside.

  Delphi didn’t realize she had cried out until he kissed her and she felt the reverberations of her cry pass between them.

  And he had considered letting her go? If he’d known the bliss awaiting him, Adam would have taken her last year. The day they’d met. The day after they’d exchanged souls in Greenwich. He lay over her, carefully keeping his weight off her, while they both recovered enough to move.

  Lord, she was beautiful, lying there like that, her breasts heaving as she pulled air into her body. Her eyes held a dreamy look he’d only seen a few times before, and her lips were plump and reddened. And already, he wanted to do it again. But he could not. He couldn’t make love to her again tonight, not when she’d been a virgin when they’d started.

  He loved the way she’d cast off her misgivings, trusting him to lead her, or rather, show her the way.

  He thanked heaven that she had come just as he had, that somehow he’d coaxed an orgasm out of their first time together.

  Sexual intimacy was a marvel, always had been, but Adam wasn’t such a slave to it that he’d let it rule his life, as he’d seen it do in other men. His reputation as a roué was undeserved, but he had never bothered to correct it. But this—whether it was the primitive in him responding to her untutored, thoroughly marvelous response, or just that he had, at last, found his true mate, this was unlike anything else.

  He tried to rationalize. Of course every woman was different. But this kind of difference was something he could happily indulge in as long as he was alive to do it. Delphi fit him to perfection, and he prayed to God he fit her the same way. Physically and in every other way they were perfect for each other.

  When he could do so, he pulled away and rolled off her. He drew her with him so she had her head on his shoulder and her arm around his waist.

  “So,” he said. “Will I do?”

  A barely-there chuckle rewarded him. “I’ll have to put up with you, won’t I?”

  For that, he touched her chin, lifted it and kissed her. “Yes, I’m afraid you will.”

  Tentatively, she laid a leg over his, curled it at the knee and tucked it between his. He had his arm around her shoulder, holding her loosely to him. Her warmth fed his burgeoning desire, but he ignored it. Lassitude filled him luxuriously. If she’d not been a virgin, he’d have made slow, lazy love to her, showing her that passion did not have to be frantic and desperate. But she was, and he couldn’t.

  She spread her hand over his chest. “I hadn’t expected it to be so—so…”

  “Intimate,” he supplied for her. “For me, too.”

  “But you’ve been here before.”

  He continued his policy of telling her the absolute truth. “Not with you. Not like this.”

  Her snorted laugh told him what she thought of that.

  “I mean it.”


  How could he explain? He couldn’t. He would have to show her over the succeeding weeks, months and years. Words weren’t enough.

  But he could try. “You responded to me as if you were born to it. As if something in you knew exactly what to do. Miraculous, that’s what it was. Sweetheart, we’re going to have a fine time. A good marriage.”

  Her heavy breath puffed out against his chest, deep and regular. His bride was asleep. Adam wasted little time following her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Should we forget about the Beauchamp ball?” Adam asked, his hand lazily playing with Delphi’s nipple, driving her half-mad. “I had a half-formed plan to go there and let everyone know at once, allow them to spread the gossip as they would. But they’ll probably do that perfectly well without us.”

  “We should go,” she told him.

  “Hmm.” He rolled up, leaning on one elbow. “We should let them gossip in peace.” He gazed at her. “But perhaps…how do you feel?”

  A wave of confusion swept over her. “In what way?”

  “Here.” Blatantly, he touched the apex of her thighs, but he’d ensured her embarrassment had gone for good.

  They had not shifted from the bed in hours. However, he had steadfastly refused to make love to her fully, instead, teasing her playfully. He made her come in the most inventive ways, and showed her how to do the same for him. Adam had showed her how a couple could enjoy themselves without full penetration, because he told her she must have time to accustom herself to the new pastime.

  Astonished, but fully complaisant, Delphi was learning fast. And she’d learned that making love also included laughter.

  They’d finally rose for a midnight supper. An informal meal full of happiness, followed by a gentle but thorough loving. They hadn’t mentioned his brother or the Stuarts once. By tacit mutual consent, they left their troubles outside. Time enough to go back to reality tomorrow.

  Well, now it was tomorrow; nearly the afternoon. Although the curtains were closed, light filtered from a tiny crack between them.

  Delphi recalled with not a little embarrassment that after their supper, they’d returned to a bedroom cleared of their discarded clothing and with the bed freshly made. Nobody would say anything, but the servants knew. It had happened again after they’d risen for a late breakfast at noon. So vulgar, to care what the servants thought! Delphi could hear those words in the Duchess of Beauchamp’s voice. Not that the duchess would ever know.

  An aristocrat like her husband wouldn’t care that the household knew, but ignoring the simple fact didn’t come easily to Delphi. Yes, they’d be talking about the new Duchess of Kilsyth.

  “We should go to the ball.”

  He tucked his arm behind his head and sighed at the bed canopy. “Why?”

  “Let’s get it over with,” she suggested. “And answer any questions to their faces instead of knowing they are gossiping about us behind our backs.”

  After studying her face, he smiled and kissed her. He gave a short nod. “Probably for the best. If we stay here, we’ll make love again, and you’re not ready yet.” When she tried to protest, he kissed her into silence. “If we’re patient now, we can spend more time in bed later.” He dropped another kiss on her nose. “Don’t dress for dinner.”

  In this mood, he was utterly charming, and she loved it.

  So after their meal, they went to their rooms and dressed for the ball. Delphi, dizzy with wondering what a duchess wore to a ball, decided to go with her instincts. She rejected her maid’s choice of a dignified gown in moss green for something utterly frivolous. She went with her mood. So she appeared in the drawing room attired in white and gold, and her hair powdered white, as befitted someone attending a grand ball. The gown of white faille silk was embroidered with gold thread, in swirling vines and flowers. Brilliants were dotted here and there, making the gown and petticoat glint when it caught the light. She’d ordered it on a whim, and never dared wear it, because its extravagance and frivolity drew too much attention. Well, tonight she wanted the attention. People could look, and then she could get all the gossip and speculation over and done with. And she loved the gown.

  She had heeled shoes to match, and a gold lace fan. A simple string of pearls adorned her neck, but since they were her best, she would wear them with pride.

  Her husband was waiting for her. His crimson figured velvet coat oozed luxury, and the creamy, butter-colored waistcoat was a superb example of the art of the embroiderer.

  He smiled, and bowed over her hand, like a courtier greeting his queen. Except he kissed the back of her hand.

  Dipping into his capacious outside pocket, he brought out a velvet box. “I did not expect to marry in Rome, so I didn’t bring any of the family jewelry with me. I thought you could use these instead.”

  Lifting the lid, he showed her a dazzling collection of buttons. Gentlemen had their buttons moved from coat to coat, if they were precious. This was a complete set, buttons for the waistcoat, for the coat opening, cuffs and side pleats. So many. Like the ones on the salmon-colored coat, but these looked real, not chipped imitations.

  She lifted dazed eyes to him. “They’re diamonds?”

  “Of course,” he said loftily, making her laugh. With new eyes, she studied the ones on the coat he was currently wearing. Gold, embossed with his coat of arms. Not pinchbeck, but gold. He laughed. “No, I did not wear them when I wanted the king in exile to think I was poverty-stricken. But now that he knows, there is no point hiding them.” He went to the door and called for her maid.

  Rossi arrived promptly, and cooed over the buttons. Like most good lady’s maids, she carried needle and thread in her pocket. She got to work, attaching buttons to the turned-back robings of the gown, and then the sleeves, and the stomacher. She worked fast, but ensured the diamond buttons were attached firmly. Delphi stood obediently still, as her maid adorned her like the duchess she was.

  Now that she’d accustomed herself to the word “husband”, Delphi would have to do the same to the word “duchess”. Ridiculous, to consider herself as such. Their progress had been so rapid, she felt quite dizzy when she looked back to what she’d been so short a time ago.

  When Rossi had done, she carefully closed the case and promised to return the leftover buttons to Heath to be locked in the safe. Efficiently, she helped Delphi into her gloves and hat, and handed her a light lace shawl against, she said, the evening chill.

  At the door, she paused, narrowed her eyes and studied Delphi before giving a satisfied nod and leaving.

  “You are now dressed appropriately,” Adam said with amusement. “Although I prefer you in rather less clothing. But you do look fine. Even if the Roman citizens don’t recognize those buttons, the British contingent will. This is my claim on you which, I admit, is somewhat primitive, but I want no doubt remaining that you are under my protection now.”

  “Like a mistress?”

  He laughed. “Like a wife.”

  Adam arranged for the carriage to take them the short distance to the Beauchamp residence. The house they had hired was, naturally, one of the grandest available in Rome. Heaven forfend the new duchess should make do with one of the smaller houses.

  This one was close to the almost-finished Trevi fountain. A cluster of narrow streets all debouched at the fountain, making its appearance as dramatic as possible, but beyond lay a few larger houses on broader thoroughfares and piazzas.

  The Beauchamps had one of these grand, white-stuccoed palazzos, fronted by a columned entrance to shelter the residents from the glare of the sun. The Ionic columns could be original Roman ones. Many had been looted from the ruins to adorn the modern places. Delphi did not care to look, for the practice annoyed her beyond bearing. She didn’t want anything to mar her happiness tonight.

  Her stomach fluttered with nerves although she sucked in a deep breath and did her best to look like a duchess. Be worthy of the man by her side, not to let him down.

  Adam showed no sign of
noticing, but she knew he had from the way he pressed her hand before tucking it through her arm.

  They were not the only people entering the doors of this palazzo tonight. Several women, some she knew and some she did not, flicked considering looks at her, studying her appearance. People moved aside for Adam, as he deigned not to notice them.

  He could switch “the duke” off and on at will. Delphi watched and learned. She looked neither to the right nor to the left as they entered through the grand double doors of the entrance, and into the cool marble hall.

  Adam knew Delphi was nervous. Her hand trembled in his, but she showed none of this in her demeanor. He was proud of her, his heart swelling in his chest. Oh, yes, she would do very well in public life. Her white gown glittered with its new additions, drawing the eyes of everyone thronging this place. The cream of Roman society gathered here, for an invitation from a British duke was not to be ignored. The British visitors joined them, chattering loudly in English, some showing off their Italian. But he saw nobody he wanted to take her to until he spied Lady Billingham by the stairs.

  After pausing to hand their outerwear to a waiting liveried footman, Adam took her hand and led her to where her ladyship waited with her husband. They greeted one another fondly.

  “I was so glad to hear your good news!” the lady said. “My hearty congratulations to you both. The news tore through the city like wildfire. I presume even the pope knows of it.”

  Adam gave his superior smile. “I fail to understand why his holiness would be in the least interested.”

  “Oh, he will send his best wishes. He’s a good man, on the whole,” his lordship declared. “You should go to the Papal court and offer your respects.”

  “Maybe we will.”

  Signor Raffetti stood close by. “He would be delighted to give you his blessing,” he said. “Who would not, when you are so clearly so happy?”

  They would not, at least not until the danger for them ended. Adam had taken care not to show Delphi how jittery this ball made him. With all these people, some of whom he did not know in the least, how many would-be assassins lurked within?