Lady Elinor's Wicked Adventures

by Lillian Marek

  He went quickly and quietly up the stairs to the terrace. Clouds dimmed the moonlight, but he had no difficulty finding Norrie’s room. The curtains were not quite closed, and he could see that a light still burned so he rapped softly on the glass.

  Almost immediately the curtain was pulled aside and the French doors were flung open. Norrie pulled him in and threw herself against him. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her head. The sweet soapy scent of her hair cleaned the stink of dust and horses from his nostrils and the tension began to ease.

  “We didn’t catch him. I’m sorry.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Her voice was muffled by his coat. “As long as you aren’t hurt. I was so worried.”

  “Ah, there was no need for you to worry.” She felt so good in his arms, so soft, so perfect. He rubbed his cheek back and forth against her clean, silky hair. “At least a dozen of us were hunting him. How much safer could I be?”

  “Of course I worried.” She twisted her hands in his jacket and tried to shake him. “Who knows what might happen? Armando is a rat, and a cornered rat is dangerous. You are not to go putting yourself in danger. I forbid it. Now that you finally got around to declaring yourself, I don’t intend to lose you.”

  He smiled and dropped a gentle kiss on her hair. “You won’t ever lose me. I’m here to stay, and I promise to do a much better job of protecting you in the future. I don’t intend to lose you, either.”

  For long minutes they stood there in silence, just holding each other. Then Norrie said, “Adventures aren’t quite the way I imagined they would be. I thought I wanted to have adventures the way you did—I was quite envious of you. But I wouldn’t really like too many more like that one.”

  “No more would I. Ah, Norrie, every time I think about what could have happened…”

  “I was afraid, you know. Terrified, even.”

  “Of course you were. So was I.”

  “You were?”

  “Can you doubt it? Only a fool isn’t afraid when a lunatic is waving a gun at him.”

  She buried her face in his shirt again. “It wasn’t just that I was afraid. I didn’t like that. But I hated those men. I really hated them. I never felt that way before. It bothered me.”

  He pulled her tighter to him. “And I pray you will never need to feel that way again. I promise you, Norrie, I will do my best to make sure you never need to feel that way again.”

  She let him hold her until finally she pulled back her head and looked up at him. A smile was beginning to tug at her mouth. “But after all, what did happen was that we won. We make a good team, don’t we?”

  He had to return her smile. She was back to being fierce. “Yes, we do.”

  “And you won’t mind if in the future our adventures are not quite so adventurous?”

  “I have very different adventures in mind for us.” His hand was making circles on her back, and he suddenly realized that she was wearing nothing but a nightdress and wrapper—no corset, no petticoats, almost nothing at all. His body had realized this well before his mind had noticed, and if she hadn’t noticed already, she soon would realize what it was that was pressing against her.

  He ought to leave. He really ought to leave. He shouldn’t be here in the first place. He knew that, but instead of letting her go, his arms were tightening and pulling her closer. Her head tilted so that her lips were just waiting for him, parted in invitation. He couldn’t refuse.

  He explored her mouth slowly, tangling his tongue with hers, reaching deep into the soft cavern. Slowly, then not so slowly as desire overcame him. Yes, this was what he wanted, and her arms tightened, pulling him closer. This was what she wanted too. His hands cupped her buttocks—somehow her nightdress had been pulled up—and pulled her hard against him. He heard a groan of longing and realized that it came from him.

  He shouldn’t—they shouldn’t. He lifted his head and tried to think. “Norrie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” He could barely get the words out.

  She pulled his head back down. “Don’t you dare leave. Don’t you dare.”

  He couldn’t quite believe it. Could she really have said that? Was she inviting him to her bed? Did she even understand what she had said? But she was pulling him back, pulling him toward her bed, pulling him toward everything he wanted. Oh, God! She was!

  He had to ask. “You’re sure, Norrie? You’re sure?”

  She was pushing his coat off his shoulders and pulling out his shirt. “Of course I’m sure.”

  He had to let go of her to get his arms out of the tangle of cloth, but his mouth followed her, nibbling her jaw, dropping kisses along her brow. His arms finally fought free of his clothes, and he caught her up again as they stumbled onto the bed. She was laughing, joyous laughter.

  His heel snagged on the coverlet. “Just a minute.” His voice was hoarse as he lifted himself up and sat to tug off his boots. Had it ever taken him this long to get his boots off? He stood up to undo his trousers and realized that Norrie had stood too. She had discarded her wrapper, and as he watched, she lifted her nightdress and pulled it over her head.

  And then she was naked.

  All he could do was stare in awe. Not even in his dreams… “Norrie,” he whispered, “Norrie, you’re so, so perfect.”

  She lifted a hand, ever so slowly, and reached toward him. Her fingers touched his bare chest, ever so lightly, and trailed over his skin. “You’re beautiful. You really are Hercules,” she whispered.

  He couldn’t move. Her touch had him frozen. The moment stretched on and on. Then she raised her eyes to meet his and caught her lower lip in her teeth. Her sudden uncertainty was all he needed. “Not a demigod,” he said thickly. “Only a man.”

  In an instant his remaining clothes had fallen to the floor and they were on the bed, skin to skin.

  His hands skimmed over her, touching everywhere, deciding where to settle first. Every place he touched brought a response from her—a little noise, a movement. He wanted to go slowly, he needed to go slowly for her. His hands trembled with the effort to hold back.

  His touch seemed to burn. Her whole body seemed to be on fire. Suddenly every bit of her was so sensitive. She hadn’t known she could feel so much. And then his hand was between her legs and touching her there. She gasped, and then there was more and more and more—and she was flying, exploding.

  When she opened her eyes, he was above her, smiling. He kissed her and she could feel him down there, not his hand but him, pressing into her, slowly filling her. Yes, this was what she wanted, yes. He was moving inside her, faster now, faster, and she was flying again.

  With a strangled cry he shuddered and collapsed on her. The weight of him should have felt heavy, but it didn’t. It just felt right. She lifted her arms to hold him there and gently rubbed little circles on his back while his breathing gradually slowed to normal.

  He rolled over eventually and pulled her with him, held against his side. He was smiling, but he looked half stunned. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “All right?” He gave a choked little laugh. “God, Norrie, that was incredible. And I’m supposed to be asking you. Did I hurt you?”

  “Goodness, no. Is it supposed to hurt? I thought it was wonderful.”

  He cradled her cheek in his hand and gently caressed her. “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

  Nineteen

  The trip back to Rome had been quiet. Lady Elinor and Lord Tunbury were too busy gazing at each other to pay much attention to the others, and Lord and Lady Penworth spent much of the time dozing, except when Lord Rycote’s fidgeting prompted exasperated mutterings from them. The moment the coach pulled into the courtyard of

  the palazzo, Rycote leaped out and vanished through the door leading to the Crescenzis’ chambers.

  The elderly retainer—Rycote had never figured out just what his title was—backed out of the way, and Donna Lissandra erupted from the sitting room. She ha
lted abruptly when she saw Rycote. Her fierce expression dissolved and she ran to him, stopping just short of throwing herself into his arms.

  “It is you,” she said. “Ah, thank heaven it is you.”

  More than a little gratified by this reception, Rycote put an arm around her shoulders. “Yes, I am here. Now tell me what is wrong. Has that swine Girard been bothering you?”

  “It is not just Girard, swine that he is. Maria is the one who made the trouble. And such trouble! She told him that Pietro was hiding in Rome. My father was furious with her and sent her off to the country, but Girard has been haunting us. Every time my mother and I step outside the house, even to go to church, he is there, following.”

  She started to lean against him, gratifying him still further, but then leaped back. “Madonna! Your whole family has returned, no?” At his nod, she turned and ran for the stairs to the piano nobile.

  Confused, he followed. “Lissandra, wait. Tell me what is wrong.”

  She flew up the stairs, ignoring him completely, and burst into the hall, where the English party was standing in some confusion. With her hands at her breast she began, “My lady, my lord, please, I…” Her voice faded away, and she descended into a faint, slowly enough to enable Rycote to catch her.

  He lifted her up and looked around wildly.

  Lady Penworth looked amused. “Just put her here on the sofa, dear,” she said.

  He did so, but promptly knelt beside her, chafing her hands. His mother clasped his shoulder to pull him away.

  “Calm yourself, Pip. Now go and find a glass and some brandy.” When he got up to obey, she waved the others back as well. “Let us give the poor girl room to breathe.” Lady Penworth then knelt beside Lissandra herself, taking her hand and speaking softly enough so the others could not hear. “It’s all right, my dear. That was a beautiful faint. Just lie there and give my hand a squeeze when you have decided what to say.”

  Lissandra’s eyes flew open and she gasped.

  Lady Penworth shook her head and smiled. “I’m only trying to help.”

  The girl burst into tears. “I am so sorry. I had no intention of making trouble for Lord Rycote. Or for any of you. I just did not know what to do.”

  Pip hurried in from the library, carrying the brandy decanter and a glass. At the same time, the door on the opposite side of the hall flew open and Pietro Crescenzi entered with a dramatic gesture. Pip frowned at him. “What are you doing here, Pietro?”

  “My sister is innocent, and my parents know nothing of this,” he declared.

  “That is no doubt perfectly true,” said Lord Penworth with a wry smile. “I am coming to learn that parents frequently know nothing of what their children are doing.”

  “I think, dear, that this must be Lissandra’s brother. The revolutionary one.” Lady Penworth came to stand beside her husband and tilted her head to look at the newcomer. “There does seem to be a resemblance.”

  “Hmm? Yes, I suppose so.” Penworth frowned at the young man. “But aren’t you supposed to wear a red shirt or some such?”

  “He’s been in Rome in hiding, Father.” Pip glowered at Pietro. “But I thought he had promised to behave like a gentleman and not involve his sister in his activities.”

  “Ah, no, it is not his doing.” Lissandra appeared to have quite recovered, and clasped Lady Penworth’s hand between hers. “It is I who insisted that he hide here. My father would be distraught if he knew. Please do not tell my parents. I will find another place for him immediately.”

  Penworth was still frowning at Pietro, who was swaying slightly. “I do not wish to be rude, young man, but is that blood on your shirt? And if so, is it yours?”

  “It almost certainly is, I think, judging from his pallor,” said Lady Penworth. “Perhaps we should all sit down, and somewhere less open. Lissandra, help your brother into the library.”

  They went in procession, Lord and Lady Penworth leading the way, Lissandra helping her brother, and Pip helping her. Harry and Elinor, who had been paying virtually no attention to the drama being enacted, trailed behind, walking just close enough for their arms to brush.

  “Is there something between your brother and the Crescenzis’ daughter?” Harry asked softly.

  “Oh yes, hadn’t you realized?”

  He smiled. “All my attention has been on you. I have very little left for him.”

  Elinor grinned. “I think she’s good for him. He was getting much too stuffy.”

  “However he managed that in your family, I can’t imagine.” Harry grinned back, so Elinor jabbed an elbow into him.

  Once everyone was settled in the library, where the dark paneling had a soothing effect, Lissandra attempted to fuss over her brother. He, however, was determined to speak.

  “My lord, my lady, I beg your forgiveness. It was an emergency.” He shook off his sister. “I should never have imposed upon you this way.”

  “It was that spiteful old witch Maria,” burst out Lissandra. She turned to Pip, who took her hand. “After you were so good as to warn me, I was very careful. Never once did I allow Girard to follow me. But I never thought to watch for Maria. I knew she was angry, but it was inconceivable to me to think she would ever betray our family.”

  “What did she do?” Elinor asked, fascinated.

  “Followed Lissandra and then led the French to the house where I was staying,” said Pietro bitterly. “My comrades and I fought them off, but Giovanni was killed. It was his house, and I do not know what will become of his family.”

  “Pity you didn’t think about that earlier,” Pip snapped. “It’s all very well and good to go about risking your own life if that’s what you choose to do, but you should not endanger innocents like his family and your own.”

  Lissandra frowned at him and tried to pull her hand loose. He wouldn’t let go, so she left it while she turned to the others. “Our father was very angry. He dismissed Maria from his service and sent her back to the village she came from—ah, you should have heard him. ‘Viper’ was the kindest term he used. But he was even more angry with Pietro. He said he was a disgrace to the family and he disowned him.” Tears of pity filled her eyes as she looked at her brother.

  Pietro looked tragic himself. “Why can he not see that this is the future? Only once Italy is free and united will she be strong. Can he not see that the real disgrace is allowing France and Austria to tyrannize us? Too long have we been denied our liberty.”

  While he continued for some time in this vein, Lady Penworth whispered to her husband, “I believe they must have learned their English by reading Byron.”

  He smiled in agreement. “That fellow has a lot to answer for.”

  Finally, a cough from Lord Penworth drew the young people’s attention. “Yes, well, I think we had best leave the politics for a different time. I was hoping, Miss Crescenzi, that you might explain what your brother is doing here in our apartments.”

  “And, while you are at it, explain what has happened to the servants,” added Lady Penworth. “I must confess that I had been looking forward to a cup of tea and a hot bath when we arrived.” Her arched brows indicated less than total sympathy with the Crescenzi children.

  Completely ignoring his earlier criticism of Pietro, Pip leaped to Lissandra’s defense, putting himself between her and his parents while still holding her hand. “I am certain Donna Lissandra would not have imposed on our hospitality except in the direst of circumstances.”

  “No doubt. However, since you have not been here and she has, I suspect she can provide an explanation more easily than you can.” Lady Penworth was having difficulty suppressing a smile at her son’s unusually dramatic behavior.

  “A hundred thousand apologies, most gracious lady.” Lissandra clasped her free hand to her breast. “But my brother was wounded and could not travel. I could not think of any other place where Girard would not search for him. But here, in the chambers of a noble English family—Girard would not dare force an entrance.”

>   “Not bad thinking,” Harry said with a judicious nod.

  “I will remove him at once,” she said. “We can surely find another place.”

  “Nonsense, Donna Lissandra,” said Pip. “Our family will be glad to shelter him until his safe escape can be arranged.”

  Lady Penworth raised her brows and was about to speak, but her husband put a hand on her arm and she contented herself with a second inquiry as to the whereabouts of the servants. It appeared that they had all been given leave to visit their families for a few days, lest news of Pietro’s presence leak out.

  “Pity,” said Lady Penworth. “Because I really would like a hot bath.”

  At that, Lissandra burst into tears.

  Pip pulled her into his arms and glared at his mother, who simply raised her brows again.

  Lord Penworth muttered, “Stop teasing them,” to his wife.

  Pietro leaped to his feet and declaimed his intention to depart that instant, Lissandra wailed, and Pip assured her that everything would be taken care of, all at increasing volume.

  “It’s as good as a play,” said Elinor to Harry.

  “Yes,” he agreed, “but I think we’d better take a hand and straighten things out before your mother enjoys this too much.” He stepped into the middle of the chaos, grabbed Pietro by the shoulder to swing him around, and clapped his hands loudly an inch from Pietro’s nose. That halted Pietro in mid-oration.

  Elinor, meanwhile, picked up a vase of somewhat wilted flowers, pushed it under Lissandra’s nose, and then raised it as if to dump it on her head. Lissandra’s wailing ended on a gasp.

  Elinor and Harry exchanged congratulatory smiles.

  “Oh, well done, children. I am pleased to see you working so well together.” Lady Penworth beamed at them.

  Lord Penworth gave a harrumph worthy of a much older man. “Suppose you tell us just precisely what is going on here. Signor Crescenzi, I gather you are persona non grata in Rome. Might I ask precisely who is objecting to your presence?”