Alaric smiled at her. "Do you think me a Bluebeard, sweetheart? Rest easy, there is nothing in here that can harm you."
Rowena gave him a speaking glance. He had guessed exactly her nervous mood, but his putting her thoughts into words made them seem ridiculous. She was not afraid of anything, she reminded herself. She set her shoulders in a firm line and swept through the open door.
She cast one look about the room and gave a startled gasp, her hand falling nervelessly away from Alaric’s arms. She turned to him, amazement on her face.
"It’s marvelous, Alaric," she said, her voice full of wonder. "How lovely."
Alaric smiled at her enthusiasm. He had been almost certain that she would enjoy his collection as much as he did, but some part of him had been afraid that she might be bored, or see it only as a group of priceless objects, admirable for their value and little else. But he could see from the glow on her face that she had the appreciation of a true connoisseur.
Rowena turned back to the room. Alaric had put a great deal of thought into its creation. The walls between several smaller rooms had been knocked out to create the closest thing to a gallery that could be had in a London mansion. It marched the length of the house, with tall graceful windows covered in blue velvet curtains looking out over the back garden. The room itself was simple, with its walls and soaring ceiling painted white, the trim of simple dark wood. It was merely a background for the treasures with which Alaric had filled it.
Rowena’s mouth formed a tiny "O" of surprise as she walked further into the room. Everywhere her eye fell she saw a masterpiece, something unique and precious. She had naturally heard much of Alaric’s collection, but she had never before realized how truly amazing it was.
She paused to look at a book that stood open on a pedestal. The ancient handwriting was spidery and unfamiliar, the pictures in the margins glowed like jewels in shades of red, blue and gold. She touched it with a reverent finger.
"This is very old," she murmured. "I can imagine the monk laboring over this by candlelight on a cold winter night."
"It was made at Lindisfarne in the 9th century," said Alaric, touched and pleased that Rowena had commented on the manuscript. "As much as I admire the art by world-famous masters that adorn these walls, the exquisite works created by anonymous men in honor of their God move me in a way that other pieces cannot."
He reached out and turned a page. He heard Rowena draw in a tiny breath at the new pictures that were revealed.
"It’s exquisite," she breathed.
"There is much more to see," Alaric said, taking her hand. He led her further into the gallery, enjoying her childlike delight at every new revelation. He noted quickly that she had a well-developed appreciation for fine art and a good eye, picking out the notable points of each object with ease and accuracy. But the artwork could not hold his attention. He found himself watching Rowena as she wandered from object to object. Her hair glowed golden in the candlelight, her white skin above the low neckline of her gown begged for the touch of his fingers.
"Alaric?"
He started and returned to the gallery. His mind had been somewhere very different, with Rowena naked in his arms. She was by far the loveliest thing in the room, he thought, outshining every masterpiece on display.
"Yes, my dear?"
"This is a Botticelli, is it not?"
Alaric looked at the painting she was gazing at, a young woman with flowing golden hair.
"One of my more recent acquisitions," he murmured. "She is lovely, isn’t she?"
"Very. I imagine the painter must have been in love with his subject."
"Possibly," said Alaric. "Or, more likely, he simply desired her. Desire is a powerful emotion."
Rowena felt a tremor shoot through her at Alaric’s words. "As is love," she answered quietly.
"Indeed." Alaric took her hand in his. "What do you think of my gallery, Rowena?"
"It is magnificent, my lord. I am impressed by both your taste and your perseverance. It must have been difficult to find and acquire all these objects."
"When I decide I want something, there is nothing that can stop me," observed Alaric.
"So I have been told," said Rowena.
He looked down at her face and cursed himself for his thoughtless words. She had temporarily forgotten the strain between them, and he had reminded her of it.
"There is much more, of course," he said quickly, hoping to distract her. "Many objects are at my country estate, and some of the most valuable are kept locked in a safe."
"A safe?" asked Rowena, surprised. "What could there possibly be more valuable than these works?"
Alaric laughed. "Some items of jewelry and a few other small objects," he murmured. "Sometime I will show you. The rubies which once belonged to Mary of Scotland would look delightful on you."
Rowena flushed. "I wouldn’t dare to wear a queen’s jewels."
Alaric stopped and gazed down at her. "They couldn’t do justice to your beauty, Rowena. You would outshine them by far. No queen could be more lovely than you."
Rowena’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. He seemed very serious, deep admiration reflected in his gaze.
"You are by far the most precious thing in this gallery, Rowena," he continued. "You must understand how greatly I value you."
She trembled. He had not mentioned love, but perhaps this was as close as Alaric could come to admitting that he had some sort of affection for her. Or maybe he said that he valued her because that was precisely how he felt about her; she was a sign of his ultimate triumph over her family and a valuable addition to his collection, a symbol of Alaric’s determination to always obtain what he desired. She searched his eyes again, hoping for some sign of what he meant.
Alaric smiled gently. Rowena looked confused, nervous, and incredibly desirable. He could see the concern warring with the passion in her gaze. It was important that he find a way to make the passion win. The thought of another night without her was unbearable. Last night he had been drunk, and that was a state of oblivion he would have to find again and again if Rowena did not take pity on him soon.
But it would not do to frighten her now. He had made a good start, and he must act on it. "Come, let us look at more of the gallery. We have barely covered half of it."
Rowena started and then slowly took the hand he offered her. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked in a small voice.
"About your beauty? Of course I did. I believe I once told you I do not say things I do not mean. You may count on me for honesty, Rowena."
She paused at a painting of a naked woman lounging on a couch, her hand reaching seductively out of the painting. She flushed slightly and turned away, moving hastily on to the next piece.
"You have not always been honest with me," she said slowly.
"When have I ever lied to you, Rowena?" Alaric sounded hurt.
"You let me think you believed Malcolm was innocent," she said, her voice gaining strength. "I thought you were truly trying to help me."
Alaric gritted his teeth. Trust Rowena to remember the one time he had abandoned his principles. He had done it for her, after all. It was the only way he could think of to make her spend time with him. And he had needed desperately to be near her, though that had been only a fraction of the need he felt now.
"I apologize for that deception," he said softly. "It was wrong of me to treat you so. My only excuse is that I desired to spend time with you, and could think of no other way to obtain my goal."
"And is obtaining your desires always of paramount importance with you?" asked Rowena. "That will be very difficult to adapt myself to. Occasionally there are things that I want as well." She didn’t look at him, but instead inspected closely a lovely medieval wood carving of the Virgin.
Alaric paused. He chose his words carefully. "I did not have anyone to think of besides myself and I admit that I lived my life selfishly. Now your desires are as important as mine, Rowena. If there is anything you want, I
will make sure that you have it."
"Anything?" she asked.
"Anything at all. You have only to ask for it. Have I not given you what you have asked for so far?"
Rowena smiled slowly, thinking of his promise of the day before. "Indeed you have. You are a most generous husband."
Alaric grimaced. His body was hard with arousal. If he could not talk Rowena into succumbing soon, he would have to get far away from her as quickly as possible. Perhaps the gaming halls would see the Earl of Brayleigh for a second night in a row.
"Rowena, you must believe me when I say that I want only your happiness. I have made that my primary goal from today onward."
Her violet eyes flashed as she glanced up at him. His face was very stern, almost as though it was carved from stone. She longed to reach up and touch it to assure herself he was indeed made of flesh and blood. The thought made her tingle. Touching Alaric in the past had been a most arousing experience.
She paused before a very elegant piece of furniture, elaborately carved in the style of the previous century and upholstered in rich blue satin.
"What is this?" she asked.
Alaric stifled a groan. Her interest in his collection was beginning to tax his patience. He wanted all of her attention for himself.
"This belonged to Louis XV of France," he explained. "Or, actually, it is said to have belonged to his mistress, Madame de la Pompadour. I purchased it because it is a particularly fine example of the craftsman’s art."
Rowena nodded. "La Pompadour was a legendary beauty. Perhaps she and the king sat together on this couch."
"Perhaps," said Alaric, thinking of other activities the notorious couple might have engaged in on the settee.
Rowena swung around on Alaric and looked up at him accusingly. "Do you promise not to deceive me again?" she asked abruptly.
Alaric blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Will you promise never to lie to me again?" Rowena looked quite fierce.
Alaric thought about what she asked. "There are times when it might be in your best interest if you did not know everything," he said. "I must protect you, Rowena. I know a great deal more about the world than you do."
"There. That is precisely the problem. I cannot be married to a man who insists that unpleasant realities need to be kept from me. We must be equal partners, my lord." Rowena flung her hands up in the air.
"Equal partners?" Alaric’s voice reflected his amazement. "In a marriage?"
"Precisely. This is why our investigation did not succeed before. You kept important facts from me. If I had known the whole truth, perhaps we might have done better. It is important that you tell me everything."
"But Rowena, there are matters that a gentleman does not share with a woman, even his wife," said Alaric, flustered.
"That is the problem with most marriages. My parents told one another everything, and they were very happy."
"They did not tell you that Malcolm was alive. They must have realized the need for occasional secrets." Alaric pointed out.
"And see the harm that caused?" said Rowena. "If they had been honest with me matters would be quite different today. You and I might have avoided this hasty marriage. If we are to be husband and wife, my lord, you must promise to keep no secrets from me."
Alaric hesitated. He was startled and mildly irritated by Rowena’s surprising demand. A man did not tell his wife everything; it was unreasonable that she should expect it of him. But when he looked into her determined face he could see that she meant what she said.
"Very well, Rowena. I will not deceive you again."
"Do you promise?"
"I promise," he said firmly. "Now you must believe me."
"I do, my lord. I have faith in your word."
Rowena turned away, a smile on her face. She looked so young and carefree at that moment, and Alaric felt a sudden surge of satisfaction that he had made her so. He reached out with one hand and touched her shoulder, his hand gliding softly along the bare flesh.
"And now you must promise me something," he said.
Rowena froze, her thoughts concentrated solely on the pressure of his fingers on her skin. She suddenly became aware once again of how very alone they were.
"What is that?" she asked in a muffled voice.
"That you will rid yourself of this dreadful habit of calling me ‘my lord’," he answered. "I find it quite intolerable. I believe I have spoken to you about it before."
"Oh. That." Rowena’s voice sounded oddly disappointed. "But I have told you it is difficult to call you by your name until I know you better. ‘Alaric’ does not come easily to my lips, I fear."
"Then you must practice it. You have called me Alaric upon occasion." He thought of the time in her aunt’s garden, and again yesterday when she thought she had hurt him.
"That is only when my mind is on other things," she said hastily. "But I will try to practice, my lord."
She clapped a hand over her mouth as the words escaped her, and a mischievous twinkle stole into her eyes. Alaric laughed.
"I must make you think of other things then, I see." He hand tightened on her shoulder, and he gently, irresistibly turned her towards him. She dropped her eyes when she stood facing him, and he had to place one hand under her chin and raise it before she would look at him.
"I believe I can do that quite easily," he murmured. "I have had some experience along those lines."
Chapter 19
Rowena watched, mesmerized, as he lowered his head to hers. There was a glimmer of laughter in his green eyes, but behind that his expression was very serious. He moved very slowly, giving her the chance to draw away, but she stood as though turned to stone, unable to budge from the spot. When his lips met hers she made a tiny sound, halfway between a gasp and a moan. Alaric paused, waiting, realizing that his fate, at least for that night, was in Rowena’s hands.
Alaric brushed his mouth over Rowena’s lightly, teasingly, seductively, gently urging her to open her lips. Suddenly she trembled and raised her hands to his shoulders, returning his kiss with a ferocity that both surprised and delighted him. He had not been mistaken. She was suffering as much from her unreasonable demand as he was.
He drew her gently to him, anxious not to break the spell by moving too quickly. It was torture for him to wait, but he knew that Rowena needed to be treated gently, to be coaxed along. She could still draw back if she wanted to. He had to make certain that she had no such wish.
Alaric deepened the kiss, and felt her lips tremble and part under his. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and moved one hand down her body, cupping her gently so that her hips rested lightly against his rigid shaft. She froze for a moment, but he held her immobile, his mouth persuasively promising her greater satisfaction.
With a murmur Rowena leaned against him and gave herself up to the passion that was building within her. She felt an odd sensation pooling in her lower abdomen and her knees went weak. If Alaric had let go of her, she was quite certain she would fall to the floor. She clutched at his coat with frenzied fingers.
"I’m not going anywhere, darling," he murmured. "Not unless you tell me to."
She made a small disappointed sound when he raised his lips from hers, but he promptly turned his attention to her neck, raining small kisses on her throat and working his way around to the sensitive nape. Rowena shivered.
"Do you like that?" he asked. She nodded dreamily, concentrating on the exquisite sensations that were shooting through her body, making her move uneasily in his grasp. She tried to press herself closer to him and raised her lips for his kiss.
Alaric gave a tiny laugh. He was glad to know that his wife burned as he did. It made up for some of the discomfort he had been suffering. He suppressed a triumphant smile and raised his hand to gently thrust one finger under the neckline of her low bodice, searching for and finding her nipple. It was already hard and peaked with excitement, and he teased it gently, bringing forth a tiny gasp.
"Alaric!"
"You see, it comes quite easily to your lips now," he said. "Soon you will be very familiar with it."
Rowena flushed slightly, but did not draw away. Alaric gently reached around her to open the tapes of her gown, slowly loosening them and then gently easing her bodice down over her exquisite breasts. He drew in his breath at the sight.
"You must tell me how you feel," he said, gazing into her passion-darkened eyes. Slowly he lowered his head and took one delicate fruit in his mouth, softly circling the nipple with his tongue before biting down gently with his teeth. Rowena gave a squeak of surprise and pleasure.
"Do you like that?" he asked. Rowena didn’t answer, but her hand came up to stroke his hair, and he took that as a positive response. He turned his attention to her other breast, taking the berry-red nipple in his mouth, tantalizing and teasing it until Rowena sagged in his arms.
He picked her up and walked hastily to the settee, placing her on it and lowering himself down next to her. She seemed to come back to her senses for a moment.
"Alaric, this is a valuable antique," she protested without much heat. "We might damage it."
"I don’t care if we break it into kindling," he said fiercely. "I cannot wait another minute for you."
Rowena looked up into his glittering eyes and felt a tiny flash of fear. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I must have you now. Tell me that I may continue. If you do not I will go quite mad." Alaric took her neck in his hands and forced her head back so his eyes bored into hers. "I must have you tonight, Rowena. But you must tell me that you want me as well. I will not make you beg for my favors as I threatened last night, my dear, but you must tell me now that you want this. I will have no recriminations from you later."
Rowena swallowed. She wanted him desperately, but was reluctant to give up the one tiny piece of control she still had over her life. If she gave him his way tonight would she ever be able to exercise control over any aspect of her life again? But he was asking, not demanding and taking as he had in manipulating her into this marriage.
"What would you do if I said no?"
A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1) Page 17
