by Diane Gaston
She had difficulty looking at him. ‘We just came from there.’
‘Dreadful bore,’ Edwin drawled.
‘Be quiet, Edwin,’ Marian said sharply. She’d reached the limits of her patience with her cousin.
The captain frowned at Edwin. ‘Have you been drinking?’
Edwin gave him a disdainful look. ‘Is it any concern of yours?’
Marian answered for her cousin. ‘Yes, he has been drinking. And he promised me he would not.’
One corner of Edwin’s mouth lifted in an attempt at a smile. His scar merely made the effort look distorted. ‘As I have explained to you, Marian, I promised I would not drink before calling upon Domina. I did not promise to refuse a drink when there. Ullman offered brandy and it would have been inhospitable to refuse.’
Marian turned away from him. This was what plagued her. Edwin’s explanations always sounded reasonable, whether about his drinking or about the captain in Paris.
The captain spoke, ‘May I speak with you alone, Marian?’
Edwin held up a hand. ‘Have no fear of offending me, Landon.’ His tone was sarcastic. ‘I actually have an important matter that requires my attention.’
Allan ignored him and waited for her answer.
She nodded and turned to her cousin. ‘Do not come to my house if you have been drinking. I mean it. I will turn you away.’
Edwin made an exaggerated bow. ‘I have learned from my one mistake.’
He sauntered away and the captain turned back to her. ‘I am glad you remember my warning about his drinking.’
‘Indeed,’ she said stiffly.
Her disordered emotions about him made it difficult for her to even think.
He looked at her with concern. ‘Marian, what distresses you?’
She wanted to believe in the captain, but both he and Edwin had been so convincing. ‘Edwin has tried my patience. He has confused me, but I cannot discuss it now.’ She forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘What did you wish to say to me?’
She could see flecks of brown in his hazel eyes as he searched her face. Suddenly his expression relaxed and the ghost of a smile lit his lips.
‘Do you have some time?’ he asked.
She felt breathless. ‘I am not expected anywhere, if that is what you mean.’
He took her hand. ‘Come with me. I will take you to see an old friend.’
He led her to a line of hackney coaches on Oxford Street. He helped her into one and she heard him tell the jarvey to take them to somewhere on Knightsbridge Street. The hack left them off a short distance from Hyde Park Corner in front of a stable.
Marian seized his arm in excitement. ‘You are taking me to see Valour!’
‘An old friend, I said.’ He smiled.
They walked into a large, well-kept stable with lines of stalls housing beautiful riding horses.
A stable lad greeted them. ‘Saddle your horse, sir?’
‘No need,’ the captain replied. ‘We are merely making a social call.’
The man gave him a bewildered look, but went on with his chores.
The captain led her to Valour’s stall. The mare bobbed her head and shuffled in excitement.
‘Oh, Valour!’ Marian pressed her face against the horse’s neck and stroked her. ‘How I have missed you.’
For the moment all Marian’s worries fled in the pleasure of seeing the horse again.
‘There is a yard nearby,’ the Captain said. ‘We could give her a little walk.’
She beamed at him. ‘Oh, yes. Let’s do.’
He held the string to her bridle as they led her around the yard.
Marian turned to gaze at the mare. ‘I feel sorry for her being so confined.’
The Captain nodded. ‘I try to ride her as often as possible.’
‘Do you ride in Hyde Park?’ she asked, wanting desperately to merely enjoy the moment, the three of them together again.
‘In the early morning mostly. Hyde Park gives her a good run.’
She felt wistful. ‘I have never ridden much, but that sounds lovely.’
‘You have not ridden much?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Not living in Bath.’
He continued to lead Valour around the small yard. ‘You rode well enough in Belgium,’ he remarked.
She shook her head. ‘If I had been any kind of horsewoman, I would never have fallen off the horse I shared with Domina. I think Valour deserves most of the credit for me remaining on her back.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘Valour and you, of course. You held on to me.’
He glanced back at her. ‘We made a good team, you, Valour and I.’
She almost smiled. ‘We did.’ She held back to pat Valour’s muzzle.
Marian relished the memory of their days together, though they were fraught with hardship and danger. In many ways it had been as if no one else in the world existed but her, the captain and Valour. As they took another turn in the yard, the memories of Belgium returned. None of the memories fitted with Edwin’s version of him in Paris.
She took a breath. ‘I must ask you something, Captain.’
‘Of course.’
All her distressed nerves returned. ‘And you must tell me the truth.’
‘I will.’ He looked tentative, as if he was wary of what she would ask.
The clip-clop of Valour’s hooves echoed in the yard before she could speak. ‘Did you have an affair in Paris?’
He halted and it seemed as if his entire body tensed.
She went on, ‘Because Edwin still claims you did, and I cannot determine which of you to believe.’
He seemed to glare at her. ‘Are you asking me to prove it to you?’
She watched him, suddenly fearful of what he might say.
‘I cannot prove it.’ Pain flashed through his eyes. ‘If I produced witnesses, Edwin would merely say they were lying for me. I can prove nothing.’ His voice turned low. ‘Upon my honour—’ he touched her arm ‘—upon my honour, since meeting you there has been no other woman. I want to marry you, Marian. I want only you.’
She drew in a breath and felt tears sting her eyes. ‘Oh, Captain.’ It was the answer for which she’d hoped, but it only brought back the other barriers between them. Perhaps it would have been easier after all, if he’d been a man who’d deceived her all along.
‘Believe me, Marian.’ He touched her cheek and slid his fingers down to gently lift her chin.
Her heart pounded within her chest. Before she knew it, she closed the distance between them, twining her arms around his neck and pulling his head down into a kiss that overtook her senses, made her feel lighthearted, made her want more. He held her against him and she cared not one whit if someone walked into the yard and saw them.
Valour trotted up and nuzzled them, nickering low. They broke apart.
‘Valour is jealous, I think,’ he said.
Marian still clung to his arm. ‘Come home with me.’
They returned a disappointed Valour to her stable and fussed over her a bit before Marian gave the horse one last goodbye hug.
‘You will see her again, Marian,’ Allan promised. ‘In fact, you can ride her one morning.’
‘I would like that.’ But she knew that would never happen. She’d follow Yost’s advice and continue to allow him to court her to deflect any suspicion of her, but after the march she must release him.
Arm in arm, they walked to Hyde Park Corner where they caught a hackney coach to carry them back to Marian’s house. He held her as they rode.
‘What saddens you?’ he asked as the swaying of the coach and his arms lulled her.
‘I am not sad,’ she said.
He frowned and she knew she’d not convinced him.
The coach delivered them to her door, and Marian pulled her key from her reticule and handed it to him. She could make an excuse and bid him goodbye on her doorstep.
Instead she said, ‘Reilly is still away and I suspect the other servants are busy.’
His e
yes darkened. ‘And Blanche?’
She whispered, ‘With Mr Yost, of course.’
His expression changed for a moment, as if he’d had an upsetting thought, but he turned the key in the lock and swept her into an embrace as soon as they entered and closed the door behind them. His kiss sent her senses reeling and filled her with a desire she had no intention of denying.
He must have had the same thought, because he lifted her into his arms and carried her above stairs to her bedchamber. Before he even set her on her feet, she pulled off her hat and tossed it away. He sat her upon the bed and kissed her again as his hat, too, came off and he unbuttoned his coat.
As the captain stepped away to pull off his boots, Marian kicked off her shoes and took off her pelisse. She undid the bodice of her dress and slid the garment off, letting it fall to the floor. She turned her back to him, and without her asking, he loosened the laces of her corset.
Soon she was clad only in her shift and he in his shirt. She lifted the garment over her head and let the sunlight in the room reveal her nakedness.
He stilled and his eyes seemed to drink her in.
Perhaps if she were very lucky this would not be the last time with him. She could not be certain, however. She took a deep breath and resolved to remember every tiny detail. His glorious masculine body. The feel of his hands and lips against her skin. The incandescent pleasure she knew would come.
Allan let his gaze touch every part of her, from the luxurious blonde tresses escaping their pins, to her kiss-reddened lips, the graceful curve of her neck.
The fullness of her breasts.
Her skin was smooth as cream and seemed to shimmer from the sunlight pouring in the room. He was glad they made love in the light, as if there were no secrets between them.
He should have guessed her change in mood had been Edwin’s doing. Would he always have to battle the doubt Edwin seemed to know how to plant in her mind? If so, he would fight valiantly for her to believe him.
There was no woman but her for him.
His gaze continued, feeling reverent as he savoured her narrow waist and perfect navel. She remained boldly still, even when he took in the dark hair between her legs.
She became shy then, moving back upon the bed, lying against the pillows. He tore off his shirt and joined her, taking her head in his hands and leaning down to again taste her lips.
When he released her mouth, she sighed. ‘I wish—’ She broke off.
He tasted the tender skin beneath her ear. ‘What do you wish?’
‘You and I,’ she murmured, not finishing her sentence.
He remembered then, the secrets he was hiding from her and felt ashamed after she’d exposed herself so openly to him.
He tensed. ‘Marian, I have something to tell you—’
A tiny line formed between her brows. ‘Then tell me later.’ She reached for him and pulled him down upon her again.
He wanted to soothe her, to reassure her all would be well, but he knew his news of Yost would cause problems between them.
He stroked her skin, trying to calm her and himself, as well. He felt her desire grow under his touch. He kissed her again, one long, needful kiss, full of both promise and regret.
She opened to him and he entered her, savouring the warmth of her against him, of how they fit together with such perfection. To move inside her felt staggeringly wonderful. He moved slowly, wanting this sensation of joining with her to last as long as possible.
Desire overtook him and control fled. He drove into her with intense need. She met his pace, as if she responded to some inexplicable urgency. The sound of their joining and their breathing filled his ears until he was no longer able to compose a coherent thought. He was aware only of her. The pleasure of her. The intense need of her, a need that would never cease.
She cried out, and he felt her release spasm around him. She pushed him over the edge, shattering him with pleasure as he spilled his seed inside her.
She whimpered and tears shimmered in her eyes. He lifted his weight from her and rolled to her side. ‘My God, did I hurt you?’
She covered her face with her arm. ‘No. No. It was all I could desire.’ She rose on an elbow and slid herself on top of him, her mouth finding his.
She quickly aroused him again with heated kisses and he showed her that he could enter her while she straddled him. She was a quick pupil because once more they moved in perfect accord, this time without the strange intensity of before. This time was quieter, a solace where before had been urgency. Together they again climbed to the pinnacle, slow and steady, until the end which was every bit a frenzy of bliss as before.
She collapsed on top of him and Allan felt awash in perfect contentment. Perfect union.
A cloud crossing in front of the sun darkened the room. Soon the servants and Blanche would return.
Their interlude had come to an end.
‘I should dress,’ Allan said, facing a reality he could not like.
‘We both must.’ She moved out of his arms and sat up. Her golden hair tumbled over her shoulders and more hairpins fell, joining others that now peppered the bed. ‘Blanche will be home soon. She invited Mr Yost to dinner.’ Yost.
Allan could delay this no longer.
Marian rose from the bed and turned to him, before donning her shift. ‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’
She would withdraw the invitation when he finished what he had to say to her.
He put on his shirt and trousers.
She sat at a dressing table and ran a brush through her hair. ‘You did not answer. Would you like to stay for dinner?’
He walked over to stand behind her, meeting her gaze through the mirror that faced her. ‘I have something of importance to tell you.’
She froze, brush poised in the air.
‘I discovered something,’ he began.
Her brows rose slightly.
He girded himself. ‘I discovered that your neighbour, Mr Yost, is planning a march on London—a soldiers’ march.’
She averted her gaze and continued to brush her hair. ‘Do not be ridiculous.’
He looked down on her. ‘It is true, Marian. I heard it myself, and Sidmouth knows as well.’
She gaped at him. ‘You informed on Mr Yost?’
‘No, another man did that.’ An unscrupulous man, Allan feared.
She put her brush down with a trembling hand. ‘Why do you tell me of this?’
He crouched down so he could look at her directly. ‘Because he is your friend and Blanche’s lover. And he is in danger of arrest.’
‘You will arrest him?’ Her eyes hardened.
‘If the march takes place, or if there is some proof of his conspiracy, like a letter with his name on it, I may be forced to.’ He touched her arm. ‘The Seditious Meetings Act makes it a crime.’
‘It is unjust.’ Her eyes flashed at him. ‘Besides, it sounds as if you only have rumours and speculation. You cannot arrest Yost on those grounds.’
‘We do not need a reason to arrest him.’ With the suspension of habeas corpus they could detain anyone they chose. ‘Sidmouth will want to wait until he knows more before arresting Yost. Such as the time and place of the march and others who can be implicated in the planning of it.’
‘And you think I can tell you who that is?’ Her voice turned cold.
He jerked back. ‘Not at all.’ At least, not until this moment. His eyes narrowed. ‘If you do know something, Marian, I would beg you to tell me.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I would tell you nothing. If I knew something, that is.’
His mind was turning, calculating the timing of events. Yost’s writings about the plight of the soldiers were printed months ago, yet the Home Office heard no rumours of Yost planning some demonstration until about a month ago.
Allan stood. ‘How long have you been acquainted with Yost?’
Her face became like a mask. ‘Are you interrogating me, Captain?’
He put his ha
nds on his hips. ‘Answer the question, Marian.’
‘We met him after moving in, of course.’
That told him nothing except that she was being evasive. Why? He’d expected her to be upset at this news, but, by all signs, she’d not been surprised at it.
Allan’s mind turned quickly. Besides the plight of the soldiers, Yost had written fervently about other radical issues, taking up the cause of the weavers, writing against the Corn Laws, all manner of topics. What had induced him to settle on the soldiers’ problems? And how did he go from merely writing essays to becoming the leader of a soldiers’ march?
Allan knew of only one person who so single-mindedly embraced the soldiers’ cause. In fact, she would run into a burning building for them.
He stared down at her. ‘You are in on this, are you not, Marian? You are in the thick of it with Yost.’
She shot to her feet. ‘Now you are being ridiculous.’
He seized her arms. ‘Good God, Marian. How deep in are you?’
She tried to pull away. ‘Release me, Captain.’
He tightened his grip. ‘First tell me! How deep?’
She met his eye with defiance. ‘If I were involved, I would be a fool to tell you, would I not?’
He shook her. ‘You risk arrest every bit as much as Yost. The penalty of sedition is death.’
Her face flushed with colour. ‘Are you threatening me, Captain?’
‘I am warning you, Marian.’ He released her.
She glared at him. ‘You accuse me of sedition. I accuse you of betraying men who fought and suffered at your side during the war. I cannot believe you are saying these things to me.’
‘I am not betraying them.’ He raised his voice. ‘I am supporting the law.’
‘A law that would put me to death for encouraging men to demand help?’ She strode away from him, but turned back. ‘It is said that Sidmouth hired provocateurs at Spa Fields and that they caused the violence, not the protesters. Is Sidmouth in danger of hanging, or would it merely be me?’
He looked her in the eye. ‘He has hired men this time as well. You cannot go through with this. It is too dangerous.’
‘I am no stranger to danger, am I, Captain?’ She lifted her chin. ‘Besides, I might have been speaking hypothetically. Will you arrest me for speaking hypothetically?’
