Undone - Virginia Henley

by Virginia Henley

  They walked down to the river together and were glad to see they were the only two females adventurous enough to go out on the water. The small watercraft had been fitted with padded leather seats, with cushions piled against the backboards so ladies could recline in comfort.

  Will waited on the wooden landing holding his boat's mooring rope, but John stood in the boat he had chosen, with his legs braced apart to keep it from rocking.

  Charlie climbed in, and the boat rocked from side to side in spite of Will's efforts to hold it steady. John, with supreme confidence, held up his arms to lift Elizabeth from the landing. She went down to him without hesitation, showing that she put complete trust in his ability to keep her safe. When he took full advantage of the opportunity to snatch a quick kiss, she wondered if her trust was misplaced and smiled a secret smile. She sat down amidst the cushions and opened her rose-colored parasol, while John removed his jacket and took up the oars.

  She noticed a picnic basket tucked beneath his seat. "We've only just finished lunch. What's in the basket?"

  "Something to drink in case we get thirsty." He rowed out into the current but not all the way to the middle where the Thames' tide flowed too rapidly. They drifted downriver as swans glided away from them toward the safety of the bank.

  "Look, a pair of black swans! Perhaps it is Jupiter and Leda."

  "Your knowledge of mythology tells me you've had a classical education. I'm hungry to learn more about you, Elizabeth."

  Since her "classical education" consisted of stories her father had told, she gave him a teasing reply. "I shall remain a mystery." She watched him through half-closed eyes. "It is you I wish to explore."

  _Does she realize that's a double entendre_? She looked so innocent it was impossible for him to decide. "I much prefer exploring you but perhaps it would be fun to explore each other." He could tell she blushed, in spite of the glow from her parasol.

  "Do you enjoy saying wicked things to me?"

  He laughed. "I must confess that I do. It gives me pleasure to see the roses bloom in your cheeks. Now it's your turn--say something wicked to me."

  She tilted her head, watching his muscles flex beneath the fine lawn shirt. "I have an affinity with animals and find that you have an animal magnetism that attracts me."

  He was stunned at the honesty and intimacy of her words. _Lord God, I may have to protect her from herself_! "Elizabeth ... Beth, you really shouldn't go around saying things like that to the opposite sex. You will be meeting a lot of men at social functions this Season, many of whom will try to take advantage of you."

  "Will _you_ take advantage of me, John?"

  _Is she extending me an invitation_? He had the decency to flush, for indeed he had every intention of taking advantage of her sooner or later. Since she was being honest with him, he warned, "Given half a chance, you know I will."

  His words, coupled with his predatory glance, sent a shiver of anticipation racing through her blood. A delicious heightened tension shimmered between them. It was like a game that only two could play, and though she was unsure of the rules, she had every intention of participating. Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks as suddenly she recognized that what she felt for this dark, powerful man was desire. The knowledge did not frighten her; it emboldened her. "I attended Almack's on my birthday and received more male attention than I've ever had before. I don't think any of them wanted to take advantage of me."

  "Believe me when I tell you that they did, Elizabeth. It is simply that at Almack's the proprieties must be observed and the mothers are the predators. Males prefer other hunting grounds."

  The corners of her mouth lifted. "Such as Chiswick?"

  John threw back his head and laughed, displaying the corded muscles in his neck. "Such as Chiswick," he admitted.

  "When does the hunt begin?" she challenged.

  "It has begun. The predator has already separated his prey from the pack and the water prevents her escape."

  She began to sing the popular hunting ballad "John Peel":

  "For the sound of his horn brought me from my bed

  And the cry of his hounds which he oft times led,

  Peel's 'view halloo' would awaken the dead

  Or the fox from HER lair in the morning."

  "If you play the role of vixen, Elizabeth, which shall I play, the hound or the gallant John Peel?"

  "I hope you will play the gallant John Campbell."

  "_Touché _... you disarm me at every turn."

  "I doubt that, Lord Sundridge. A relentless hunter like you most likely keeps a concealed weapon about his person."

  His concealed weapon immediately hardened and lengthened. "You know all my secrets." He steered the boat toward the bank where weeping willows dipped their branches into the water. As they drifted beneath the leafy green boughs, he joined her among the cushions and reached for the basket. He produced a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He popped the cork and poured the wine then unwrapped a linen napkin that held chocolate truffles. He lifted a tempting bonbon to her lips and murmured intimately, "You know I cannot resist watching you eat, Elizabeth."

  She bit down with sharp teeth then licked the luscious soft center and thrilled as his dark eyes devoured her.

  He lifted the glasses of champagne, one to her lips, one to his own. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."

  She drank deeply and sighed with pleasure. Then she closed her parasol and took her champagne from him. As her hand touched his she felt a little shock. "A spark flew between us."

  "It happens every time we touch." He waited till she drained her glass then took it from her. "Let me show you." He slid his arms about her, bringing her closer so that the tips of her breasts momentarily brushed against the fine lawn of his shirt. The sensitivity of her nipples amazed her and indeed it did feel as if sparks flew between them. Then he crushed her breasts against his hard muscled chest. His gaze was intense as slowly, deliberately, he softly brushed his lips against hers and murmured, "Feel the fire." Then his mouth took possession of hers in a fiery, hot kiss that burned her lips and scalded her heart.

  As she felt his body's heat seep into her, the flame of her desire flared up in a brilliant flash that blinded her to caution or discretion. Her fingers threaded into his black hair, holding him captive for her mouth's ravishing.

  Finally he lifted his mouth and gazed down at her half-closed eyes. "I wanted to give you your first taste of passion." He stroked the back of his fingers across her delicate cheek. "Once tasted, never forgotten."

  The hunt had ended, the seduction begun. Unbidden words _from "John Peel" ran through his head: From a find to a check, from a check to a view, from a view to a death in the morning_.

  John felt a pang--nothing so puritanical as guilt--but it caused him to pause in his headlong rush toward sensual satisfaction. She was a gift to be savored, cherished. In an encounter with a female as lovely and innocent as this one, there should be a prelude ... a long, lingering, pleasurable prelude to the mating dance.

  He released her and refilled her glass. "Sip your champagne and eat your chocolates, while I take us up the river to Kew. Since you are a wood nymph, I know the gardens will delight you."

  John moored the boat at the wooden landing and, without asking permission, picked up his lady and carried her onto a broad expanse of sweeping lawns. "Here are three hundred acres to wander at your heart's content with thousands of varieties of plants." He swung her around playfully before setting her feet to the ground.

  "Why are you deliberately trying to make me dizzy?"

  "So that you will stagger and cling to me."

  She laughed up into his face, and he slipped his arm about her and drew her close to his side. They walked past flower beds ablaze with autumn color. Yellow and bronze chrysanthemums towered beside white and purple asters and black-eyed daisies. Pink lupins nodded beside mauve larkspur and blue delphiniums. Late-summer roses bloomed next to beds of heliotrope, filling the warm afternoon air with their head
y fragrance.

  She urged him toward an area of intricate pathways edged with herbaceous borders whose intoxicating scent drew a myriad of tiny butterflies. She could name all of the herbs, while he could name none, but he took delight in her enchantment and was bemused at how young and carefree she made him feel. "Would you like to go through the greenhouses where the more exotic plants are grown?"

  She glanced across the gardens toward the glass hothouses and shook her head shyly. "There are too many people there. I don't like crowds ... and I'd much rather be alone with you."

  He looked down at her quizzically. "From what I hear, the Gunning ladies attract crowds wherever they go. Surely that is _most flattering_?"

  "It's Maria's beauty that attracts crowds. She loves the attention when people stare and whisper, but there are many times when I would much rather be private."

  He weighed her words for sincerity. How could she possibly believe that Maria was more beautiful? "To avoid people, we'll keep a safe distance from Kew Palace. Let's walk through the orchards and see if I'm better at naming fruit than herbs." With a perfectly straight face he said, "These I believe are apples and those over there are pears."

  He bent to pick up a small, hard fruit that had fallen to the ground and held it on his open palm so they could inspect it. When Beth reached for it and lifted it to her nose, he cautioned, "Don't taste it. Unripe persimmons are nasty, bitter fruit. Here, have one of these instead." He reached up and picked a Persian plum for the sheer pleasure of watching her eat it.

  "Surely it is against the rules to pick the fruit!"

  "Some rules cry out to be broken, and forbidden fruit is always sweeter." He grinned wickedly. "Sin now; beg forgiveness later." He dipped his head to steal a kiss and tasted plum on her lips.

  When they returned to the boat, he pointed across the river.

  "That's Syon House. It's rather plain on the outside but the Adam interiors are magnificent."

  "Plain? I would call it square and ugly. Didn't it belong to the Dudleys in Elizabethan times? I expected Syon to look more romantic, because of its stirring history. Instead, it's like a fortress ... I feel sorry for whoever lives there."

  Again he weighed her words, wondering if they were sincere. Surely every _debutante_ in Society was seeking a husband with a large, magnificent house, crammed with objets d'art and a staff of a hundred servants to wait upon her hand and foot? Perhaps Beth was the exception to the rule--a female not ruled by ambition. John began to realize that, ambitious or not, Elizabeth had beguiled him. He knew he wanted her and intended to have her. Marriage, however, never entered his mind.

  By twilight, most of the couples had returned from their various pursuits, and by the time dinner was served at eight, the only male and female conspicuously absent were Rachel Cavendish and the young Earl of Orford. Everyone was seated around the dining room table when the couple finally made their appearance.

  Rachel, breathless and more than a little disheveled, drew every eye. Orford held her chair and when she sat down, he cupped her shoulders in such a proprietary manner that she burst out, "Orford asked me to marry him--and I said _yes_!"

  The earl looked quickly toward her brother, Will, as the men began to congratulate him. "Of course I still have to approach your father and ask His Grace for his daughter's hand."

  Everyone laughed and began to talk at once. Elizabeth murmured to John, "Will the Duke of Devonshire give his consent?"

  "Absolutely. The duke was the best of friends with Orford's uncle, Robert Walpole. It was the late Prime Minister who gave Devonshire the governorship of Ireland."

  As Elizabeth glanced around the table she knew a moment's panic. What on earth was she doing with all these wealthy, titled, famous people? One was the nephew of a Prime Minister, the Devonshires were the next thing to royalty, and even her dearest friend, Charlie, was the wealthiest heiress in the country. How long could she keep up this preposterous _charade_ of pretending to be one of them? She glanced down the table at Maria and caught her sister's look of raw envy as she stared at Rachel Cavendish.

  Maria Gunning, seething with jealousy, was completely free of the misgivings that assailed her sister. She swirled a pretty curl about her fingers as she turned speculative eyes upon the Earl of Coventry and brushed her leg against his. "George, do you have ambitions to become Prime Minister of England?"

  George knew that it took influence and money beyond his means, but he was extremely flattered by Maria's suggestion, and aroused by her touch. "I'm not without ambition, my dear." His first and foremost ambition, of course, was to get her to lie with him.

  As John Campbell looked down the table at Rachel Cavendish he felt a great deal of relief. Her relentless pursuit of him was over. At long last Rachel had given up on the chase, and brought Orford to earth. Words from "John Peel" again ran through his head: _From a check to a view, from a view to a death in the morning_. He lifted his wineglass. "A toast to the happy couple." Everyone saluted them, then John touched his glass to Elizabeth's and murmured low, "To us, sweetheart. To this moment and the moments we have yet to share."

  Elizabeth's panic dissolved. John made her feel so special.

  *Chapter Eleven*

  After dinner, a suggestion of cards was voted down by the ladies. The gentlemen were not too disappointed, since a game of hide-and-seek was proposed instead. Michael Boyle, accommodating as always, volunteered that he and Harriet Ponsonby would be first to hide their eyes and do the seeking. There were so many rooms in the villa, with numerous places of concealment, that the tantalizing game could be drawn out for hours.

  Each male had an identical goal: to find a place of privacy where he and his female companion could be alone and undisturbed for the best part of an hour. Will Cavendish and Charlie, hand in hand, made their way into the far recesses of the conservatory. In the dimly lit room, fragrant with fuchsia, they found a garden seat set amidst concealing palm fronds and sat down to cuddle.

  Maria Gunning led the way to the second story, with George eagerly in tow. With finger to her lips, she entered the bedchamber she was sharing with Harriet, divining that her own room would be the last place she would look. When Maria scorned a chair and sat down on one of the beds, George thought he was in paradise.

  John Campbell took Elizabeth down a central hallway to the east wing then led her up the back stairs and along to a walk-in linen closet. At one end, lavender-scented sheets, bolsters, and towels lay on shelves, while stacked at the other end were piles of soft blankets and feather pillows. Once he drew her inside and closed the door, they were in pitch blackness.

  Elizabeth stretched out her hands before her. "John, I cannot see anything. Where are you?"

  With his mouth close to her ear, he murmured, "Sshh! We must whisper or they will hear us. I know we cannot see, but we have our other senses that will be heightened in the darkness. We can still hear and smell and ... touch."

  His voice, soft as black velvet, insinuated itself inside her, luring her to imagine wicked fantasies. She drew in a swift breath as she felt his fingertips touch her face, tracing her eyebrows, her cheekbones, the outline of her lips. Then she felt him thread his fingers into her hair.

  "Whenever I see you, I want to touch your beautiful hair. You have the most alluring golden curls I've ever seen, and my fingers always itch to play with them."

  "You cannot see it now," she whispered.

  "All I have to do is close my eyes and I can always see it." He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. "I picture you naked, cloaked in your golden hair."

  She went faint at the thought. "You really do enjoy saying wicked things, and it isn't to see the roses bloom in my cheeks."

  "Sshh! Feel the fire, sweetheart." His arms enfolded her and pressed her softness against the hard length of his body. His mouth took hers in a possessive kiss that sent her blood running hot through her veins like wildfire. The tip of his tongue insinuated itself between her lips then thrust deep inside, filling h
er mouth and her senses with the taste of him.

  The sensual darkness and the knowledge that she would be unable to voice her objections inflamed his imagination. When he felt her stiffen and try to pull away, he would not allow it. Instead, he caressed her back with long, slow strokes, and gradually he felt her rigid muscles relax. The rough, soft slide of his tongue worked its magic, until she lifted her arms about his neck and melted against him.

  Though Elizabeth had tried to withdraw, her own longing to be held in his arms made it impossible. She learned exactly what it felt like to wage a losing battle against him and against herself. When he lifted his mouth from hers, he took hold of her hands and stroked them with the ball of his thumb. This reminded her of just how attractive his powerful hands were. Slowly, he raised one to his mouth and kissed each finger with reverence, then repeated the delicious process with her other hand. When he lifted it to his face and touched her fingertips to his brow, she began to trace his features, outlining the straight nose and muscled jaw. She touched his hair, remembering its night-black color, and knew that even in the darkness his brown-black eyes were devouring her.

  Slowly, tenderly, he lifted her against his heart and carried her to the pile of soft blankets and feather pillows. He set her down gently and followed her. Again, he threaded his fingers through hers and lifted her arms above her head, so that she reclined beneath him in a captive position that thrust her breasts snugly against the broad expanse of his muscled chest.

  Gradually, she became aware of his scent. It was a mixture of leather, sandal wood, and something male and dangerous. Yet as she lifted her mouth for his kiss, she had never felt safer in her life. The total blackness hid their provocative behavior, and she wished that the night could go on forever. Lying in his arms felt so right. Surely this was the way it was supposed to be between a man and a woman. She had longed for this closeness all her life.