Undone - Virginia Henley

by Virginia Henley

  "I didn't dare think about you. The longing inside me was an unbearable agony. And now you're here--real--not a dream."

  They started to undress each other, laughing exultantly at the tangle they got into; when they were naked, their amusement vanished, replaced by the reeling urgency of scalding passion that had been denied too long. His hungry mouth moved from her lips down to her lush breasts, soft belly, and hot cleft between her legs. Her mouth too was ravenous as she traced her tongue down his rib cage and brushed her lips against his muscled thigh.

  "Dear God, Beth, don't put your mouth anywhere near the ravening beast, or I'll spend." He took her firmly by the shoulders, forcing her to lie still, then straddled her hips.

  She stilled for a moment, though her breasts rose and fell as she gasped for breath, then she arched against him, inviting him to plunder the hidden treasure she would never yield to another. She had never felt less like a lady, or more like a woman, in her life. Only he could arouse such flagrant desire ... only he could inflame her passions ... only he could put out the fire that threatened to consume her. She surrendered without regret or reservation.

  With each hot, driving thrust he relished every shiver, every shudder, every hungry moan, every scream of excitement. Then his own groans and exultant shouts rent the air as he exploded, and his love and passion poured over her like molten lava.

  He collapsed his weight upon her and they lay suspended in another time and place, a dark erotic cave where they alone dwelled and the world receded, leaving them in a cocoon of contentment.

  With her lips against his throat, Elizabeth whispered, "John, that was perfect. This time there will be no guilt."

  "Guilt?" John sounded as if the emotion were alien to him.

  "Last time I was covered with guilt. After the storm, Hamilton sent for me and said he would meet me at Uppingham. I knew Charlie had smallpox the day after I arrived. I sent baby James home with his father and promised to follow. I didn't, of course. I stayed with Will to nurse her. When she died I thought I was being punished for committing adultery with you."

  His arms enfolded her, wanting to protect her. "You showed great courage. Guilt is destructive. I hope you banished it forever."

  Her lips brushed his cheek. "I finally realized Charlie's death had nothing to do with my sins. But I didn't banish it forever. It came rushing back when Hamilton died. I feared a third death ... yours ... would be my punishment."

  "I shall die on the upstroke--" He stopped. It was an old joke.

  "Beth, I'm so sorry about Charlie. I had no idea you were with her when she died. I know that Will almost went mad with grief." He hesitated. "Why did you feel guilt over Hamilton's death, love?"

  "Because I hated him--because I was glad that he died." She hesitated. This was no fit subject for lovers. If she was not careful, guilt would again sink its relentless fangs into her.

  "It had naught to do with you. James drank himself to death. Plain and simple. We all knew it was inevitable. That's one of the reasons why I was so incensed when you married him."

  She raised her eyes to his. "When I learned that my mother had accepted Hamilton's offer, I came to Half-Moon Street to tell you I would come and live with you in Kent. You had left for Argyll because your brother had been killed. But everyone told me you had gone to marry Mary Montagu."

  "You should never have believed them, Beth. You had all of my heart. I came back from Argyll realizing that life was too short to live without happiness. I returned, intent on asking you to be my wife, but you were already wed. How sinfully ironic."

  "Sinful?"

  "Sinful to have wasted so many years apart." He leered down at her with dark, smoldering eyes. "Now I shall have to make up for lost time." He covered her soft lips with his in a melting kiss that rendered them boneless. It was a prelude to the slow lovemaking he intended to draw out for hours. After the hot, impatient sexual encounter in which they had indulged, he was now ready to teach her what making love was all about.

  Afterwards, at last replete, they drifted into sleep, their arms and legs still entwined. At dawn they stirred in their warm nest, and Elizabeth brushed her lips against his heart. "I didn't even ask why you are here."

  "I'm on my way to Argyll to recruit again. This time we are in need of sailors for the British navy. It will be good to see my father. He doesn't have the robust health he once enjoyed."

  Beth's arms tightened about him to comfort him, and they drowsed away another delicious hour until the sunlight woke them. She sat up in bed and stretched luxuriantly. "I must go home and so must you, my love. I regret that our time together has been so short."

  "We won't be apart for long. Your year of mourning is almost up. As soon as I get to Inveraray I'll prepare them for our wedding. The only question that remains is _when_ you'll marry me."

  She threw back the covers, slid from the bed and turned to face him. "I will never marry you, John."

  He sat up like a shot. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I hated marriage and loathed being a duchess. I don't want us to be husband and wife. I want us to be lovers."

  "That's out of the question. You are a duchess--you cannot carry on a flagrant affair! You would be ostracized, your name dragged through the mud. You have no idea what vultures the nobility are."

  "Oh, I think I do." She pulled on her petticoat. "Elizabeth Gunning wasn't good enough to be the wife of Argyll, but the Duchess of Hamilton is imminently suitable. Because I was wed to that swine, James Douglas, and he bestowed his noble title upon me, I am now eligible to become your wife."

  "That's rubbish!" He threw back the covers and jumped from the bed, naked. "I want you to be my wife because I love you!"

  She surveyed his powerful body from head to heel. "Dark, dominant, and dangerous ... delicious in a lover. Anathema in a husband. I shall _never_ marry, _never_ put myself under a man's control again. Please understand, John. I am free. I will never under any circumstances squander my precious freedom."

  He strode round the bed and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You willful little bitch!" He began to shake some sense into her.

  "If you shake me till my teeth rattle and your balls dance up and down, you won't change my mind. Rather you will reinforce my horror of husbands."

  His teeth ground together, and his jaw clenched into a lump of iron. "I love you. I thought you loved me."

  "John, I adore you. And I know you worship me. That's why I won't risk ruining our love with marriage."

  "You are the most maddening creature who ever drew breath."

  "You forgot beautiful... the most maddening, beautiful creature." She threw back her head, and her laughter came rolling out.

  He flung himself away from her and began to throw on his clothes. "Get dressed. I'm taking you home. Perhaps Emma can talk some sense into your stubborn head."

  "No! I'm perfectly capable of riding home myself." She suddenly didn't want him to see Jamie. She fastened the buttons on her gown then defiantly tossed her disheveled hair over her shoulders. "Go to Argyll, John Campbell. Or go to hell!"

  "Not another bloody word, madam." His dark eyes glittered dangerously, and she did not dare flaunt his command.

  Elizabeth, astride her Border pony, could not pull ahead of Demon. Campbell kept pace with her, ignoring her icy disdain and the obvious displeasure at his company that she exuded. The hour was early, and she fervently hoped that Jamie would still be asleep.

  When they arrived at the castle, he turned their mounts over to a groom. Elizabeth could not argue, for that meant she would have to break her silence--and this she stubbornly refused to do. He followed her inside, totally indifferent to her rigid back. The only person abroad was Mr. Burke, who acknowledged a speaking look from Campbell by immediately withdrawing.

  John strode to the bottom of the stairs and bellowed, "Emma!"

  Elizabeth's heart sank. Even if Jamie had been asleep, the thundering male voice would have awakened him.

  Emm
a appeared immediately. As she descended the stairs, her keen glance assessed the agitated pair who had just arrived.

  "She refuses to marry me!"

  Emma continued down the stairs, her eyes focused on Elizabeth.

  "She spent the night in my bed, refusing me nothing, then threw my proposal back in my face." He could not conceal his outrage.

  Elizabeth gasped at the intimate secret he had revealed.

  "What? You think Emma doesn't know we spent the night together making passionate love? You think she doesn't know we slept together that weekend we disappeared from Chiswick? Emma might be discretion itself, but she doesn't wear bloody blinkers!"

  "Mamma, Mamma!" Jamie came running down the stairs only half dressed, with Nan on his heels carrying his shirt.

  Beth's heart jumped into her throat. She broke her furious silence. "Don't run! You'll fall!"

  The toddler stumbled three steps from the bottom and went sprawling. The joy of seeing his mother was greater than his hurt, and he held up his arms to her.

  "Now, see what you've done!" She rushed to her son and lifted him against her heart.

  John Campbell stood quietly with a stunned look on his face.

  Elizabeth's heart contracted.

  "I clearly see what _you_ have done." He turned to Emma. "When is Jamie's birthday?"

  Emma hesitated then replied, "The first of November, your lordship."

  "I thought he was a New Year's baby?"

  "That's when he was christened," Emma said quietly.

  Campbell firmly took the child from Elizabeth's arms and handed him to Nan, then he looked at Emma. "Leave us."

  When she was absolutely sure the women were out of earshot, Elizabeth bared her teeth like a vixen defending its kit. "A black mole means nothing! Thousands of people have them! His father was James Douglas, Duke of Hamilton. My son is the rightful Seventh Duke of Hamilton. Don't you dare to question it!"

  "He is _my_ son, the rightful heir to Argyll."

  "You are mistaken!" she said vehemently.

  "If he was born on the first of November he was conceived the night of Charlie's masquerade party, when I took you to Half-Moon Street."

  "_You are mistaken_!" she insisted again. "My baby was born prematurely after a rough carriage ride. On All Hallows Eve, Hamilton insisted his heir be born at Holyrood Palace. My labor began, and I gave birth the next morning. You are not his father!"

  "Stop lying to yourself. I _asked_ you to marry me earlier-- now I am _demanding_ that you do so. I intend to be a father to my own son, Elizabeth, even if you deny my paternity with your last breath."

  She dug in her heels, lifted her stubborn chin, and defied him. "I will never marry you, John Campbell. I hate you!"

  He leashed the violence he was feeling with an iron control and bowed stiffly. "If that's your last word, madam, I bid you good-bye."

  Elizabeth spent the entire day with Jamie. They took the dogs into the woods and gathered brilliantly colored leaves and acorns, laughing when the squirrels scampered up the trees to chatter their displeasure with twitching tails. Her gaiety was forced, but her relief was very real. Though John had discovered her secret and was angry as a bear with a sore arse because he could not bludgeon her into marriage, he had left. _It's over. I cannot deny that I love him, but I love my child more. Jamie will always come first_.

  At dinner that night, she allowed her son to stay up late. She stuck candles into the piece of birthday cake that was left and let him blow them out. Only when he began to yawn his head off did she put him to bed and kiss him good night.

  In her own bedchamber she sat down at her desk while Emma lit her lamps and closed her drapes. "If you have something to say, then say it," she challenged the faithful servant.

  Emma gave her a level look. "You are twenty years old, a woman grown, who knows right from wrong. You don't need my advice."

  Elizabeth slept badly for the next two nights, but gradually her apprehension left her. Her sexual cravings, however, were not as easy to banish. She picked up the invitation to the gala in Glasgow and thought of Tom Calder. He was an attractive Scot, without doubt, and more than half in love with her. Suddenly she began to laugh at the absurdity of Tom Calder assuaging her needs.

  Elizabeth packed her mauve evening gown in tissue and chose amethyst jewels to go with it. She was glad that mauve was an acceptable mourning color, for strictly speaking her first year as a widow was not quite over.

  Emma handed her the high-heeled dancing slippers. "Are you sure you won't need me in Glasgow tonight?"

  "I'm not sure at all, but I much prefer you stay with Jamie. I'll tell the coachman to have the carriage ready at dawn tomorrow. I promise to be home in time for breakfast."

  "What have you decided to wear for the ribbon-cutting ceremony?"

  "The gray velvet afternoon dress with the fox collar. I have a matching hat somewhere. I saw it a moment ago."

  "Uh-oh, I just saw Jamie in a gray hat. Where are you, Milado?" Emma rescued the chapeau but had to clean off the raspberry jam His Grace had smeared on the fur.

  Mr. Burke knocked on the door. "The carriage is ready, ma'am."

  "Oh, I'm not even dressed. Do give the coachman my apologies, Mr. Burke, and tell him I'll be down shortly." She handed him her luggage.

  She dressed quickly then went down on her knees, unmindful of her velvet, to hug Jamie. "Do exactly as Emma tells you, and I'll bring you a present. Good-bye darling. I'll see you at breakfast."

  The September afternoon was glorious as Lady Elizabeth Hamilton cut the green ribbon to mark the official opening of Calderpark Wildlife Preserve. It had been open to the public all summer, but today was the official ceremony, complete with Glasgow's dignitaries. Tom Calder, whom the park had been named after, beamed down at Elizabeth. "Would ye like a tour, Yer Grace?"

  "I'd love to see the polar bears, Tom, but I'll wait until I return in the spring for the full tour. By then my son will be old enough to hike with me to view all the animals."

  As she prepared to leave the park, happy that her polar bears were growing and flourishing, she noticed a man selling kites at the gate. They were fashioned after birds of prey--eagles, falcons, seahawks--and she knew she'd found her present for Jamie.

  That night at the gala Elizabeth danced every quadrille and schottische, every reel, rant, and Highland fling, reveling in the knowledge that she had selected her own gown and chosen to wear her own hair rather than a powdered wig. She responded freely to the gentlemen who flirted--and there were many, both single and married.

  She didn't fall into bed until three o'clock in the morning but was up again at five for the journey back to Cadzow. She curled up in the corner of the coach with closed eyes for the ten-mile drive.

  When the carriage pulled into the courtyard, she felt quite pleased with herself. At such an early hour, Jamie would still be abed. Clutching the kite, she slipped through the castle's front door and smugly noted that not even the servants were yet abroad.

  She tiptoed quietly into Jamie's bedchamber and was surprised to find his bed empty. _Oh, Lord, I hope the little devil hasn't taken total advantage of poor Emma_. She went into her own chamber to set down her parcel and remove her cloak, then she went along to Emma's room expecting to find Jamie sharing her bed. She found only Queenie, who looked at her mournfully; not even Dandy was about.

  "I can't believe they've gone for a walk and left you behind." Elizabeth rubbed the dog's head. "And I can't believe that son of mine got Emma up at such an ungodly hour!" She looked at Queenie. "I'd better let you out before you pee on the carpets. Come on, girl. Won't they be surprised when they come back and find I'm here for breakfast before they are!"

  When she arrived in the kitchen she told the cook that she was starving. "Where's Mr. Burke this fine morning?"

  "He left yesterday wi' t'others, Yer Grace."

  "What others?"

  "Miss Emma an' the wee duke."

  "My son, Jamie?"

  "Ay
e, didna Nan tell ye?"

  Elizabeth's brows drew together in consternation. She was getting nowhere with cook, so she hurried from the kitchen and went upstairs in search of Nan. The nursemaid was just leaving her room, but when she saw the duchess, she ducked back inside.

  Beth immediately followed her. "Nan, what on earth is going on? I can't find anyone, and cook said you'd tell me where they are."

  "They're gone." Nan looked stricken.

  For the first time icy-cold fingers clutched Beth's heart and began to squeeze. "Gone where? With whom?" she demanded.

  "Emma and Mr. Burke went off wi' the bairn in the carriage."

  Elizabeth's throat went dry. "Whose carriage?"

  "Colonel Campbell's carriage." Nan slipped an envelope from her pocket and wordlessly offered it to Elizabeth.

  She snatched it from Nan's fingers, tore it open, and blinked in utter disbelief at the words that met her eyes:

  Elizabeth:

  I have taken my son to Inveraray. He is in safe hands, so there is no need for alarm. I look forward to seeing you. We all eagerly await your arrival.

  John Campbell

  "You whoreson!" Elizabeth screamed. "Do not look forward to seeing me, John Campbell. It will be a battle to the death!" The coachman came upstairs with her luggage, and she met him on the landing. "Don't put the carriage away. We are going to Argyll." She went into her bedchamber to prepare for her journey. Elizabeth chose her clothes very carefully for her encounter.

  She selected gowns in dark powerful colors that would lend her authority and packed her most precious and regal jewels with which she would adorn herself. She took her sable cape from the wardrobe then reached up to the top shelf and took down the sword that her father had first taught her to wield when she was twelve.

  "_No need for alarm_? Think again, Lord Bloody Sundridge!"

  *Chapter Thirty-Five*

  It took two full days of travel to get to Inveraray, even though the coach set out at four in the morning on the second day. She bade her driver stop at an inn at the tip of Loch Fyne, less than five miles from Inveraray, where she took a room for a couple of hours so that she could change into an elegant gown and pin her hair in the latest fashion.