by Jane Feather
Greville caught her uncertainty; it was an almost palpable current in the air between them. He came over to her, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. “Do you have any plans for the next hour that you can’t put off?”
She looked up at him and saw the gleam of desire awaken in the dark eyes. And her body stirred in response. “No,” she said, touching her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. “Unless you have something we have to do.”
“I think I do,” he murmured, drawing her tightly against him, kissing her mouth at first gently, then with increasing pressure, his tongue darting between her lips as his hands gripped her bottom, pressing her hard against him.
Aurelia closed her eyes on the red mist of arousal, aware now only of the scent of his skin, the slightly rough texture of his chin and cheeks, the power of his body that seemed to engulf her, swallow her whole in his embrace.
He lifted her off the floor, holding her against him as he moved backwards to the door. For a second he set her on her feet, his mouth still dancing with hers, and reached behind him to turn the key. At the sound of the lock engaging, he raised his head and gazed down at her, his eyes filled with hungry passion.
“I have never had a woman who could fill me with such an intemperate need,” he murmured, one hand roughly unpinning her hair, the other still gripping her backside, pressing her to his loins. He lifted her against him again, moving backwards to the chaise beneath the window. He sat down, settling her astride his hips.
She half rose from his lap to yank up her skirt and petticoat, fumbling with the laces of her drawers as he unfastened his britches, then she lowered herself slowly onto the hard, erect shaft of pulsing flesh. She sank down, her thighs against his, feeling him buried deep within her, and bent to take his mouth with her own, glorying in the sensation of controlling the kiss, and the rhythm and speed of their movements.
Greville rested his head against the back of the chaise and followed her lead. She rose and fell upon him, never releasing his mouth as she drew his penis high inside her, then slowly released her grip, before taking him in again. Then she sat back on his thighs, her hands behind her, balancing herself on his knees, as she lifted herself slightly and moved her sex around the very tip of his flesh in a tantalizing circle, until he moaned and pulled her down hard against him.
Aurelia laughed with the sheer joy of it. She played him like a violin, as he had so often done for her, bringing him closer and closer to the climactic notes, then easing down gently. She didn’t know why she was glorying in this sense of control, but somewhere in the back of her head lurked the knowledge that she was in control in this partnership all too infrequently.
And then he raised his hips sharply, driving up inside her, and she was lost in sensation, riding him to her own climax. He held her hips, moving with her, watching her face, loving her as with a triumphant groan of completion she fell forward, her head resting on his shoulder, and his own orgasm pumped deep within her.
Greville held her against him as the world stopped spinning. But it didn’t quite stop spinning for him. He loved this woman. He had never allowed himself to acknowledge anything more than a deep liking and respect. But for a moment then he had felt she completed him. That without her, he was half-finished.
Colonel, Sir Greville Falconer was rarely alarmed, and when he was, it was by something he could see and deal with. This strange, amorphous feeling was not visible, and he knew no techniques to defeat it.
He opened his eyes and she raised her head from his shoulder. “That was good,” she said with a little sigh of satisfaction.
He held her head between his palms, running his fingers through the cascade of ringlets. “Oh, it was a lot more than that, my dear,” he murmured. “I would have described it as transcendent.”
Aurelia smiled as he drew her head down so that their mouths engaged once more. “So would I,” she whispered against his lips.
He held the kiss for a long time, relishing in the sensation of her sweetness, in his own presence, soft and now undemanding, still within her. Slowly his sense of being rudderless faded and he came back to himself. And to the realization that on this occasion he had neglected the one precaution he had always taken to prevent conception.
He patted her hip. “Lift up, now.”
Aurelia raised herself and stepped back, adjusting her clothes, letting her skirt and petticoat fall around her. She put her hand to her hair, which was tumbling in a tangle to her shoulders. “I had better go and put myself to rights.”
Greville stood up, fastening his britches. He caught her chin between finger and tip and kissed the tip of her nose. “When I’m with you sometimes, Aurelia, I lose touch with myself.” His smile was rather puzzled.
It was one of the most beautiful compliments she had ever been paid, Aurelia thought, her blood singing in her veins. Greville had always been a spontaneous lover, it was one of things she loved about him, but he rarely spoke spontaneously about emotions. “It’s a shared feeling,” she said softly. She unlocked the door and slipped from the room, feeling as if she couldn’t bear to disturb that moment, as if she wanted to leave it intact behind her.
But a minute later she opened the door again, reluctantly bringing domestic reality to break the spell. “Greville, there’s a note from Nell. She and Harry want us to go for dinner tonight with Alex. You will come, won’t you?”
He turned from the window to face her. “Of course. What time?”
“Eight o’clock.” She closed the door again and stood for a minute listening to the ticking of the long-case clock at the foot of the stairs. He was still wearing that surprised, disconcerted expression when he’d turned to face her when she’d opened the door. Quite unlike the colonel’s customary assurance.
Aurelia made her way upstairs to her bedchamber to repair the ravages of noontime loving in the library.
• • •
She awoke the next morning at light fingers patting her face.
“Mama…Mama…wake up.” Franny was sitting on the bed beside her, tapping her anxiously. “Mama, I need you to wake up.”
“And I am awake,” Aurelia said, coming instantly to life. “Why do you need me, love?”
“Because I want to take Lyra to Stevie’s house. He doesn’t believe I know how to tell her what to do, so I have to show him that I do.”
Aurelia sighed and prepared for battle. “Lyra isn’t a pet, sweetie. And she’s not going to want to spend all day in the schoolroom with you and Stevie and Susannah. She needs exercise.”
“We’ll take her to the park when we go out with Miss Alison,” Franny insisted. “We go an’ play in the park. We’ll take a ball an’ Stevie can see how she runs after it when I throw it. Oh, please, Mama, please.”
Sweet heaven, Aurelia thought. The last thing she wanted was a tussle with Franny first thing in the morning. However she girded her loins and sat up against the pillows.
“No, Franny, Lyra stays here with me. If you like, I’ll bring her this afternoon when I come to fetch you, and you and Stevie can play with her in Aunt Nell’s garden. But you cannot take her for the whole day.”
Franny’s lower lip wobbled. “But I want to show Stevie how she does what I say.”
“She doesn’t do what you say, Franny.”
The child spun towards the door, which had just opened. Greville stood there, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Yes, she does,” Franny insisted.
“No. Lyra only does what she knows is expected of her. If she runs after your ball or comes to heel when you call her, it’s not because you are telling her to do that, it’s because of her training. If you tell her to do something outside the commands she knows, then she won’t do it.”
Franny regarded him suspiciously, but also with a degree of interest. “So who told her what she should do?”
“Her trainer,” he said, coming into the room and sitting on the end of Aurelia’s bed. “A man who understands dogs. You’re not old enough yet, my child,
to train a dog. And Lyra is a working dog.”
“What’s that mean? Dogs don’t work.”
“Yes, they do. They herd sheep. They guard buildings, and sometimes they guard people.”
Franny’s eyes widened. “And which does Lyra do? We don’t have any sheep.”
“Then you have your answer,” Greville said, offering Aurelia his coffee cup.
She accepted gratefully, taking a revivifying sip. “So, you see, Franny, you can’t take Lyra from her work. She wouldn’t be happy.”
“Oh.” Franny slipped off the bed. “But you will come and fetch me this afternoon, and bring her so I can show Stevie.”
“Yes, love. Now go and find Daisy. I’ll come down in a few minutes and see you off.” Aurelia reached for her daughter and kissed her. Franny hugged her and raced off.
Aurelia leaned back against her pillows and took another sip of coffee as Franny left the bedchamber. “It’s good that you don’t talk down to her,” she observed.
“She’s a bright child…somewhat challenging at times, I grant you, but she’s quick-witted.” He went to the window and pulled back the curtains, letting in the soft sunshine of the May morning.
“Do you see anything of her father in her?”
Greville turned slowly from the window. “I’ve never been good at noticing physical resemblances between small children and their parents. I don’t see the point really. They are who they are.”
It was a flat statement, and Aurelia recognized that her question had come too close to those invisible boundaries that encircled him. She shrugged. “Maybe so, but it’s a conventional game people play as part of social intercourse. Parents like to be told their children resemble them in some way.”
“Well, never having had a child of my own, I wouldn’t appreciate the pleasure. But I did want to talk to you about Franny.”
“Oh?”
He frowned, pulling at his chin. He’d been trying to think how to broach this subject without alarming Aurelia. He wanted her to get close to Don Antonio, and he didn’t want her worrying about her child. He was certain he could protect the child, but it would be much easier to do if she was away from the scene of the intrigues in South Audley Street.
“What is it?” she said, disconcerted by his expression.
“I have been thinking that while you’re working with Vasquez, it might be better if Franny were to go somewhere else. Maybe to your friend in the country.”
She stared at him, saying quickly, “Why? Is she in danger?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so. But I’d rather neither of us was distracted at this delicate stage of the operation.”
“By neither of us, you mean me?” she said coldly.
“I suppose I do.”
“Yes, I hardly think you would permit yourself to be distracted by the needs and welfare of a six-year-old.” Aurelia’s eyes were cold and angry. “I’ll not be separated from my child. I told you at the very beginning that I would not have Franny involved in any way. Her life must continue as she knows it. How on earth would I explain why I have to send her away without frightening her?”
“It would be difficult, I agree,” he said, surprised that he was hurt by her accusation that he cared little for the child, but at the same time knowing that giving the success of their mission as his concern would keep Aurelia away from the true reason for his anxiety about her daughter.
“So, are you saying that I’m not playing my part properly because I’m distracted by my child’s needs?” she demanded, her face rather pale.
“No…no, I’m not saying that at all.” He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “It was a suggestion intended to lessen the burden on you, that’s all. I thought it might be easier on both of you if you had only one thing to concern you. Just until these early maneuvers are accomplished.”
“I appreciate your concern,” she said in the same icy tone. “But I assure you it’s unnecessary. I’m quite capable of doing both, and as I’ve told you once before, I won’t let you down.” She pushed aside the coverlet and stood up. “I have to get dressed and see Franny on her way to Mount Street.”
“Very well. I’ll leave you then.” He turned on his heel and returned to his own chamber.
Aurelia rang the bell for Hester and sat down at the dresser, pulling a brush through her tumbled hair. She was rarely angry, and if she really thought about it, she wasn’t sure why Greville had angered her so deeply. From one viewpoint he had merely expressed concern for her well-being. But that wasn’t what lay behind his suggestion. She knew him too well to believe that. His concern was for the success of his mission. He didn’t want her maternal cares to get in the way.
Well, she’d prove to him that there was no possibility of that happening. And then she remembered. She’d just promised Franny that she would bring Lyra to Mount Street at the end of the schoolroom day, but she was engaged to ride in the park with Don Antonio at five o’clock.
“Hell and the devil,” she exclaimed aloud just as Hester opened the door.
“Is summat the matter, mum?” the girl inquired anxiously.
“Not really,” she said, glancing over her shoulder towards the half-open door to Greville’s chamber.
She wasn’t surprised to see him standing there, leaning against the doorjamb, regarding her questioningly. Her voice had been loud enough to wake the dead.
He crooked a finger at her and she swore again, but this time to herself. “I’ll wear the striped muslin morning dress, Hester. Lay it out for me and I’ll be back in a moment.” She rose from the stool and followed Greville into his own room.
“What is it?” he asked as she drew the door shut behind her.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or scream,” she said, shaking her head in mortification. “I promised Franny I would take Lyra to Mount Street this afternoon, but I forgot I’d agreed to ride with the Spaniard at five.”
“I wondered how long it would be before you remembered.”
“Damn you, Greville. Are you telling me that when you heard me make that promise to Franny you remembered my engagement with the Spaniard?”
He nodded. “It’s my business to remember these details.”
“And it’s mine, too,” she said with a sigh. “And now you can crow all you like. You’ve proved your point…or rather I’ve proved it for you.”
“I have no intention of crowing,” he said mildly. “As I’ve said, you will have an escort on your ride this afternoon so Lyra’s presence won’t be necessary, particularly as it’s a very public venue at the most popular time, and you will ensure that you ride only on the tan in full view. I will take Lyra to Mount Street and fetch Franny myself this afternoon.”
She looked at him askance. “You’d be willing to do that?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s the nature of a partnership, dear girl.” Now he was smiling with just a hint of teasing amusement. “If there are conflicting needs, then if possible one partner helps out the other.”
“You are insufferable,” she declared, but she was laughing nevertheless. “You could have reminded me about the Spaniard at the time I promised Franny, so that I could have come up with something else to satisfy her, and you deliberately chose not to, just to prove the point you were about to make.”
He shook his head. “Believe that if you wish.”
She looked at him uncertainly. “Didn’t you?”
“No. To tell you the truth I didn’t make the connection until after we’d had words. Of course, I should have done so, so that was my error. I should have known what an opportunity you had given me.” He shook his head with a sorrowful air. “I must be losing my touch.”
“I’m not letting her go, Greville,” she said abruptly.
“No, you’ve made that clear.”
There seemed nothing else to say. “I’ll get dressed then.” She went to the door to her own room, pausing to say, “Thank you for the compromise, Greville.”
H
e bowed. “I am always the soul of compromise, ma’am.”
Chapter Twenty-one
AURELIA CHOSE THE MOST DASHING of her riding habits for her ride with Don Antonio. The close-fitting jacket and skirt of dark brown, corded velvet, fastened with braided buttons, made the most of her bosom while accentuating her small waist. She wore her hair in a knot confined in a netted snood at her nape beneath a tall hat, like a shako, ornamented with an ostrich feather dyed emerald green.
She drew on her matching green kid gloves, giving herself a critical once-over in the long mirror before going downstairs to await her cicisbeo. A public ride in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour could hold no unpleasant surprises, but she was glad to see Jemmy waiting by the door, dressed in his groom’s livery. She was to have more than one escort on this jaunt apparently. Greville was taking no chances.
“The ’orses are ready an’ waitin’, m’lady,” Jemmy said.
“Good. I’ll wait for Don Antonio in the salon.” She made her way to the drawing room and stood at the window, half-concealed behind the curtain, watching the street. Greville had already left for Mount Street with Lyra, and she felt strangely alone, even though plenty of people were in the house.
Don Antonio rode up on the dot of five, and to her relief she saw he was alone. There was no reason to be frightened of the man on this occasion. As long as she kept a cool head, acknowledged that he was the enemy, and remembered every conscious minute that she must never let down her guard, she would be quite safe. There would be someone discreetly following, someone presumably armed and ready for anything. It seemed melodramatic, but Aurelia was beginning to think that her life at present would fit well within the pages of a Gothic melodrama.
She went into the hall as the Spaniard dismounted, tethered his horse to the railing, and came up the steps to the front door. Jemmy opened it at the first knock and Aurelia went forward smiling. “Good afternoon, Don Antonio. It’s a beautiful day for a ride.”
