Bess's mother and Marcella offered the earl their condolences and politely withdrew. Bess ordered dinner be served in her private sitting room, then she took him directly upstairs. The moment the door closed, he reached for her.
“No, Shrew.”
“Why the devil not?”
“We have to get something clear. Please sit down. This is difficult for me to say, Shrew; please try not to interrupt me.”
He folded his long length in a leather chair and waited.
“I've been avoiding you because your status has changed. You are now a widower, and I want to make it clear from the outset that I won't marry you.” She saw him slant an eyebrow at her but was relieved when he did not interrupt.
“I know that you covet the land I own in Sherwood Forest, and I know you would love to own Chatsworth. I'm fully aware of the benefits you'd reap from a business merger between us. Our land runs together and would not need to be managed separately, but for the first time in my life, I have a considerable income and no debts to speak of. I am a wealthy widow who has already received two proposals of marriage, so I don't want another one from you.”
“Who the devil—” His words were cut short by the appearance of a footman who brought their dinner.
Bess hid her amusement at the perfect timing of the interruption. “We'll serve ourselves. That will be all,” she instructed the footman, who bowed and withdrew.
“Don't ask me who the proposals came from. I don't want you to get angry—you are far too possessive of me as it is.” She indicated the food. “Come and eat before it gets cold.”
He came up out of the chair and took two long strides, swallowing the distance that separated them. “To hell with the food. Was it John Thynne?” he demanded.
“No, it wasn't Sir John, though his correspondence hints at it.” She smiled up at him and laid her hand upon his cheek. “It doesn't matter who it was, for you have all my heart.”
He groaned and enfolded her in his arms. “Bess, Bess, don't do this to me—you know I've loved you forever. I don't want your lands, I just want you.”
Men want what they cannot have, Bess reminded herself sternly, and will move heaven and earth to get it—I devoutly hope, she added, crossing her fingers. “Darling,” she whispered her first real endearment to him, “if you start kissing me, we'll never get to the food. We won't often be able to dine so intimately; let's enjoy it while we have the chance.” Bess knew that while they talked and ate, she had a small measure of control, but once he started to make love to her, all her control would be swept away by his passion.
Beneath the silver covers were a brace of plump partridge crisped in wine, followed by a venison pasty, redolent with leeks and herbs. She served him a hearty helping of each and poured them wine. She was acutely aware of his gaze, which never left her face. “For all the notice you are taking of your food, I could have served sheep brains.”
“I'm starving for you; all I can taste is breast.” He threw down his napkin and moved around the table. Then he lifted her up and slid beneath her.
“I'm not finished,” she protested breathlessly as the heat from his thighs seeped up through the material of her gown.
“I'm not started.” He lifted her hair from the nape of her neck and set his lips to it. He was already full and hard, but when he felt his cock throb with every heartbeat, he began to lick and suck her neck, unable to resist a passionate love bite.
Bess gasped as his hands came up beneath her breasts and cupped them possessively, loving the exquisite sensations he aroused as she felt her nipples harden with desire. “Darling, there's no need for haste. I want you to stay all night.” She knew her words inflamed him, for his hands slid from her breasts to lift her skirts and stroke her naked thighs above her gartered stockings.
“I've waited an eternity to hear those words from your lips.” The food was forgotten as his fingers stroked her. His hungry mouth took possession of hers, and as his insistent tongue slid inside, he thrust a long finger inside her sheath and thrust deeply, rhythmically. The way her sugared walls closed over his finger told him her body responded instantly, hungrily, to his foreplay, and he thanked God for this woman whose passion matched his own.
She clung to him as he brought her to shuddering climax with his fingers and knew this was just a foretaste of the dark velvet pleasuring he would give her this night. She felt his impatient hands on the fastenings of her gown and knew that any moment he would rip it from her in his haste.
She slipped from his knee and smiled as he protested. “I want to undress for you. Curb your impatience and watch me. It gives me unbelievable pleasure to see the desire blaze up in your eyes when you look at my body.”
The intense, hard look on his face thrilled her as she moved about the chamber, drawing the heavy brocade drapes across every window. Next she lit a long taper and set ablaze the dozens of candles in ornate silver candelabra. Then, very slowly, with sensuous deliberation, she unfastened the sedate gray silk gown and let it slither in a pool about her feet.
The impact of her tangerine undergarments made him draw in a swift breath of appreciation. Her clothes matched her personality perfectly tonight. Beneath her serene exterior lay a riot of flagrantly shocking color that revealed her passionate sexuality. Then, beneath that, he suspected there were dark erotic layers whose depths had never yet been plumbed.
She slowly stepped out of her petticoat, and as she flung it away, it flashed an arc of brilliant color across the candlelit chamber. She stood before him now, her sinuous body clad only in a short shift and black lace stockings. As she inched the shift up her thighs, she uncovered startling tangerine garters that held up her black stockings , but even more arresting was the riot of red-gold curls that covered her high mons.
Bess slowly licked her lips in a deliberately provocative gesture as she paused for a full minute before lifting off her shift to reveal her breasts. She knew the arousing effect they had on him and knew the wait would heighten his anticipation.
He looked his fill, in a growing agony of need but thoroughly enjoying the splendid show Bess put on for him. Her body was so lush, it spoke a language of its own, crying out to be mated often, and mated well. And it promised untold rewards for the man bold enough to accept the challenge of arousing and satisfying the towering passion she had held in check for so long.
“You make the most beautiful mistress any man could wish for in his wildest dreams.”
“Shrew, I don't want to be your mistress. That's a demeaning position where a man pays a woman for sexual favors and only a small step up from being a whore. I want us to be lovers, equal in every way and completely free in every way. Promise?”
He was ready to promise her anything and give her the earth as well. He stripped off his clothes in a fever of need and tossed them away impatiently as he stalked his prey. He gathered her up and lifted her onto his engorged phallus. He did not need to tell her to wrap her legs about his back. He could feel the texture of the black lace stockings against his skin, as well as the heated flesh of her naked thighs where the stockings left off. The contrast was so erotically arousing, he plunged up into her with a savage thrust and felt her nails claw his back. Her velvet sheath lured him deeper, and, unable to remain standing a moment longer, he took her to the floor so that he could bury himself all the way inside her. She felt like scalding honey, and his balls tightened so pleasurably, he growled deep in his throat like a wolf with its mate.
It was such a swift, dominant possession, Bess writhed beneath his big powerful body, relishing the fierce hunger he unleashed as he pounded into her, holding nothing back, like a rampant male animal. The mating became ferocious, with both of them making fierce demands upon each other. Bess loved the things he did to her, loved his hard hands on her body and the way they made her feel. He knew how to arouse her passion to madness. Her sheath gripped him convulsively as he buried his maleness inside her, harder and deeper with every savage plunge.
When her
moans turned to gasps and a scream began to build in her throat, her lover took possession of her mouth, taking her love cries into himself, muffling her vocal response to keep them private from any who might be awakened by their passionate coupling. He felt her first flutters, knowing she was building to orgasm, and timed his climax accordingly. They spent together in an explosion that robbed them of breath and coherent thought. Then they collapsed together, his great weight pinning her to the floor as she sprawled beneath him in wanton abandon.
Shrew withdrew his weight and sat back on his heels. “That was spectacular, my love, and well worth the wait.” He stroked her breasts, softening now with surfeit. “Your body is so lush, I want to watch you walking about without your clothes.”
When Bess hesitated, he said, “Surely, you're not shy with me?”
“No, love. Your anointing was so thorough, I'm full of you.”
He laughed. “I'm sorry—it's been so long.” He picked up her goblet of wine and a clean napkin. “Open for me, beauty.” He dipped in the linen and watched with avid eyes as she let her knees fall apart, then arched her mons for him. She shuddered as he laved her in wine, then dabbed her dry. “Let me carry you to bed.”
“I thought you wanted to watch me walk.”
“Later—the wine has given me other ideas.” He lifted her high against his heart and carried her through to the adjoining chamber. He laid her on the bed and, lifting one of her legs, removed the black lace stocking with its bright garter. Then he lifted her other leg and did the same. He kissed her bare toes, then drew the tip of his tongue along the high arch of her sole. “First, I want to watch you writhe again.”
Bess drew in a swift breath, knowing where his tongue would lead. She was not disappointed, though he teased her unmercifully with the length of time it took to reach his goal. But once he did, she couldn't believe how quickly he was able to arouse her again. As she watched his dark head moving between her legs and felt the thrusts of his powerful tongue, the intimacy of the act drove her wild. When her climax came, it was so hard and fast she arched high off the bed, thrusting her mons against his hungry mouth. When he withdrew his tongue and covered the inside of her thighs with kisses, she thought her very bones would melt. When she could speak again, she said, “That felt so lovely, I want to do it to you. Get the wine; I want to drive you wild.”
Shrewsbury came up out of a deep sleep and his pulses began to race the moment he knew whose bed he occupied, whose woman's scent enveloped him, and whose lips brushed against his. To be awakened by a kiss from Bess was a fantasy he'd indulged in for years. His cock began to fill, and he reached for her with joy. “Sweetheart, I'll never have enough of you.”
Bess laughed softly. “Darling, that's very flattering, but I woke you because it's four o'clock. You must go now.”
He groaned as her words rubbed harshly against the grain of what he wished to do. “I can't leave you,” he protested stubbornly.
“You must. Though I am mistress of Chatsworth, I don't believe I can allow you to tuck your long legs beneath the breakfast table across from my mother and Marcella.”
He groaned again, realizing the truth of her words. Their liaison must be kept secret to guard her good name and to protect the children. Reluctantly, he swung his legs from the bed as Bess lit the bedside candles. His eyes began to search out his clothes, scattered in haste across the chamber, but his gaze was drawn back to the woman on the bed. She reached for her bedgown, and he watched her cover her beautiful breasts and shoulders. “If I had my way, I'd never let you get dressed again. I'd keep you naked in a locked chamber whose only furnishing was a bed.”
Bess smiled. “A lavish compliment indeed. Now I'll give you one.” She came around to his side of the bed and sank to the carpet between his naked thighs. “For the first time in years, perhaps for the first time in my life, I feel replete. I enjoy matching you in sensuality. Your body has the ability to satisfy mine, as you always promised me it would, and I thank God for it.”
He cupped her face between his hands. There were so many things he wanted to say, but there was no time. “You are a part of me. When can I come again?”
“Darling, you cannot. June arrives with the dawn. My sons are finished college; they will be home any day. They are far too old and wise for us to pull the wool over their eyes.”
“Hell and damnation!” he swore, searching his brain for a solution to his dilemma. He could feel her lush breasts brush against his testes and he wanted to hold her forever. “I'll make Rufford or Worksop a safe haven for us. I'll send you a note.”
As Shrewsbury rode home in utter frustration, his thoughts were obsessed by the woman he had just left. She might be replete, but he was not, and strangely it had little to do with sex. Making love with Bess most of the night had certainly left him sated, but at this moment he was more dissatisfied than he'd ever been in his life. He wanted to be with her morning, noon, and night. He wanted to talk with her, make her laugh, ride over their acres together, eat with her, bathe with her. He wanted her to share his houses, share his children, share his life. He wanted to carry her to bed every night and wake up every morning with her beside him.
He longed to cover her with jewels, swathe her in fur, and shout to the world that she was his and his alone. He wanted to possess her, body and soul, and he knew he would not know a moment's peace until she fully committed to him and vowed her eternal love. A foul oath fell from Shrewsbury's lips. All Bess wanted was her bloody freedom! She had made him promise they would be lovers and nothing more.
His knees gripped his stallion's belly and his resolve hardened. She thought she could wrap him about her little finger. She had extracted the promise so she would be free to leave him any time she chose, and in a vulnerable moment he had given his word. Well, some promises were made to be broken, and this was one of them. Freedom was the last thing he'd let her have. He would mount a relentless campaign and force her to yield to his wishes. He would be satisfied with nothing less than complete and unconditional surrender.
THIRTY-SIX
Bess was well aware that George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, was more than a match for her. If anyone in the world had a stronger will than she, it was Shrewsbury. He was so dominant, he even imposed his wishes on Elizabeth Tudor when the mood took him.
At the moment Bess knew that Shrewsbury was in thrall with her, but she also realized that he wouldn't let her have her own way for long. If she wanted that wedding ring on her finger, she would have to plan her strategy with cunning. He had been trapped in a loveless marriage most of his life, and now that he was at last free, it would take extremely clever maneuvering to get him to put his neck in the noose again.
Bess acknowledged that if Shrewsbury had not suddenly become a widower, she would have been more than content to be secret lovers for the rest of their lives. Wild horses could not have dragged her into a fourth marriage; she was far too ambitious for her children to pour the wealth she had accumulated into a husband's coffers. But Shrewsbury was different. He was the wealthiest and most powerful peer in the land, with eight principal houses and castles, in addition to the ones in London and at Chelsea on the riverside. He owned vast tracts of land in five counties and was lord lieutenant of three of them. He was also her heart's desire.
Bess asked herself, what was the irresistible lure that attracted her? Was it the man himself, his wealth, his houses, his power, or his noble title? She was honest enough to admit that she was in love with all of these things. He represented the greatest challenge of her life. Not only did she want him with all her heart, she needed him to love her enough to make her Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury.
He sent her a gift of rubies. It was an exquisite brooch in the shape of a crescent moon. Bess smiled her secret smile and pinned it to her gown so that it curved provocatively about one of her nipples. Two days later Bess received his note inviting her to meet him at Worksop Manor. She blithely ignored it. A second note arrived, furiously demanding why she
had not kept their rendezvous. She sent a very sweet reply explaining that his invitation had come too late for her to change her plans.
He wrote again, giving her the time and place for their next tryst, and Bess read his towering impatience between the lines. Though she longed to go to him, Bess was determined to listen to her head and not her heart. She wrote back and explained that her sons had just arrived home and that it would be impossible for her to get away.
His next letter was not an invitation, it was an ultimatum. He threatened that if she did not come to him at Worksop, he would come to her, no matter the consequences. The next day Bess arrived at Sheffield on horseback with all three of her daughters in tow. Shrewsbury greeted her with formality, his blue eyes blazing his anger at the games she was playing.
Bess hid her amusement. “It was such a beautiful day for a ride. June is such a lovely month, don't you think?”
“Too lovely to waste,” he said pointedly. “It's almost over!”
Her heart hammered at the sight of him, and she was thrilled to the core that he could not hide his frustration. “My daughters wanted to visit yours, and of course Francie and Anne Herbert have been friends all their lives. Since they are both newlyweds, they will have much to talk about.”
“My son and Anne may be married, but they have separate households here at Sheffield until they become old enough to cohabit,” he said repressively.
“Shrew, they are mad in love. 'Tis cruel to keep them apart. Still, they do say abstinence builds character.” She watched the muscle in his jaw clench like a lump of iron.
Bess saw Grace peeping over the banister of the ornate staircase and called to her gaily, “Don't be shy, darling. We've come especially to see you.”
Grace ran down the stairs and Bess caught her and swung her around in the air. “Don't you ever slide down the banister? That's what I love to do.”
Grace looked at her father's forbidding face and said, “We're not allowed to.”
A Woman of Passion Page 40
