Some Enchanted Waltz, A Time Trave Romance

by Lily Silver

  Wave after wave of sweet, mind blowing pleasure crashed over her.

  Weak and sated, she sagged into the mattress, her body damp with glistening dew. She was smiling, grinning from ear to ear like an inebriated fool. She couldn’t help it. Her hidden lips were vibrating and tingling as her heart pounded a heavy metal drumbeat from the amplifier in her chest. “Yeah, you shook me all night long …”

  After moments of uninterrupted bliss, Tara opened her eyes to find Adrian with is chin propped on one elbow as he lay between her knees, patiently smiling at her.

  “And to think I’ve yet to remove my pants.” He whispered.

  His meaning came slowly as sated desire dulled her reasoning. Tara’s eyes widened as she lifted her head from the pillow. A scarlet flush crept up her neck as she took in his fully clothed form as he peeked up at her from between her naked thighs.

  “And now, I’ll leave you to your dreams.”

  “No—don’t go.” Tara burst out. “Not yet. We haven’t finished.” Tara took his hand as he edged up from his crouched position, not wanting to lose this sweet intimacy between them. “Stay. Let me pleasure you.”

  “Not tonight.” He looked like the devil standing there, smiling at her with that scoundrel’s grin. “Tonight is my gift to you, my fairy bride. Savor it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tara woke from a fitful sleep, if one could call it sleeping. Her mind conjured all sorts of carnal images of being in Adrian’s arms. She dreamed of being with him in a fairy bower, surrounded by glowing vines and climbing flowers. Adrian left her there on her mossy bed, unsatisfied, yearning for more of his magical touch. Tara awoke in fits and starts throughout the night to toss and turn in frustration at his retreat.

  With languorous movements, she slipped from the bed, hoping to catch Adrian before he had left his chamber and joined their hosts below. The maid assigned to her assisted her in dressing, and at Tara’s insistence, she left her hair down about her shoulders. Tara didn’t want to waste a moment as she hoped to find her husband alone and finish what he ignited within her the night before.

  A knock sounded on the door. Tara turned, her heart soaring with anticipation.

  “Good morning, Lady Tara.” It was Lady Anne, come to inquire as to her health.

  Disappointment crushed the sweet kindling of desire. Tara pasted a plastic smile on her face. “Good Morning, my lady.” She bobbed a curtsy and then remembered Adrian’s mother instructed her that she needn’t do so to those of a lower rank than herself. The Whites were recently raised to the barony making them lower in rank than Viscount Dillon and his wife. Tara found the rules and dictates tiring and somewhat ridiculous. She was certain when the situation presented itself where she should be bowing before a higher ranked peer she would forget and bring shame on her new family in her ignorance.

  “I do hope you are feeling better?” Lady Anne walked closer to her with a gentle smile. “I hoped to present you to society tonight at the ball.”

  “Yes. The herbal you gave me, and a good night’s rest made all the difference, Madame. Thank you.” Tara lied, feeling a little guilty for worrying the poor woman with her pretended illness. In truth she’d been too cowardly to dine with the aristocracy last night. Tonight, she’d just pluck up her courage and face them.

  “Fiona was worried. She’s still so fragile since losing Althea, you realize. She imagined you caught a chill and would be on your deathbed within a week. Poor dear. I’m afraid she’s indisposed this morning. I trust she will have recovered in time for the ball this evening.”

  Tara gave Lady Anne a sympathetic look.

  “I sent her to bed early, my lady.” The older woman added, aptly read Tara’s thoughts, judging by the shrewd expression in her lovely, dark eyes.

  She nodded. The woman was telling her in the most polite terms possible that her mother-in-law had a hangover. She only hoped Lady Fiona had not embarrassed Adrian last night with her behavior.

  “She didn’t linger overmuch in the parlor after dinner. There were few guests last night. The majority of them will be arriving today. I wanted to see you before all the bustle begins and make certain you will be up to the occasion. Tonight shall be your triumph. Consider it your wedding ball as well as a military ball given in honor of our new commander. Fiona was so disappointed that you were married in private. Of course, my lord’s reasoning was well understood, dearest, make no mistake. Fiona wants to show you off to the world so fiercely she forgets herself when it comes to what is desirable and what is reasonable under such tragic circumstances.”

  Tara smiled, this time the genuine article. Lady Fiona was quite fortunate to have such a loyal friend, given her mercurial moods. “You are very kind, Lady Anne.”

  “Fiona and I have a long association. We’ve been friends since we were girls dreaming of beaus and making our come out in society. Althea would have made her come out this spring, so the excitement of presenting you as the new Lady Dillon has given Fiona a new hope at her darkest time.”

  Tara sighed, unable to voice her misgivings at being presented at such a formal event. She wished she could quietly observe from a corner and not have the entire gathering staring at her as they announced her as Lady Dillon.

  “I have much to do, my dear. If you need anything, my staff will attend you.”

  I need my husband. Tara thought. “Adrian—Lord Dillon, is he still sleeping?”

  “Heavens, no.” Lady Anne gave a delicate laugh. “All the men were gone at first light. We arranged a small hunting party to entertain them while we ladies prepare ourselves for the evening.”

  “When will they be back?” Tara’s heart heavy at the thought of having to spend the day without him.

  “I’m afraid they will make a day of it. Once the hounds are loosed, they’ll be possessed with the hunt until that poor fox is cornered. Richard promised me they would be home before sundown, allowing plenty of time to bathe and dress for the ball. I shall keep him at his word. Now, my dear, if you will excuse me, I have guests arriving within the hour.” Lady Anne took her leave.

  The maid brought Tara a breakfast tray. Braised kidneys on toast were not her first choice for breakfast. She scraped the offensive little bundles off the toasted bread and made the best at eating it in spite of the odd taste. The eggs were quite good, a treat after eating the kidney tainted toast.

  The clock on the mantle seemed frozen as Tara waited for the men to return. She sat in the window seat and gazed wistfully out at the rolling hills and the forest beyond, hoping to capture the sight of her beloved returning to the mansion.

  Adrian returned at three o’clock. Tara rose from the windowseat where she’d spent most of her time daydreaming and drawing images of things remembered in her journal. Excitement filled her at his long awaited presence and a measure of uncomfortable shyness when she remembered their encounter last night. Adrian didn’t seem affected in the least by last night’s interlude. He threw his coat on the bed, removed his muddied boots while talking to her without looking at her, as if they’d been married for years instead of weeks. He surprised Tara by marching over to where she stood to give her a perfunctory peck on the cheek.

  “I ordered a bath.” He informed her. “They’ll be bringing it up straight away.”

  “Here?” Tara asked, confused by his proclamation.

  “Lady Anne has a shortage of rooms with a few added guests so I offered her mine. There is no reason for us to take up two rooms, is there?”

  She shook her head, wondering if he spoke the truth or merely used the influx of new guests as an excuse to install himself here with her. Either way, she didn’t mind.

  I’ve got big balls, I’ve got big balls … That annoying refrain surfaced in her mind, refusing to go away. It was the music of AC/DC again, haunting her mind with their gritty, heavy metal sexual commentary. It was a tongue in cheek song about balls being held for charity, pleasure and so forth, with the meaning of the term ‘balls’ being up to the listener�
��s interpretation. Why did she know this stuff? Where did it come from? It just sprang up in her mind, the words of a bizarre song she couldn’t forget and yet at the same time couldn’t recall. Tara blushed and looked away from him.

  “We are in agreement then.” Adrian murmured,

  “Whatever .” Tara mumbled, brushing her temples as the throbbing returned.

  “What is it?” Adrian’s hand captured hers. “Are you feeling ill?”

  “No. It’s just …” Tara shrugged, finding it difficult to explain. “Sometimes random images or words pop into my mind and I don’t know what to make of them.”

  “You remembered something.” Adrian lifted her chin so that she was looking up at him. The dark brows were knit together with concern. “Tell me.”

  Oh, God, no. Not telling him that one! “It’s nothing, some silly song; a phrase from a song that doesn’t make sense. I’m fine.” Tara leaned into him, pressing her face against his shoulder to hide her amused smirk. Adrian was rather well endowed, after all.

  The water boys appeared with their burdens and began filling the tub.

  “Did you have fun?” Tara asked as he began to disrobe in front of her. She sat by the window torn between shyness and a desire to touch the rippling muscles of his shoulders and biceps as she watched him step into the large tub and sit down.

  “I gained some amusement. Care to join me, little vixen?”

  Tara blushed, tempted yet knowing they had little time to dally before the ball.

  When next she chanced to look at him, he had removed himself from the tub and had one long leg propped on the edge of it as he carefully dried himself. The tangled mass of hair about his neck would need attention. She moved to the dressing table, picked up the tortoise shell brush and comb, and quietly moved behind him as he wrapped the towel about his waist.

  “You have a tangle. Let me help you.” She offered as he turned about with surprise. A satisfied smiled parted his lips as he took the seat at her dressing table and watched her from the mirror with those sultry grey eyes.

  Without a word, Tara gathered the damp mass in one hand and began smoothing it out with her fingertips before applying the brush.

  The silence enveloping them brought a strong undercurrent of desire. She could not resist temptation as the rugged arms and shoulders begged her touch. She found her right forefinger tracing down his shoulder to caress the dark hairs of his chest. His hand snaked up to capture her wrist.

  “I wish to have it loose tonight, to compliment my costume.” The silken voice intruded, bringing her back to her task.

  “And what would that be, my lord?” The soft strands of ebony were combed out until they shone beneath her fingers.

  “A pirate.” Supple fingers encircled her wrists as he smiled at her from the mirror. “Be warned, perhaps this night some gallant rogue will spirit you away to paradise.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise, my lord?”

  “Does my lady have a preference?” Adrian rose. His arms went about her waist, pulling her to him with fierce eyes.

  “I’ll have both.”

  They moved as one until their lips met and they were united in a surge of desire. Tara savored the taste of his mouth as it melted into her own, as the powerful fingertips traced up and down her spine, evoking a deep yearning to be pressed beneath him.

  “Adrian.” Tara whispered his name with reverence as his lips caressed her neck, leaving a trail with liquid fire. She could feel his arousal beneath the thin muslin gown as he crushed her hard against him.

  “I thought the emeralds would…” Lady Fiona’s voice broke the spell between them as she marched into the room without knocking. Tara gasped, intending to break away from Adrian’s embrace as she spun about with surprise. Adrian wrapped his arms about her waist, pulling Tara tight against his towel-clad body, deftly hiding his arousal from his mother’s steely regard.

  Tara wished she could melt into the carpet as the black taffeta clad woman stared at them with assessing grey eyes. Married or not, there was something quite mortifying at being happened upon in a moment of scorching desire by your seducer’s mother.

  To make matters worse, Adrian appeared to be the only one of the trio who was not disturbed. In the split second in which the two women stared at each other in horrified silence, he gestured to the black mourning gown Lady Fiona was wearing, “Tell me you are not wearing that tonight, unless you intend to go as the Grim Reaper.”

  “Since when do you give a fig for what I wear?” Lady Fiona snapped, her face returning to its normal coloration as his distraction worked on her vanity.

  “We are presenting my bride to the peerage. I hardly think mourning attire is appropriate.”

  “I thought these emeralds would suit her tonight, they will compliment the gown she is wearing.” She opened the jewelry case to display a heavy necklace studded with emeralds, with teardrop earrings to match.

  While Tara gazed at them with wide eyes, Adrian reached for the box, holding her tight against him with the other arm. His mother surrendered the opened case to him. Adrian held it before them for Tara to admire.

  “You may keep them.” Lady Fiona remarked as Tara gasped with delight. “They were given to me by Adrian’s grandmother when I became Lady Dillon. Tis a great comfort to find that the successive generation of the Dillon family is being earnestly established.”

  As Tara raised her eyes to offer thanks, she felt the stinging sarcasm of her mother-in-law’s words. Before she knew it, she was blushing to the roots of her hair under the steady gaze of Fiona Dillon.

  “And you just happened to have these packed and ready for the occasion.” Adrian quipped, sensing Tara’s discomfort. He was a master at games of wit, an accomplished swordsman deflecting a mortal thrust with practiced grace.

  “No, I had them removed from the safety deposit box at the bank while we were in Cork. Jasper delivered them to me at Lady Blakely’s. I’d forgotten about them until we purchased the gowns at Madame Beaumont’s establishment.” The steel eyes moved to her son with stiff reproof. “I’ll be back when you’ve made yourself decent. We’ve much to do to prepare Tara for this evening.” She walked rigidly out of the door, leaving her mantle of frost behind to quell the sparks igniting between the couple.

  Tara bolted from him as soon as the door closed, before he could resume their place before his mother’s intrusion. In response, he gave a weary sigh, turning his attentions to his costume for the ball.

  That woman could kill springtime with a single word. Tara thought and then smiled as she realized the perfect costume for Lady Fiona; The Frost Queen. A silver gown with a few diamonds and some glitter on her skin and she could freeze the entire assemblage with her icy demeanor.

  Adrian sucked in his breath to contain a gasp, entranced by the vision before him as he returned to their chamber. His mother and Lady Anne’s maid had transformed his lovely wife into an alluring enchantress sure to beguile every male in the ballroom.

  “Ethereal, is she not?” His mother beamed. “A fairy princess washed up on the shores of her beloved, just like Deidre of the Sorrows.”

  “Bewitching.” Adrian agreed, finding words difficult. Tara was stunning, a true fairy queen who chanced to cross over into his realm. That gown she’d chosen was straight out of his fantasies, where she’d danced before him in her true state, seducing him, beguiling him to lay with her in the mossy bed of the forest. Her hair was swept up into a shimmering cascade of burnished copper curls that danced along her temples and down the white column of her neck. A wreath of silk leaves graced her head, holding her curls in place, and the emeralds dangling from her ears and throat glittered in the lowering sunlight. They were perfect for Tara, matching her emerald eyes.

  He moved closer, unable to pull his eyes from this beguiling vision. The soft folds of the forest green hugged her trim body, emphasizing her gentle curves. The fine, transparent netting material held in place with wire looked like gossamer fairy wings sprouting fro
m her back, the same material made from the sheer sleeves. All Tara lacked was a scepter with which to command her sprites and elves to do her bidding.

  “You aren’t dressed, milord.” Her royal majesty smiled. “I’ve a date with a ferocious pirate. Where is he? He promised to abduct me and take me to paradise.”

  “I must prepare myself.” His mother quipped. “Lady Anne has a costume for me.”

  “The Grim Reaper’s wife?” Adrian couldn’t restrain himself. “Mrs. Hades?”

  Mother sniffed, ignoring his jest. “I shall meet you downstairs in one hour. Now mind that dress while I’m out. Not one hair out of place, young man. Remember, she is to be presented to Sir Ambercromby.” Mother scolded, her meaning clear.

  Adrian made a low bow. “As you wish, Madame.” Once his mother left them he changed quickly into his pirate attire. He was looking forward to the conclusion of this evening. He would have Tara in his bed at last. He was confident after last night’s interlude his goal would finally be reached. Tara would be his completely.

  Tara seemed pleased by his costume. He planned to wear his hair unbound. Tara teased it out for him to give it more volume. She added a thin braid one side of his head, and began adding bits of jewelry and beads to a braid on the other side. Adrian frowned at his reflection. He thought the beads and jewelry in his hair was a tad too feminine for a pirate, and yet, it was clear Tara liked the effect. She said it made him look like Captain Jack Sparrow, someone she apparently knew in her old life. The way her eyes lit up when she spoke of this fellow, Adrian couldn’t help feeling jealous of the blighter. Apparently his wife found the man vastly appealing.

  Once his hairstyle was complete Tara asked if he had a dark red scarf that she might tie about his head. He didn’t. Undaunted, Tara searched her trunk and found a red silk shawl. She folded it precisely and tied about his head, making him look like a gypsy instead of a pirate. He donned a patch over one eye. Tara removed it, saying it spoiled the effect. With a scabbard hung over the bottle green frock coat he’d borrowed from an earlier decade and thigh high top boots, his costume was complete.