by Robyn Carr
Vieve roused herself briefly to bid Doré good night, and when he had departed their coach she turned eyes up to Tyson. “You have changed somehow. What is different?”
He gently squeezed her shoulders. “I had a problem that I had been wrestling with. Today, by some miracle, it was removed.”
“My uncle?” she asked. He looked at her with a question in his eyes. “I have known since the day we left Chappington, Tyson. My father took me aside early that morning and told me what burdens he had thrust upon you. I don’t know many of the details, but I know that Uncle Charles has been trying to ruin my father, and you have been assigned to the task of stopping him.”
“You have known all this time?”
She nodded. “My father suggested that I leave the matter to you.”
“Why did he tell you at all?”
“He wanted me to know what grudge you felt against our family. And if I wished to remain with him in Chappington Hall, he would support that decision.”
The coach stopped in front of the London brownstone. “But you came with me.”
“It is my place,” she said very softly. “With you.”
She saw the change in his eyes as the gray darkened to a deep and smoldering charcoal. His arm tightened around her shoulder, and he lifted her chin with a finger, gently touching her lips and then tracing them with the point of his tongue. Then his mouth was on hers, searing in its heat, searching, demanding. She felt the beat of his heart against her breast and heard his rapid breathing. When he released her mouth, she was breathless. “Tyson,” she beckoned. “The coach has stopped.”
He sighed heavily, released her, and opened the coach door. He lifted her down and took her through the open door and up the stairs. Halfway up she paused, stopping him. “Tyson, please wait a moment. There is something I must tell you.”
“It can wait, Vieve. Come.”
“No, Tyson, this cannot wait a moment longer. I am sorry that my father used his advantage against you, and I did not enter into his plan with him, but please understand that I love him the same. He is not dishonest, only desperate.”
He nodded, and the soft glow in his eyes was warm and understanding. He continued up the stairs and stopped at the top. He held open the door to his bedchamber. The room was dimly lit, the fire burned low. He looked back into her eyes. “I love you,” he said softly. “I have not touched another woman since that day in the old keep. It is only you I want.”
Tears came to her eyes, but she smiled. She touched a finger to his lips. “Will you stoke the fire, my love?”
Without waiting for an answer, she walked past him into the room. This was the moment she had waited for, and though a shiver of apprehension ran up her spine, her body quivered with passion’s promise. She stood to the side of the hearth while he removed his coat and lay fresh logs on the fire.
She felt as though she had waited her whole life to feel his hands on her again. Though she knew little about lovemaking, she thought she knew her husband now. And she was determined that he would not be disappointed.
He rose and came toward her, but she put a hand against his chest to stop him. She smiled sweetly, and before his questioning gaze she began to slowly unfasten the tiny buttons that ran from her throat to her waist. She spread the gown over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor at her feet. Wearing only her sheer shift, she carefully unfastened her hair, tossing the pins and ribbons into the hearth fire, letting her tresses fall freely down her back. She kicked off her shoes, unfastened her garters, and drew off her stockings, still holding his burning gaze with hers.
She approached him, rising on her toes to plant loving kisses on his lips as her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt. His arms encircled her, and she felt his action to remove his cuff links, which quickly joined the other discarded articles on the floor. She pushed his shirt over his shoulders and caressed his muscled chest with eager fingers.
“Vieve,” he whispered. “I have wanted you so, I have hungered for you.”
“You shall wait no longer, my love. I, too, have been pained with this wanting.”
His lips found her shoulder, and her shift shortly joined the heap of cumbersome garments. Her naked breasts against his warm chest stirred her passions, and she gave herself to his deep kiss. She opened her lips to his searching tongue, straining against him, her fingertips moving boldly over his body. “Let there be no doubt, my darling... I love you,” she whispered. “I love you with my whole being.”
He held her away from himself so that he could look at her shimmering nakedness against the firelight. His eyes gleamed as he filled himself with the vision of her beauty. “You concealed yourself from me for too long, my love. Now I shall finally see all of you.” With a slow sweep his hand moved from her shoulder, over her breast, down her slim waist, over her firm thigh. “My God, you are beautiful.”
She bit her lower lip, trembling inside from the pleasure of his hands on her bare flesh. Her fingertips found the buttons on his trousers. “Do you still find me wanton, m’lord?”
“I pray for it,” he returned as her fingers worked the fastenings loose. “Give me all. Hold nothing from me. I must have all of you. Nothing less will satisfy.”
His trousers and shoes disappeared, and he felt her small, quivering hands on his narrow hips. “I am yours, Tyson, as I have always been. There is not a corner of my body, my mind, or my heart that I would withhold from you.”
With a gasp of longing, he pulled her hard against him. They stood before the brightly burning hearth, their lips desperately locked together, while with curious fingers they discovered every detail of each other’s naked flesh. His muscled body grew taut and hardened under her gentle touch, and her soft skin shivered with delight. He bent his head to trace a line with his lips from her neck to her breast, teasing an erect nipple with his tongue. Vieve brazenly closed her hand around the bold and ready manhood that had robbed her of her virginity and sighed in awe at the heat and power she felt.
Tyson’s mind whirled in ecstasy with her touch, and he lifted her into his arms, so eager for her that he only took one step backward to the chair, bringing her soft bottom to rest on his thighs. His lips at her breast, his arm holding her firmly on his lap, his experienced fingers made a feast of her, and he dined on her slowly, until her sighs of pleasure turned to gasps of desire.
Though Vieve might have expected to be invited to the nearest bed, Tyson’s creative move seemed almost natural to her. It was easy to place herself within his power and allow him to instruct her. His lips and fingers quickly lay to rest any fear, modesty, or resistance. Her arms embraced him, her fingers locked into the thick hair at the base of his neck, feeling the hardness beneath her as he urged his way into her. Her thighs opened easily to his hand, and he lifted her but a little, filling her with all his power and heat.
Vieve gasped at the sensation. An ember of ecstasy was touched deep inside of her, and it grew until small sparks of delight traveled through her body, promising an explosion of rapture. Through widened eyes she saw the tightened features of her husband’s face, eyes tightly closed, small beads of perspiration standing out on his brow. With a sigh of longing, she embraced him tightly, holding his head against her breast. Her hips moved naturally to the rhythm he paced with a firm hand on her hip.
Tyson buried his face in her full bosom, feeling every muscle in his body ache with the control he employed to bring her the full score of pleasure before claiming his own. He commanded his body to please hers, his movements subject to her needs, so that he quickened his thrusts with her writhing demands until he heard his name on her lips in a startled cry that declared her pinnacle of pleasure was met.
“Tyson.”
With a deep moan of penetrating joy, he released himself from his own torment to match her rapture. And he had never before in his life felt anything to compare to it.
Their bliss melted around them, leaving their bodies glazed in a damp mist. Vieve’s head lay contentedly o
n his shoulder, her hair falling down his arm like a shawl. She was limp in the aftermath of pleasure’s peak, and his hand gently caressed her back as she slowly roused.
Her lips gently nibbled his ear. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
A light, low chuckle escaped him. “What I just felt from you, my sweet, bears more credence than words could.” He softly kissed her lips. “Willingness and acquiescence I prayed for, but had I known how completely you would give yourself to me, I could not have waited as I have.”
“And had I known the full reward that you denied me, you would not have escaped your obligations so easily.”
He held her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I cannot remove those days when I mistreated you, much to my regret. I see now that I have loved you from the beginning. You are my heart and my life, Vieve. That will never change. I love only you, and I need your love in return...for all time.”
“All of me,” she whispered. “Forever.”
With a sigh of reluctance, he lifted her in his arms and carried her gently to the bed. He braced a knee on the bed, looking down at her, and smiled roguishly. “We have yet to make love in a bed,” he said with a shrug. “Does it sit ill with you that my hunger for you comes before all other considerations?”
She locked her arms around his neck and drew him down to her. “It may prove inconvenient for the servants, my darling, but I shall try my very best to endure your whims.”
Chapter Eleven
Vieve soon understood all the elaborate scheming required to trick Charles Latimer. Tyson was quick and detailed in his explanation of that situation. Tyson worked from a variety of angles to subdue the crafty merchant, and by the time he was finished, Charles would be both financially wounded and facing harsh evidence against him. From such a position, even Charles would find a further fight impossible.
They hoped that through Tyson’s plan Charles would be forced to admit his guilt, return certain properties acquired dishonestly, provide restitution for damages, and swear in a written confession to desist in meddling with the baron’s estate. But there was another possibility. Charles could be pushed into some desperate criminal action—and would be caught. While Tyson preferred the first outcome, he was prepared for the second.
When Tyson told Vieve about Lenore and the duel in which he had thought Michael Everly was killed, she finally understood the initial anger she had met in him.
“Oh, Tyson, when you discovered my father’s need for money and my virginity, you must have been wild with suspicion. If only I had known...”
“The knowledge of your family’s need and your submission to my desires was not nearly so disruptive as the violence I felt at the very thought of anyone but me touching you. It was my own deep need for you that most confused me. I wanted you for my own so desperately that I was outraged by that crippling emotion. I saw only my choices gone and failed to see the determination with which I chose you. Had you not yielded, married me, and by your special methods, tied me, I might still be sitting on shipboard alone, my head spinning in fear and confusion.”
“You mock me. I cannot imagine you being afraid of anything.”
“Oh, madam,” he sighed. “What I feel for you is so strong and deep it can terrify the bravest man. When you took my heart, held it within your tender nurturing, you made it impossible for me to take it back. Now...I cannot live without you. Such is the plight,” he tenderly explained, “of a man who has taken so long to know real love.”
With the dialogue finally open between them, she could send Tyson off to his duties with a good feeling in her heart and welcome him home again, eager for his presence.
Tyson damned the presence of such conspiracies, for he swore he would be content to live somewhat retired now that his amorous wife made her demands. Yet, business of the most delicate nature kept him active outside of their London house, and when nightfall came and he had returned, Vieve used all her energy and imagination to show him how determined she was that they would always share a common bed.
Vieve’s knowledge of Tyson’s plans was still relatively new when her Aunt Elizabeth surprised her by calling on her. It was only a week before Christmas, and for once Elizabeth was not accompanied by her daughters.
“I realize that my husband and your father have had a falling out, but my dear Vieve, you have always been a favorite of mine and I did so wish to visit you.”
“Does Uncle Charles know you have come?”
“Oh, my, no. He is still quite angry about their argument at Chappington. Please understand, I do not defy him; he did not say I could not visit you. But I saw fit to leave my visit unmentioned.”
“Of course,” Vieve said, inviting her aunt to the drawing room and asking a maid to bring tea. She was a bit confused. She had never felt like a favorite of Elizabeth’s. Her aunt was always polite, but nothing more.
Elizabeth moved around the drawing room, taking her usual small steps, touching various objects with light fingers and remarking on Vieve’s lovely home. Vieve stood in uncomfortable silence, watching her aunt’s movements, listening to the compliments with a suspicious ear. Finally, Elizabeth found a comfortable seat, and the tea was served.
“You seem to be so contented, dear. Are you terribly happy with your Yankee husband?”
“He is a good man, Aunt. Yes, I am quite content.”
“How good for you. You deserve happiness. And I have always thought the captain a fine figure; most handsome.”
“Thank you,” Vieve said quietly.
“I am only sorry that we have such limited social ties. I’m afraid Charles is too piqued to be friendly.”
“It is understood. You needn’t worry.”
“My daughters would like to see you again, I’m sure.”
“We have never been very close, Aunt. I understand that they are busy with other things.”
“But family is so important. It would be good if Charles could settle his differences with your father.”
“Perhaps they will...”
“Not, I daresay, until your handsome husband stops coming between them.”
“Tyson? How does Tyson come between them?”
Elizabeth laughed softly and lifted her teacup to take a dainty sip. “Why, my sweet, Charles longs to be a part of this wonderful business they have together. The captain’s brothers have become involved; why not Charles? He is good in trade; he has money to invest.”
“That would be my father’s choice, I suppose,” Vieve replied. She looked at Elizabeth from under lowered lids as she sipped her own tea. Her aunt’s sweet and soft expression caused Vieve to wonder how she could be so naive about Charles’s desire for good business. But Elizabeth had always been removed, it seemed, from the seedier aspects of life. She was so preoccupied with manners, social graces, and conservative traditions, she would not pay much attention to her husband’s business.
“Well, perhaps Charles and Lord Ridgley will one day repair their family bonds. They have had such ups and downs for many years, bless them.”
“Many.”
“Do you plan to travel to your husband’s home soon, my dear, or will you be staying here for a while longer?”
“A long while, it would seem.”
“Oh? The captain is not eager to go home? How can he be so comfortable in this country?”
“He means to give careful attention to my father’s ailing business, Aunt Elizabeth. We may remain here for a very long time.”
“Are you quite serious?”
“Certainly.”
“But, Vieve, dear, an American working here would be subject to so many...ah...suspicions. It would be safer for him to be in his own land. There is no telling the number of angry British who might wish to disadvantage him.”
Vieve looked at her aunt squarely. “Can you name any, Aunt?”
“Of course I would not personally know of any, but I was told just a few weeks ago of a man from New York who came here as an emissary and met with mu
ch abuse. He was accused of some petty offense and was quite harshly punished. Do you not fear such could befall your own husband, because he is a foreigner?”
“My father would support him. Lord Ridgley is not without influence.”
“Certainly he has great influence, but enough? Surely you love your husband a great deal, Vieve. You should convince him to return to his homeland soon.”
“Tyson is very heavily invested here. He would not lightly leave his obligations.”
“If it is a matter of money, surely something could be arranged. Why, Charles himself hungers for a share of the shipping venture. Even he would extend a sum to make it possible for you to get your husband out of his weakened position.”
“I doubt that would interest Tyson, Aunt Elizabeth. But if you like, I will tell him you mentioned it.”
“I know very little about my husband’s accounts. He has always managed the business affairs for our household. But I have heard him say that he was deeply hurt that Lord Ridgley would not accept an investment from him.”
“My father must have had good reason,” Vieve cautiously murmured.
“Who is to say, dear. We are women, and therefore bent to the whim of our men. But I assure you, if I were married to a Yankee, I would not encourage his extended stay in England.”
“Would you use your wiles to hurry his departure?” Vieve asked with a sly smile.
Elizabeth laughed lightly, her cheeks even growing a little rosy. “I suppose I would at that. For your own good, I think you should.”
Vieve slowly lifted her cup and took a leisurely sip. “You seem almost anxious for us to leave, Aunt. And just after telling me how favored I am in your eyes.”
Elizabeth’s expression became strained. “I meant no offense,” she said.
“I only wonder why.”
Elizabeth’s mouth straightened to a stern line. Her small eyes twinkled. “I think I speak the truth when I mention the captain’s disadvantage here. Many would be suspicious of him because of his citizenship.”
