“Oh, no, not at all. In fact, I was hoping you would come,” she said, taking his hand, and gently pulling him further into her flower–scented drawing room. It was all very pink and feminine, Morgan thought, feeling overly large and ungainly amidst her delicate furniture. Everything was built on spindly legs that looked as if they might break if he did so much as look at them too hard.
Surprisingly, the sofa took both his and Sarah’s weight.
“It was quite thrilling to have met you yesterday evening,” Sarah began in her soft, slightly husky voice. “As I said then, I’ve never met a Vallen as powerful as you. I still can hardly imagine all that magic dwelling inside one person, even such a large, strong, handsome man like you.” She ran her fingers up Morgan’s arm, sending chills chasing through his body.
He swallowed and tried to control his heart, which was suddenly pounding in his chest. “Well, I, er, I understand you are a seductress,” he said, and then cringed with embarrassment.
But Sarah only laughed. “Ah, did Mr. Kean tell you, then? Yes, that is my meager little power.” She then sat back to look at him, meeting his eyes with her own eyes. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, fluttering her thick, black eyelashes at him.
“No,” Morgan tried to say, but somehow his voice didn’t seem to be working so well. He cleared his throat and tried again. “No, I don’t mind at all. It is why... well, I thought...”
“You thought you might like to learn about my powers for yourself? To, shall we say, experience them first hand?”
“Er, yes.” A trickle of sweat rolled down Morgan’s back. “If you don’t mind,” he added hastily.
“How could I possibly mind? Even if you weren’t so incredibly handsome,” she said, looking into his eyes, “and powerfully built. My goodness, look at the size of you,” she whispered pushing his coat back, off of his shoulders. “Oh, Mr. Vallentyn, just looking at you, just being with you...” She pulled back as he shrugged out of his coat, and ran her hands suggestively down her bosom, which was spilling out from her very low cut dress. “You give me the tingles.”
And indeed, Morgan could see the points of her nipples straining against the material of her dress. Oddly enough, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from her breasts. He knew that he shouldn’t stare, but something, her magic perhaps, kept him focused right there. His mouth watered at the sight of them—so full and beautiful. He wanted to taste them, and explore them.
“It’s all right, Mr. Vallentyn, go ahead,” she whispered, pulling her bodice down to reveal her beautiful body.
He did not need to be told twice, but immediately buried his face in between them, caressing them with his hands and his lips. His tongue swirled over and around the luscious tips of rose. But there was an odd taste to her.
He vividly remembered tasting Adriana and thinking there couldn’t be a sweeter wine in all the heavens. But Sarah, although soft, and much more round and generously proportioned than Adriana, didn’t elicit the same feelings Adriana had.
He closed his eyes, remembering the most wonderful afternoon of his life when he and Adriana had spent that all too brief thunderstorm in his cottage. He groaned with the taste and feel of Adriana in his mind.
He could feel his breeches, which had become unbearably tight, loosen as if they were being unbuttoned. And then he realized that they were. Sarah was smiling at him wickedly as she released his manhood.
She looked down at him for only a moment and then back up into his eyes. “Oh, Mr. Vallentyn, I should have known you would be so big and thick,” she purred, stroking him and sending the most delicious sensations through his body. It was all Morgan could do to keep from exploding right then and there.
Sarah slipped down onto her knees in front of him as he sat back on the sofa. With a smile as sweet as an angel’s, she gave the tip of him a lick with a quick flick of her tongue, nearly making him scream with delight as she took him into her hot, wet mouth.
Never in his life had he felt such a sensation! My God, he was in ecstasy. He could barely think because of all of the sensations running through his body and the blood which was pounding in his ears as Sarah moved her mouth up and down his shaft. Faster and faster she went, bringing him ever closer to the brink. But even as he teetered at the edge he knew that something wasn’t right.
He opened his eyes to see not Adriana’s auburn hair, but Sarah’s pale yellow tresses.
He couldn’t do this. Not to himself, and not to Adriana.
“No!” The word tore at him. It was literally painful, but he pushed her away. “No, this isn’t right. You must not.” She sat back, looking up at him with an expression of absolute shock on her face.
Morgan stood up and moved away from her, hastily buttoning his breeches and trying desperately to calm himself. He took two long deep breaths and thought of Adriana.
No, thinking of Adriana didn’t help. He would think... he would think of Kat and Cosmina. Yes, that helped. Nestor and his mother helped even more. Finally, he was able to finish buttoning his breeches comfortably.
He turned back around to face a quiet and demure woman.
“I’m sorry if you didn’t like...” Sarah began quietly.
“Oh, no. I liked what you were doing. I liked it very much. It was amazing, but...” Morgan took another deep breath, “but it wasn’t right.”
He turned and took a step toward the window that looked out onto the street. The drapes were drawn, but he could hear the rattle of carriages as they rolled past Sarah’s house. “I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I thought that I’d wanted to... to understand your magic better, but I was wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
Morgan leaned against the cool window frame. How could he explain to her what he himself didn’t understand? “I... there is a young woman.”
“Ah, I see.”
Morgan turned back toward Sarah. “No, you don’t. I want to be with her—with all my soul, I want to be with her to, to share my life and to share in hers...” He expelled his breath and ran his hand through his hair, pulling it out of the neat queue. “But she has told me that she doesn’t want to be with me.”
“But you love her,” Sarah said simply. “You want her. You need her,” she said, her voice growing quieter. Morgan could feel the sensation of longing in her voice. “You can’t imagine your life without her.”
“Yes! Yes, that’s it exactly!” Morgan strode over to her as she sat on her pretty pink sofa gazing out at nothing.
“Sometimes you need her so much, it hurts,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Morgan said quietly, dropping down next to her.
“You want to make love to her and show her just how much she means to you. Your two bodies joining as one,” Sarah continued, her voice weaving a beautiful picture in Morgan’s mind. “Touching her, tasting her—you want to make her entirely yours, because she is yours to cherish and care for. To love and be with for the rest of your life because you can’t possibly imagine your life without her.”
“Yes.” The word was wrenched from deep within his soul. This was right. This was how he felt about Adriana. He could never imagine not being with her, and he could certainly never, ever be with another.
Morgan dropped his face into his hands, pain slashing through his body as he remembered Adriana’s face when he last saw her. Tears burned his eyes, and he could barely breathe. When he managed to regain control over himself, he said, “But she doesn’t feel that way. She doesn’t want me.”
Sarah stroked his back. “I’m certain she does. She would be a fool not to want you.”
But Morgan shook his head, but didn’t raise it from his hands. “No. She said so.”
“Oh, Mr. Vallentyn. I’m sure she was just upset over something. But I assure you, and I know about these things, if you go back to her, she will welcome you with open arms. You simply need to tell her how you feel. You will find that she feels the same way.”
Morgan took out his handker
chief and wiped his face with it. “She must. She has to. We were meant to be together. I know it. I feel it.”
“Then it is that way. And you will be together.”
Thirty
Adriana’s grip on Lord Byron’s arm tightened.
He patted it gently and gave her a reassuring smile before leading her from his carriage toward the gallery for the opening night of the exhibition and sale of her paintings.
The fact that Henrietta followed at a discreet distance behind did nothing for her nerves, which had been on edge all evening.
“No, wait,” she said, pulling him to a stop before they began to climb the steps to the door. “I can’t do this. I can’t go in.”
“Of course you can. Don’t, please, don’t become missish now,” he said, sounding a little exasperated.
“No, I’m not, I just...”
“Miss Hayden, you are just nervous, that is all. But truly, everything will be fine.”
She pulled her hand away from his arm. “I’m not just nervous, my lord, I’m nauseous.” She turned back toward the curb, seriously wondering whether the very little she had managed to eat for dinner wouldn’t soon be at her feet.
Henrietta was no help at all. She kept a proper distance, wringing her own hands, and looking as anxious as Adriana felt.
Lord Byron came up next to her. “Just take a few deep breaths, Miss Hayden, and you will be fine,” he encouraged her gently, his voice becoming more resonant.
Adriana did as she was told, and indeed, her stomach did settle itself down. She didn’t think he’d used his magic, yet, but he seemed ready to do so should she need it.
“Better? Good, now, please, let us remove ourselves from the street. There is nothing more gauche than standing about on the footpath.”
Lord Byron had done so much for her that she certainly didn’t wish to put him out any more than was absolutely necessary. He had not only taken all of her paintings to the art dealer and had arranged for this exhibition, but he had even somehow convinced her guardian to allow her to attend, as well. If it hadn’t been for him, she certainly would not have been here tonight.
She swallowed her fear, bit back her bile, and placed her hand once more on his outstretched arm.
“All right?” he asked gently.
She gave a little nod, not entirely certain she could trust her voice not to give away her fears.
“Very good, then, in we go.”
Just as the footman reached for the handle, she shied back one again, “Oh, no, my lord...”
This time Lord Byron turned and looked Adriana in the eye. “Miss Hayden...” he began, his voice becoming even more resonant than before. But Adriana stopped him, holding up a hand. She didn’t want him to use his magic. She didn’t need it, she told herself firmly.
“It is all right, my lord. You don’t need to do that,” She said, knowing he would understand full well she was referring to his magical power without having to risk saying so in public.
He stopped and looked at her closely, but with a little smile playing on his lips. “Are you certain?”
Adriana took a deep breath and straightened her back. “Yes.” She turned back to the door. With the knowledge that both Lord Byron and Henrietta were with her, she walked into the gallery.
“Well done,” Lord Byron said approvingly as he moved next to her.
A short rotund man with large sideburns approached them, laughing jovially. “Lord Byron, my lord!” He reached out and grasped his hand. “So good to see you, my lord!”
“Sir William, how do you do,” Lord Byron said, suffering the gentleman’s attentions. “May I introduce Miss Adriana Hayden?”
“Ah! Our artist! How wonderful to meet you, Miss Hayden. Delighted, delighted!” he said too loudly for Adriana’s comfort, especially as she noticed that the heads of the few people who were present all turned in her direction.
Thank God, Adriana thought with sigh of relief as she took a quick look around the gallery, there was almost no one there. Perhaps no one would come. Perhaps everything would be all right after all. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Henrietta take a seat in one of the little gilt chairs set off to the side of the room for chaperones.
She still couldn’t imagine how she had come to agree to this. She probably never would have, had Lord Byron not used his magic to convince her.
“Thank you for agreeing to hold this exhibition, Sir William,” Adriana said, with only the smallest hint of a quiver to her voice.
“Not at all! My pleasure, my pleasure!” he said, laughing, and giving Lord Byron a wink. Adriana wondered what that was about, but forgot about it almost immediately as Sir William led them forward, further into the room.
Her nausea came back in full force when she saw all of her work displayed on the walls. Quite a few of the pieces had been framed, including...
“Oh, no! Oh, my goodness! No, you cannot sell that. Oh, how did that get here?” Adriana was absolutely distraught. She couldn’t breathe! She was going to faint or throw up or both. She put one hand to her chest, attempting to breathe, while putting another to her red hot cheek.
In front of her, framed and sitting on a stand prominently displayed in the center of the room, was her painting of Morgan.
She turned to the gentlemen next to her. “Oh, Lord Byron, please. Sir William, have that removed at once.” She looked desperately around the room, and was grateful once again that there were so few people present—and, most importantly, no one she knew.
But it had to, absolutely had to be removed before anyone else saw it!
How could her painting of a naked Morgan standing by the stream be so prominently displayed? If anyone saw it, she would never be able to show her face in public again! Oh, my goodness, and he truly looked as if he was about to turn around and show himself as God had made him!
She walked straight up to the painting and began to pull it down. Where was a cloth to cover it? Perhaps she could hide it under her skirts—but no, it was too big and her dress just did not have that much material to it. She looked frantically about for something, anything with which to cover the offending piece.
“Miss Hayden, stop!” Sir William said, coming over to her and pulling the painting back onto its stand. “You cannot remove this piece!” To reinforce his point, he forcibly placed himself between her and the painting.
Adriana wanted to cry, and indeed had to furiously blink back the tears that had come to her eyes. She looked desperately at Lord Byron. “Please, my lord, you cannot allow him to display this painting.”
Adriana came very close to stamping her foot, preferably on Lord Byron’s own, as an expression of mild amusement twitched at his lips. “I could hardly believe you had painted such a portrait, but once I saw it, I knew it would be the piece de resistance. “ He then leaned down and whispered to her, “I’m not entirely certain I want to know how or when you saw Mr. Vallentyn in such a pose, but perhaps you can tell me later.” He gave a chuckle and Adriana was certain she was as close to swooning as she had ever come in her life.
She didn’t have time for such an indulgence, however, because a large number of people had just entered the gallery. And they were coming straight towards her—and her painting of Morgan! She looked desperately at Lord Byron, but he just gave a small shrug of his shoulders before turning to greet the newcomers.
Adriana stood back and watched them arrive. There was nothing she could do. Well, she supposed there were two things she could do—she could give way to panic, which was a very enticing option, or she could pull herself together, which was what she needed to do.
Adriana closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. When she opened her eyes again, she was staring directly at her painting of Morgan. All of the wonderful feelings she had felt when she had painted the portrait in her studio—just days after she had come back from Vallentyn—came flooding back to her. The longing for him, the happiness, and the desire. It was there, captured in her pai
nting.
But there was more, now—more inside of her because she knew Morgan so much better now than she did the day she had painted his portrait. He had become a part of her life since then—an integral part.
Voices intruded on her thoughts.
“It’s incredible!” a man said.
“My goodness! How very provocative!” his companion said, giggling.
“It’s brilliant, absolutely brilliant.”
Adriana was pushed away from the painting by a surge of people all straining to see it. She slowly moved away while listening to the whispers and exclamations from the people now pouring into the gallery.
Standing next to where Henrietta sat, she could hardly believe the number of people who had come to the exhibition within the last few minutes. There had to be at least two hundred people crowded into the room. But as she watched all of the beautiful people of the beau monde—the women in their glittering jewels, the men with their impeccably tied neck cloths, and even her most beloved companion—she had never felt more alone and out of place.
There was a shuffle of displaced people and she could hear Sir William’s overly loud voice. “Excuse me. I beg your pardon. Ah, my lord, so good to see you, so good to see you! Yes, excuse me just a moment.” And then he was standing in front of her. “Ah! There you are! Miss Hayden, what in the world are you doing hiding over here?” he nearly shouted.
Adriana momentarily felt a panicked need to run and hide, but there was nowhere for her to go. She locked eyes on Henrietta who just looked at her with a broad smile and that twinkle in her eye, while all of the people surrounding her turned and stared. There was no chance for escape.
“Please, ladies and gentlemen, our artist! Here is the talented Miss Hayden!” Sir William said leading her, with a strong hand on her back, towards the center of the room again.
And just like that, she was suddenly surrounded with gentlemen taking her hand and women murmuring their congratulations.
“Brilliant.”
Magic In The Storm Page 27
