by Diane Gaston
Tess sighed. ‘If you wish to try.’
Nancy pushed one last hairpin into Tess’s hair. ‘What dress do you wish to wear to dinner?’
‘It does not matter,’ Tess said.
Nancy walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out the blue gown, the one that reminded Tess of Marc’s eyes. Of all her gowns, why that one?
She said nothing, though. What would it matter what gown she wore?
Nancy helped her into the dress and she slipped her feet into her shoes. There was nothing left to do but appear at Lord and Lady Northdon’s sitting room and go have dinner with them.
A knock sounded at the door. She was probably late and they’d sent a servant to collect her.
Nancy hurried over to open the door. ‘Oh, Mr Glenville!’
Marc?
‘I’ve come for Mrs Glenville. Is she ready?’ he asked.
Nancy stepped aside to allow him to enter.
Tess stood. ‘Oh. You are here.’ In spite of herself her heart pounded at the sight of him.
He remained near the doorway. ‘I said I would try to come for dinner.’
Tess picked up her shawl. ‘Well. We should go then. Your parents will be waiting.’ She turned to Nancy. ‘Goodbye, Nancy.’
Nancy bobbed a quick curtsy. ‘Goodbye, ma’am!’
Tess swept past Marc and crossed into the hallway. She started towards his parents’ room.
He caught up with her. ‘We are not dining with my parents.’
She halted and faced him. ‘Not dining with them?’
He stood too close to her. ‘I know you will not believe me, but they told me they were dining alone.’
‘Alone?’ She did not believe him. ‘What of Amelie?’
‘They have apparently given Captain Fowler permission to take Amelie to one of the nearby restaurants.’
She peered at him. ‘Why do I think that you are tricking me?’
He took her by the arm and walked with her to a sofa at the end of the hallway.
He sat her down and his blue eyes held her in their grasp. ‘Tess, I admit I have not always been able to tell you the truth, but I am telling the truth now. I want you to trust me. I want to begin again with you.’
She felt weak under the power of his gaze and his soft words.
‘I will go to dinner with you,’ she told him. ‘But I do not trust you.’
He nodded. ‘Dinner is enough at the moment. Will the Postillon be acceptable?’
‘I know nothing about where to dine in Brussels.’
He stood and extended his hand to help her up. She accepted it, but he did not release her even when she was out of her seat. ‘Thank you, Tess.’
She pulled her hand away and wrapped her shawl around her. They walked down the stairs and out of the hotel on to the Rue Royale.
* * *
Marc’s hopes soared. He’d not been at all certain she would actually agree to dine with him. He was determined to put her at her ease.
But they’d walked halfway to the restaurant, near the cathedral, before she even spoke to him. ‘Your mother and Amelie were very pleased to receive the invitation to the ball.’
‘I am glad,’ he responded. Mostly he was glad she decided to converse with him.
‘It was odd, though,’ she went on. ‘Your father was quite solicitous of your mother. And there was no one about to impress, merely Amelie and me. Your mother opened like a flower in the sun under his kindness. It was quite remarkable.’
‘He was kind to her? I should have liked to see that.’ Had his father actually listened to him? That would be remarkable in itself. ‘And they planned a private dinner? My God.’
They reached the restaurant, which was filled with other Englishmen, as well as soldiers and their ladies. There were few Belgians, probably because the hour was later than their typical dinner hour.
They ordered mussels and frites and fat sausages and large glasses of beer. They started out talking only about the food and it seemed to Marc that Tess finally relaxed around him.
‘Did your sisters come to London for the Season?’ Marc asked when they’d exhausted comments about the food and the surroundings.
Her expression stiffened. ‘Yes, they came.’
He frowned. ‘What is it, Tess? Did something happen with your sisters?’
She put her fork down and looked him in the eye. ‘My marriage seems to have put some distance between us. Lorene feels I wasted her sacrifice. And I think Genna is angry because I let society dictate that I should marry. I did not tell them what Tinmore was prepared to do to them if I’d not married you.’
‘And you probably could not explain why I left so abruptly,’ he added.
‘Who could explain why you left after the wedding night?’ Her voice was bitter. ‘How could anyone understand that?’
His insides twisting in pain, he leaned towards her. ‘I did not leave to be away from your bed.’
She glanced around, as if to see if anyone heard him. ‘Do not speak of it.’
He glanced down at his plate, spearing a piece of sausage, knowing he was not telling her the complete truth. He had run from her bed, had he not? He’d simply not intended to be forced to run all the way to France.
He looked up again. ‘I am sorry I hurt you, Tess.’
Her face filled with colour and she lifted her beer to her lips, taking a long sip. His words hung in the air a long time.
The word ball drifted over from a nearby table.
He took that opportunity to change to a safer subject. ‘The duchess’s ball is a topic of conversation, I see.’
As he hoped, she accepted the turn in conversation. ‘Amelie is very excited.’
They talked about the ball and the decorations they’d seen transforming that large room into a ballroom. Soon their meal had ended.
When they left the restaurant, Marc asked, ‘Shall we walk back through the park?’
Many gentlemen and their ladies were strolling through the park. Lovers, Marc thought. Those in uniform would soon be marching into battle. Tomorrow he hoped to learn more of when that battle might occur. He hoped he learned soon enough for Tess and his family to leave Brussels.
They reached the hotel and walked up the stairs to her room.
‘Thank you for dinner,’ she said.
On the landing, she stopped and turned to him. ‘Tell me something, Marc. Can men make love to women without loving them?’
He felt he was about to tread through brambles. ‘They can.’
She nodded, looking as if she’d found a final piece to a puzzle.
She started up the stairs again and reached the hallway.
‘That is the easy part,’ he said. ‘Making love without love. Very little is at stake—at least for the man. Love makes the whole thing more dangerous.’
‘Because it can lead to death? Like with your brother and your friend?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
They reached her door.
‘And can women make love without love?’ she asked, taking the key from her reticule.
All this talk about lovemaking—did she not realise it was all he could think of as he walked her to her room?
‘They can,’ he responded. ‘Although for women I suspect lovemaking is dangerous whether they feel love or not.’
‘Why would you say that?’ she asked.
‘They risk having a child.’
‘A child...’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Do you want a child, Tess?’ he asked, suddenly seeing in his mind’s eye a little girl with auburn hair and hazel eyes, a little girl who would not suffer the loss of everyone dear to her.
She coloured again. ‘Of course I do.’
She started to enter her room, but he blocked her way with his arm.
‘We could make love, then, if you wish it.’ Was he insane to even suggest this? He might drive her away again.
She turned pale. ‘No. No. I—I cannot. Not after—’
He lightly touched a
finger to her lips. ‘Never mind. I can wait.’
Desire for her was now pulsing through him. He wanted her so much he was inches from lifting her into his arms and carrying her to her bed.
He kept himself in check.
She put the key in the lock and opened the door.
‘Goodnight, Tess,’ he murmured, backing away.
She disappeared into the room and the door closed.
‘Patience,’ he told himself aloud. At least she was talking to him now. At least she agreed to spend time with him. Time might not heal the wounds he’d inflicted, but it might help them come to some sort of truce.
He started down the hallway.
The sound of a door opening reached his ears.
‘Marc?’ she called.
He turned at her voice speaking his name.
She stood in her doorway. ‘Stop by the hotel clerk and ask for a message to be sent to Nancy?’
‘My pleasure,’ he responded. ‘What is the message?’
‘That I will not be needing her tonight.’
He nodded, glad she’d given him something to do for her. He turned and continued down the hallway.
‘Marc?’ she called to him again.
He turned.
‘Then come back to me.’
* * *
Marc hurried down to the clerk and arranged for the message to be delivered to Nancy. It was all he could do not to run back to Tess. He forced himself not to bound up the steps and race down the hallway to her room.
But he walked as fast as he could.
When she opened the door to him he took her in his arms and indulged in the kiss he’d feared she would repulse. His wife buried her fingers in his hair. Her lips parted and he felt her tongue touch his.
Joy filled him.
But she pulled away. ‘I—I want to see how it will be, knowing you cannot love me. I want to see what lovemaking will be, knowing that.’
What did she mean knowing he could not love her? He did love her! That was what had driven him from her bed that first night.
But he would do this her way. She’d earned that right after what he’d put her through.
‘Whatever you desire, Tess.’ He took her in his arms again for another kiss.
It seemed as if her body came alive to him.
‘Let me undress you,’ he rasped when they broke the kiss.
‘Like in the cabin?’ she murmured.
He held her against him, loving the feel of her body pressing against his. ‘Not like the cabin.’
He released her and untied the laces of her dress, letting it slip to the floor. He removed her corset next, this time unlacing it instead of cutting her out of it.
He stepped back, then, and peeled off his coat and waistcoat. He tore off his neckcloth. She pulled his shirt from his trousers and reached her hands beneath it to lift it over his head.
It suddenly seemed urgent that they rid themselves of the rest of their clothing. She pulled pins from her hair while he kicked off his shoes and stockings. As her hair tumbled over her shoulders, she took off her shift. He came to her again for another embrace, savouring the feel of his bare skin against her breasts. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He wanted to touch every inch of her, to assure himself she was real and that she was really warm and eager under his hands. He peeled off her stockings, the last barrier between them.
She reached for him. ‘I am like my mother,’ she said, her voice like sandpaper. ‘I want this.’
Her words took him aback, but this was no time for a discussion.
Maybe she was like her mother in this regard. Maybe she was a woman blessed with the ability to enjoy sensuality. He would savour that.
He ought to be gentle, careful, slow. He ought to treat her reverently, but she urged him on, pressing her fingers against his buttocks.
He kissed her roughly and plunged inside her, his body taking over, needing to move inside her, needing to climb to the peak with her as if this were a race to be won.
She kept up with him, her breath coming in gasps, her hips rising to meet each thrust.
‘Hurry,’ she groaned. ‘Hurry.’
He could not help but hurry. He moved faster and faster until she cried out and writhed beneath him. He felt her release inside her and his own pleasure exploded in return.
The power of his physical response to her astounded him.
This is love, Tess, he wanted to tell her. This is me loving you.
He suddenly understood what had driven his parents to marry, what had caused his brother to race to Gretna Green. He understood the desolation Charles must have felt when the woman he loved spurned him. To lose Tess would be devastating.
But he would not lose her, because he had no intention of ever letting her go.
She moved out of his grasp, though, but only to slide on top of him.
‘Make love to me again,’ she said.
* * *
Marc lost count of how many times they made love. It was as if they both needed to make up for lost time. He had no illusions about her forgiving him. He was still a long way from earning her trust, but this was a glorious start.
Sharing such pleasure together made for a very good foundation.
Unless this new war wore it away again, which it could do if it lasted ten more years. He could only be pulled from her so many times before there would be no rebuilding between them.
But for the moment he savoured holding her in his arms as dawn peeked in the windows. She looked peaceful and beautiful in sleep.
He heard a soft knock at the door. Surely it was too early for Nancy? He tried to ignore it, but it continued, louder this time.
‘Who the devil?’ he whispered to himself as he slipped his arm out from under her and untangled his legs from hers.
He grabbed his shirt and put it on as he walked to the door. ‘Who is it?’ he said as softly as he could.
‘Scott’ came louder through the door.
He opened it a crack and held a finger to his lips.
‘You have to come now,’ Scott whispered.
No, Marc protested inside. Not now. Not again. ‘Wait. Let me tell her.’
Scott shook his head. ‘No time. Now.’
‘I have to dress.’ Marc closed the door. He quickly put his trousers and stockings on and grabbed the rest of his clothes. He started towards the door, but stopped and returned to the bed. ‘Tess. Tess.’ He shook her gently.
She opened her eyes and blinked rapidly.
‘I must go. No time to explain. I’ll be back for the ball.’
He hoped he would be back for the ball, at least.
He kissed her quickly.
‘No!’ she cried.
But he turned away and crossed the room to the door, leaving before she could say another word.
Chapter Seventeen
Tess tried to shake herself awake.
Had he been with her? Or had she dreamed it all?
She could still smell his scent on the bed linens and she remembered the feel of him as he drove her to the heights of pleasure.
She also remembered him leaving her.
He said he’d be back, though, had he not? He said he’d be back for the Duchess of Richmond’s ball.
Could she believe him?
Nancy came in the room at her usual time, glancing around as if she, too, were looking for Marc. She did not ask any questions, though. Tess could feel her wondering if he had spent the night, why he had gone. Instead she cheerfully got Tess ready to greet the day.
‘The lace overdress is coming along very nicely,’ she told Tess. ‘It should be ready for the ball.’
The ball. Would he come? Or had he run from her again, after making love?
There had been nothing dispassionate about their lovemaking. On the contrary, they’d both been in the throes of that same sensual madness that he believed led to his parents’ misery and to the deaths of his brother and Charles.
Was
that why he’d run from her once again?
‘Maybe after you eat breakfast, you can try on the overdress?’ Nancy said.
How nice it would be to think of dresses and lace and balls and not that your husband both desired you and recoiled from being with you.
* * *
Everywhere Tess went that day the duchess’s ball was talked of. She heard it discussed in the hotel lobby, in the park, certainly whenever she was in the company of Lady Northdon and Amelie.
The invitation list, she’d learned, was quite exclusive, limited to friends of the Richmonds and those other dignitaries, noblemen and army officers who must be included. All the more reason for Tess and the Glenvilles to have been excluded. What sort of influence had Marc, to add their names to the guest list?
Would he come?
Amelie and Lady Northdon insisted Tess accompany them to the shops early in the day for last-minute purchases that might be needed for the ball. Amelie bought new gloves. Lady Northdon found an elegant head piece that matched her gown. Tess purchased a lace shawl, but she spent most of her time searching the streets of Brussels to see if she could spy Marc.
They’d run into Miss Caldwell while out shopping, but seeing the young woman only reminded her that Marc had wanted to marry Miss Caldwell and not Tess.
* * *
When they returned to the hotel from shopping in the afternoon, Tess tried the lace overdress Nancy created. It was lovely and fit perfectly. The girl was in raptures over it, finding finishing touches to complete and new ideas to make it even more lovely. For Nancy’s sake Tess pretended to be excited over it.
After she handed the overdress back to Nancy, there was nothing to do but wait for Marc. Her mood dipped near its nadir.
Tess ate an early dinner with Lord and Lady Northdon in their sitting room in the hotel. Captain Fowler, now Amelie’s fiancé, was included of course. A place was set for Marc, but the setting was removed when he did not arrive.
While they ate, Tess, not a part of the conversation, became aware of a distant rumble. ‘What is that sound?’ she finally asked.
They were all silent until the sound repeated.
‘Alors! It is nothing but thunder!’ Lady Northdon waved her hand dismissively and continued talking to Captain Fowler.
A grim-faced Lord Northdon shook his head. ‘It is not thunder.’
