‘I do not understand you.’
‘It was Franklyn’s man who brought the brooch to me. He claimed to have found it among the bedcovers. How I kept my fingers from his throat I shall never know.’
‘Franklyn’s man? But why?’
‘The last thing my dear cousin Franklyn wants is another life to stand between him and the title.’
‘But you heard him. He has no desire to stand in your shoes.’
‘My little innocent! Do you believe everything a man tells you? Believe me, Franklyn burns to inherit my title. His hatred of me is a lifelong obsession.’ He lifted his hand to his scarred cheek. ‘This represents his first attempt upon my life.’ He ripped the bandage from his forehead. ‘And this, I believe, is the second.’
She clutched his sleeve with a convulsive gesture. ‘Be careful, please be careful.’
He covered her hand with his. ‘I always am. Fortunately, he is a very clumsy assassin.’
‘Why do you tolerate him? Why invite him to your house?’
He smiled. ‘Have you ever heard the phrase keep your friends close and your enemies closer? I tolerate him because to shun him would create just the kind of scandal I wish to avoid. He would prate of his wrongs to every credulous fool in town, and many would believe him. He is such a “dashed good fellow” whilst I am sinister in the extreme.’
‘But he tried to kill you!’
‘I have no proof of that. Even if I had, how could I drag our name through the courts and have one of my own blood end his life on the scaffold?’
She sank onto the side of the bed. ‘But William is the heir. Killing you would not make Franklyn the Duke of Rochford.’
His face hardened. ‘No, but William will most likely not live to beget an heir. If I were out of the way, Franklyn could afford to wait a matter of a year or two, and when the boy dies, he steps into his place without a hint of suspicion. I believe William’s collapse at dinner the other night took Franklyn by surprise. He had thought he had ample time to dispose of me and then—’ He walked to the window, staring out across the snow-covered grounds to where the sea pounded upon the pewter-coloured sands. ‘Our marriage, too, has complicated things. At first, I suspected his intention was to seduce you, thus paving the way for divorce. At one time, I feared he might succeed but, since your illness, you have set him at a distance. This, no doubt,’ he gestured to the brooch in his palm, ‘is meant to convince me that you and he are lovers.’
She laughed. ‘He should have used a handkerchief.’
He looked an enquiry, and then his mouth twisted into a smile. ‘As I said, I am no Othello.’ He walked across the room and sat beside her, possessing himself of both her hands. ‘I do not think that you are in danger of anything more than his attempts to discredit you. We will let him think he has succeeded. In public, my darling, we must be as cold to one another as we were before your illness. I think that will ensure your safety. But I am taking no chances. Yuri is not here just to drive your sleigh. He will protect you when I cannot.’
‘How can I be a threat to him?’
‘You might be carrying my child.’
‘But that is impossible.’
‘He does not know that.’
A great longing swept over her, and she raised her eyes with an unmistakable invitation in them. ‘I wish it were true,’ she told him softly.
‘Minette?’ Then his arms were around her, and his mouth came down upon hers swift and fierce, like the falcon he resembled, stooping to its prey. She fluttered for a moment in his arms, and he released her instantly. But she only twined an arm around his neck and, threading her fingers through his blood-matted hair, she drew his head once more to her lips.
Minette could not have told how long she lay in his arms, her lips parted, her mouth invaded by his, awakened to a joy she could never have dreamed of, her whole being brought alive by his kisses. Timidly at first, and then more daring, she explored his face with caressing hands, tracing the line of his jaw, the high cheekbones, and the broad brow.
When he at last lifted his head and looked down into her eyes, she was delicately flushed, her big eyes dark with desire, her small, white hands reaching for him. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back against the pillows. He was still for a moment, drinking in her beauty, then his hands slid down her arms, and the light muslin of her gown fell in folds around her waist, leaving her breasts uncovered. He shook his head wonderingly and put out a hand to fondle the exquisite swell of one breast. She shivered at his touch and covered his hand with her own.
‘Is this what you desire, my pretty Duchess?’ he teased, driving her to distraction with the tiny movement of his finger against her nipple. ‘Are all your fears quite vanished?’
She had fears of which he had no inkling, but they were less than nothing when set against the joy that was burgeoning within her. She met his questioning gaze and, smiling, she took his face between her two palms and guided his head to her breast. ‘Oh, my love,’ she sighed as he covered the sensitive nipple with his mouth. ‘Am I dreaming?’
‘If you are, it is a dream I have shared this many a long night,’ he murmured with a laugh in his voice. He cupped her breasts, tasting each taut nipple in turn, bathing them with his tongue, nipping them gently at first and then, as she moaned and tossed her head upon the satin-covered pillow, more roughly. Her hips began to move all unconsciously, back and forth, as he suckled the rosy peaks and his clever fingers all the while smoothed, stroked, and caressed the full, high rise of each breast. When her hips thrust higher, in obedience to her desires, his hands strayed down her thighs, and his mouth followed where his hands had led. He kissed the fine, sensitive skin of her smooth thighs, the soft yielding satin of her belly, and the silky curls below.
‘I want you,’ she whispered, taking his hand and pressing it into her aching flesh. ‘I have wanted you for so long.’
He groaned, but managed to utter lightly, even as his fingers assuaged her unspoken need. ‘My darling, if only you had said so earlier, we could have saved ourselves a deal of grief. But, no matter, you have said it now.’
He had brought her to such a pitch that she could only watch in a kind of daze as he shrugged himself out of his coat and pulled the shirt out of his breeches. But then, as he struggled, fingers suddenly clumsy, with the buttons of his breeches, she recovered herself and leant forward to help him. In her innocence, she did not understand why this proximity brought forth low groans and a renewed urgency from her lover.
Then, at last, he was lying naked beside her. He took her in his arms, and she knew for the first time the primitive sensation of a man’s heat radiating against the length of her. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her breathing quickened and, when he thrust himself into her damp warmth, she might have fainted if his lips had not fastened upon hers, drinking in her sweetness. Mindful of her inexperience, he was gentle with her, kissing, caressing, murmuring words of love. But it soon became apparent to both of them that, virginal though she might be, her true nature was as passionate, as sensual, and as exacting as his own. As this beloved man, her sister’s husband, moved inside her, her unfettered thoughts repeated scornfully, over and over in time to his thrusts—dutiful compliance, dutiful compliance, dutiful compli-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Her climax, when it came, was so shattering that she bit hard into his shoulder to keep back a scream that would have surely echoed throughout the house. Then, even as wave after wave of sensation racked her limp body, she felt Rochford pulse strongly within her, and he cried out her name as he fell across her slight frame, shuddering.
Seventeen
It was long before either of them spoke. Minette was content to lie in his arms, her head pillowed against his chest while he stroked her hair over and over. But in the end, inevitably, it was she who broke the silence. ‘Do you love me?’
‘When I recover my strength a little, I’ll be delighted to demonstrate it to you all over again,’ he answered, lazily tickling her breast with one finge
r.
She raised herself on one elbow, looking down at him seriously. ‘I am not funning. Tell me.’
He reached up a hand to cup her cheek and drew her down until their lips met softly. ‘I will love you until the day I die and beyond.’
‘When did you begin to love me? Did you love me when you married me?’
‘My darling, what does it matter? This is all that counts.’
‘Then you did not?’
He sighed. ‘I thought you the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I desired you, and I believed your breeding made you an excellent choice. But if you must have the truth, I was not in love with you.’ He scanned her face, a faint puzzled frown between his brows. ‘You look somewhat pleased. Now why is that?’
She smiled a secret little smile and traced tiny circles with her finger upon his abdomen, still glistening with sweat from the ardour of their coupling. ‘When did you start to love me then?’
‘What a strange question. I could as easily subject you to the same catechism. Have you forgotten how you rejected my advances when first we were married? You did not try to dissemble your disgust.’
‘Disgust! No, you have never disgusted me!’ She kissed his scarred cheek and, gently pulling away the eye patch he wore, she pressed her lips to the lid that covered the empty socket. ‘It was—’ She stopped suddenly, biting her lip. She had been about to say it was Eugénie that had been disgusted. ‘It was only that I was frightened.’
His arms tightened around her. ‘I did not mean to frighten you. My poor darling. Do not think I do not understand. I have met your grandmother. I think you had little choice in the matter when you accepted me.’ He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. ‘Is that not so?’
She would not lie to him more than she could help, and so she answered carefully, ‘It was Grandmère who demanded our union. That I do not deny.’
‘I thought so. She so trained you that you appeared to be nothing more than a shallow, empty-headed, society Beauty, when all the while, my darling Minette, there was a treasure of goodness, sweetness, and a loving heart beneath that outer shell.’ He kissed her and folded her more closely in his embrace. ‘I noticed it first after your illness. You seemed almost a different person. I ascribed it to fatigue, but now I wonder if something happened during that week you were away.’
She stirred uneasily. ‘That is silly. What could have happened?’
‘I do not know. I demand no explanation. But I thank God for it.’
She gripped his shoulders, moved by a sudden urgency. ‘I want you to make love to me again.’
‘I believe I am sufficiently recovered," he answered lightly. ‘Shall we make the attempt?’ But, despite his flippancy, his voice wasn't quite steady and his breathing quickened. She twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled his head down to her aching nipples.
His questing hand moved downwards to find the pulsing heat between her legs. She was moist and ready once more as his fingers found the hot flesh inside her. Her hips began to move against his hand, and she cried out tossing her head from side to side. He looked down at her consideringly. ‘Let us not be in such a hurry, my love.’ He shifted, positioning himself upon the edge of the bed, and then pulled her into his lap so that they were breast to breast, her legs encircling his waist, and his mouth locked to hers. He had entered so deep within her, their connection so intense that the slow grinding of his hips drove her almost to frenzy. Then as she surged towards fulfillment, he fell back upon the bed, holding her hips above him and his thrusts grew hard and swift. The second time he brought her to the summit of sensation was more perfect than the first. She knew now what to expect, and she was able to savour each wave of pleasure, each throb of delight.
They lay entwined, their sweat-soaked bodies still as one. Her thigh covered his, and her arms encircled him possessively. Rochford stroked her hair and pressed kisses on her closed eyelids and the corners of her swollen mouth. ‘Now do you believe?’ he demanded, teasing.
‘Do you?’ she answered, turning her cheek to press a kiss into the hollow of his shoulder.
Minette was far too innocent to realise that she had been initiated into the game of love by a master of the art. However, she was dimly aware, from overheard whispers, that many, perhaps most, women did not experience ecstasy such as this when they lay with their husbands. Suddenly, she wondered if Charles had brought Eugénie to this pitch of pleasure or, dreadful thought, had Rochford and Lady Ashbury—? And could Lady Ashbury please him more than she? She could not ask outright, but she said hesitatingly, ‘I hope that you were not disappointed. It was the first time for me and—’
‘Disappointed,’ he echoed with a shaky laugh. ‘My sweet, sweet Minette, how could you think that?’ He took her chin in his hand and drew her face up to his. ‘Besides, this was a new experience for me, too, you know.’
She pushed his hand away. ‘You surely do not expect me to believe that this is the first time you have been to bed with a woman?’
His smile deepened. ‘No, it is, however, the first time I have been in bed, or anywhere else for that matter, with a woman that I love.’
She melted into his arms. ‘Oh Philip! Truly?’
He kissed her. ‘Upon my honour, little doubter!’
‘Then everything is perfect.’ She stretched her slender arms above her head and sighed. ‘Grandmère told me that physical love would be my metier. She seemed to think that it was a bad thing.’
He laughed. ‘She is an old lady of considerable perception. It is undoubtedly your metier. If you were not already my wife, what a mistress you would make.’
She nipped his neck and then kissed the place in case she should have hurt him. ‘I will be your mistress. For as long as you want me.’
‘Will you, my love? As long as that?’ He glanced at the clock upon the dresser and, with a groan, he rolled off her. ‘I had forgot the time. We must dress for this dinner, Sweetheart. There will be speeches and toasts. We cannot be late.’
He stood beside the bed quite unconcerned by his nakedness. For the most part, as he initiated her into the mysteries of her own body, her eyes had been closed, the better to savour all the new sensations that had come to her. Now she saw, displayed as for the first time, his powerful, muscled frame, the perfect proportion of his fine shoulders to his narrow waist and hips, the strong thighs and graceful calves. ‘Five more minutes?’ she murmured, provocatively and had the gratification to see how promptly his manhood responded to the invitation. She laughed delightedly as he pounced upon her, dragging her to the edge of the bed and spreading her legs without the least courtesy or delicacy.
He looked down at her for a moment, gripping her thighs. Then he shrugged and said, ‘Well, you are a Frenchwoman, after all.’ He knelt, and his mouth and tongue took possession of her in a way that quickly turned her laughter to moans and breathless whimpers.
In the event, it was rather less than five minutes later that she cried out his name, arched her back and quivered for an endless moment against his mouth, her fingers twined in his hair. He scarcely allowed her to enjoy the sensation before he flipped her over onto her knees and entered her neatly from behind, taking his satisfaction speedily and with one eye upon the clock. Then he cupped her breasts in his palms, bit the exquisite curve where her neck and shoulder joined, and said, ‘That is how mistresses are treated, my lovely one.’
‘Fortunate mistresses,’ she responded.
An hour later, she and Rochford were seated at the high table in the great hall, sumptuously dressed and studiously polite to each other. ‘What should I wear for the dinner?’ she had asked, and he answered, ‘Dress as though you were to dine with the Regent. Anything less would be an insult.’ And so, there she sat at Rochford’s left hand dressed all in stiff gold brocade and emeralds while he wore the black coat, knee breeches, and white silk stockings that represented Court attire.
Mr Burroughs, the steward, was seated upon her left. While they talked of the dif
ficulty of keeping town servants in the country and he promised her an experienced dresser, a French lady he had heard of, her thoughts wandered: What actors we humans are! My entire life is transformed since I awoke this morning. I have given myself to a man who is not my husband; I have known rapture, I have lied in deed, if not in word, and yet here I am eating my dinner and talking about household problems as though nothing had happened. Was it all a dream?
Then, under the table, Rochford took her hand in his. He did not look at her nor cease to give his courteous attention to Mrs Pritchard’s comfortable gossip, but the pressure of his hand offered her much needed reassurance and a promise. As he stroked her palm with one finger, a blush rose in her cheeks, her eyes grew brilliant, and she enchanted Mr Burroughs by laughing gaily at all his very moderate witticisms.
Dinner was very much a repeat of the meal her guests had enjoyed the previous day but catered for a much larger company. She counted over a hundred revellers before she gave up. All the household servants were present, and the Castle was not meagrely staffed. There were tenant cottagers and their families, the estate-village storekeepers and even, Mr Burroughs whispered disapprovingly, a couple of local poachers for whom the Duke had a fondness. To feed this multitude, there were dozens of fat geese roasted with chestnuts, a haunch of venison, an enormous pork pie, a gigantic ham, two sides of beef, a wheel of Cheddar cheese, and the largest plum pudding she had ever seen. Pyramids of hothouse peaches, nectarines, and plums were placed at intervals all along the table and, as the crowning luxury, a large pineapple. She had thought she would be too nervous to eat but found to her surprise that she was hungry and attacked her dinner with gusto. Rochford, glancing down at her rapidly diminishing plate, smiled slightly, and she wondered what amused him.
The company had seated themselves at Mrs Pritchard’s behest in strict order of rank. The various upper servants, steward, housekeeper, butler, and chef were seated at the top table with the Duke and Duchess. Three long tables were set at either end and opposite to form a rectangle. Having dined and recovered her composure, Minette bethought herself to look for Becky and to see how well she looked in the spangled gown.
Magical Masquerade: A Regency Masquerade Page 12
