Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8

by Lynne Connolly

  “You have to preserve yourself, let me care for you—”

  But I had to respond to that remark. I snapped, “Like veal in aspic?” I hated veal in aspic. Slimy and cold. “You want to keep me wrapped up against all danger? You can’t, Richard, it’s impossible.”

  A small pause, then, “I know.”

  His hands left my body and the stays fell away. I caught them and dropped them on the chair, then bent to retrieve my gown and drape it over the chair too. I unfastened my petticoats myself.

  I stood in shift and under-petticoat, still wearing stockings and shoes and my hair pinned up in its knot on the top of my head. Keeping my gaze on his face, I reached up and took out the pins, one by one. I knew the action lifted my breasts. It would make the nipples press against the thin lawn fabric. I would force him to suffer.

  Because of my earlier thoughts, my nipples had peaked, and as I moved, the extra sensitivity made me shiver. He stared at me, his eyes cool but a small frown furrowing his brow. At least I’d had some effect. Desperation filled me.

  “Do we stay like this forever?” I asked. “Do we draw further apart until you can’t bear it anymore and search for something outside the marriage bed?” He opened his mouth to protest, but I wouldn’t let him speak yet. “It would be meaningless, and that’s what you’d tell me when I found out. Because I would find out, you know that, don’t you? There are people longing for it to happen, for you to stray, people who will run to me to see how I’m taking your betrayal. And I’ll have to smile and pretend I don’t care, just as other wives do. You’ll be sparing me, you’ll say, stopping me from bearing more children, wearing me out with childbirth. During my time in society, I’ve heard it all, Richard, and the excuses, and I’ve seen the hurt in their eyes.”

  I couldn’t keep my tears back any longer, and I didn’t see the point anymore. I let them fall but didn’t wail. Just let them trickle slowly down my cheeks, leaving hot trails behind.

  “I’ll never do that.” He sounded sincere, his voice steady. He was sincere. But I knew he needed the closeness we had shared, if not making love, then intimate relations. I wanted the true involvement we’d had, the love and sharing, not just the making love. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to wake up in his arms, to kiss him good morning. The lack of it was driving me insane.

  I wanted to shock him into returning to me. I remembered something that had crossed my mind once, briefly. “And I’ll be alone. After a surfeit of lovemaking, suddenly I’d have nothing. Richard, what if, one day, I see a man with your eyes? What if I grew lonely enough to turn to someone else?”

  Shock forced his eyes to dilate and the lines around his mouth to whiten. But to do him justice, he didn’t turn away. He must know I was close to breaking. I had shown him everything, only stopping when I could hold my voice steady no longer.

  “You cannot. You know what sexual relations will mean—” Now his voice shook. “You can’t fall pregnant again.”

  “It’s an excuse.” I knew several ways to avoid children, and in any case, I’d had childbed fever. “The doctor told me that nine out of ten women who’d had what I had end the illness sterile. In others that might be unfortunate, but not in our case.”

  “There’s always a chance. Always. And I can’t lose you.” He took my hand, stroking his thumb across my palm in a well-remembered gesture. “It’s still me, sweetheart.” His voice softened, gained that rough edge I loved. “I can’t look at you without wanting you. Touching you is almost impossible because I want to do this—” He dragged me close. His arms locked around me, crushing my breasts against his chest, and his mouth collided with mine, needy and hungry. I welcomed him with everything I could.

  Starved, I lifted one hand and pushed it under his wig, which fell to the floor with a thump. I threaded my fingers through his short, fair curls. Sleek to the touch, softer than the finest Chinese silk. He tilted his face to one side, taking my lips in a clearer, more complete melding.

  I moaned and he responded, not breaking the kiss as he hummed. My tears dried from his body and the heat he was generating in mine. His erection rose hard between us, pressing insistently against my belly, and because I had undressed, I felt every ridge, right to the cap at the head. Oh God, I’d missed that. Those lover’s touches, absent these last three months and more. It might as well have been three years, thirty years. A desert of longing.

  His hands, up to now in hard, knuckled fists against me as if he still tried to resist, opened and spread over my back, encompassing all of my being. During our history together we had the truth that our bodies spoke to each other, never failing us in the tide of desire and togetherness. From our first kiss in the coach house in Yorkshire, we’d fitted like this. That kiss had persuaded my body that I belonged to no other, that I could give myself to nobody but him.

  I opened my mouth, and his tongue thrust in, firm and possessive. I tasted him in return, boldly played with him, tongue against tongue, the sensitive buds tasting. He sucked at me as if he’d thought of nothing else, wanted nothing else, needed me to continue his existence.

  When his mouth left mine, it was so he could kiss down my throat and find the sensitive hollow at the base. He teased me there, his grip loosening so he could stroke and then cup one breast through the fabric of my shift. Shivers racked me, and I gasped his name, pushing my body into his, desperate to feel his skin against mine once more. His tongue caressed and demanded, and I imagined all my nerves standing on end and screaming for his touch.

  Emboldened, I palmed his balls, felt his hard, hot length. Something inside me seemed to loosen, just as he’d loosened my stays for me, and I gave myself up to him.

  That was when he gasped, “No!” and thrust me away.

  I took a step back, my eyes wide. I’d tugged at his shirt, which now flopped loosely under his waistcoat and over his breeches.

  His mouth was slightly open, his breath coming in short gasps. “Now you see,” he said. “Now you understand.”

  He turned and left the room, and a moment later I heard the slam of his stateroom door. I stared at the door linking our bedrooms. Other doors, other places, we’d never locked them, but this one we’d never unlocked.

  I didn’t understand at all. Not one bit.

  Chapter Four

  Considering the state of affairs on London’s docks, this wasn’t the most salubrious part of the city, either. I didn’t hold much hope for our landing point, but even that appeared more respectable than Rotherhithe and the Isle of Dogs. The same type of rough man hung around, but they seemed not to have the air of menace I’d sensed at home. Or maybe my imagination gave the inhabitants of a foreign town a romantic glamour. Perhaps a Portuguese would give a similar connotation to our dockers. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

  The royal palace dominated the part of the quay that we approached. Gracious buildings with mansard roofs in the French style flanked a large, regular structure, framing a huge courtyard. I enjoyed the sight, with the autumn sun gilding the rooftops, and people coming and going about court business. We would probably make an appearance, if only to pay a courtesy visit to the king. He was out of the city at the moment, so we could postpone that visit, although I’d like to see the building in more detail.

  We were to land at the brand-new quay, the Cais das Pedras, built of marble and very grand, standing adjacent to the palace. I ignored the wind whipping past my cheeks in favour of viewing the spectacle of our landing. The quay jutted crisply into the choppy sea, inviting us to land with its air of firm confidence.

  Shaken from my recent encounter with Richard, I fixed the expression of interested welcome to my face and waited on events. We had the luxury of doing so. Other passengers from other vessels gazed around, bewildered and concerned, but I had the confidence of knowing that either we would be met, or we would procure a vehicle to get us to our destination. I never underestimated that and remembered what it was like to be alone, stranded and afraid and with insufficient funds or standing
to obtain what I needed. It had only happened to me once, in Exeter years ago, but I had never forgotten the experience.

  I saw all this as we approached the landing pier in a small boat rowed by some of our crew. We arrived at the base of a flight of steps, more like a ladder in truth. One of the crew led the way and then I went next, followed by Carier. It surprised me that Richard allowed Carier to take his place, but perhaps the manservant gave him little choice.

  I was aware that Carier knew of my husband’s qualms and care of me, and I also knew that he agreed with me, that Richard should relax his attentions. I only knew because I had learned to interpret his movements and expressions, and I am sure nobody else understood his opinion. My maid, Nichols, treated me as usual now and only gave me the care she considered I needed, for which I was grateful. I have observed that women frequently have more idea than men of how to treat others and deal with illness.

  I climbed onto the bare planks that formed the pier and staggered. Carier quickly moved to place his hands on my waist from behind with a murmured, “If my lady will allow…” and then I understood why he had followed me up the stairs. He realized what my first reaction to dry land would be and acted to support me without fussing unduly.

  Richard climbed up. He appeared remarkably and somewhat annoyingly steady. I repressed my irritation when he didn’t stumble. I felt the pier move under my feet, but I was no longer sure if the movement came from my imagination or reality. Probably a combination of the two since piers were rarely completely unmoving. If I closed my eyes, I found it made the sensation worse, so I snapped them open again, and my gaze fixed on a figure at the end of the pier.

  A woman stood there, leaning on the arm of a tall man. She was fair, wearing a fashionable gown and mantle, green and darker green. My sister, Lizzie.

  I had missed her so much, and not until this moment did I realise how badly I’d desired her presence, someone I could entirely trust to talk to frankly. Despite my making some good friends recently, Lizzie remained my best and most trusted friend. Nobody else would ever take her place.

  Richard dropped my new shawl over my shoulders and arranged it becomingly with a few flicks of his fingers. When he offered me the support of his arm, I could take it without stumbling, although I still had the sensation that I should move my hand an inch or two farther than I actually did. I gripped the coat, defying the fashionable do-not-touch demands the garment seemed to make, and essayed my first step.

  Once I remembered to adjust my expectations and pretended that I didn’t feel the earth move, I progressed more steadily. I would have run into my sister’s arms if I could, and I saw from the broad smile she wore that she was ready to welcome me. In fact, I found it pleasant to watch her, to take in her expression, to see how much she had changed.

  I could have said good-bye to her yesterday, for all the changes I perceived in her. Perhaps her bosom, swelling above the fichu tucked into her gown, was a little more pronounced, and her figure more womanly, but her face appeared as lovely as ever. Lizzie had always attracted more admirers than me, but not just for her appearance. Her lively nature drew people, and her lack of vanity, while still retaining a healthy respect for the way she looked, increased her attractiveness.

  From her letters I knew that liveliness hadn’t changed, and I was glad. Portugal and Spain had a reputation for being more staid and grave than England. It appeared that hadn’t affected her, unless she curbed her natural joie de vivre in certain circumstances. For underneath, Lizzie had a more practical nature than I had ever possessed. She had always said that she would marry for companionship and the abilities she could offer a future husband, but when she met Paul, Marquês de Aljubarrotta, she had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love. Not instantly, as I had with Richard, but over time. She’d married him and moved to his home country.

  And now I saw for myself how happy he had made her.

  I took the last two steps at a faster pace and abandoned Richard to throw myself into her arms. I cared not that I should behave with more circumspection in public. Her warmth enveloped me, and I gave her a kiss on each cheek, which she returned. Then I stepped back to hold her at arm’s length, laughing and crying at the same time. “You look so well!”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again.

  I smiled. “You don’t have to say it. But I’m much better than I was and recovering all the time.”

  “You always wanted to lose weight.”

  I shrugged. “It’s coming back.”

  “For which I am very thankful,” Richard said from behind me.

  Like most men, Richard preferred curves on a woman, but he would have to wait for me to regain mine. I’d had no appetite as I recovered, not surprising since I’d spent most of that time in bed, but with movement my hunger returned and I could satisfy it once again. Unlike my other hunger.

  Lizzie gave me another hug and I turned to greet Paul. I had learned during his sojourn with his mother in England that his notions of correct behaviour weren’t as rigid as some of his compatriots, so he was unlikely to condemn me for greeting my beloved sister before him. Richard grew up understanding the nuances of behaviour at the highest level of society, but I had to learn it, and I had discovered there was always something new to trip me up. Richard probably knew exactly how to address the King of Portugal, should we meet him. I had no idea. I relied on my sister to tell me.

  Paul stood over six feet tall. He was dressed in dark, rich garments that contrasted amusingly with Richard’s blue. But both had the air of the aristocrat, the disdain of the very air they breathed that only a lifetime’s training could instil. They greeted each other with the reserve men who liked each other but didn’t know each other very well showed. That at least I could recognise.

  I curtseyed, and Paul tucked his hand under my chin to tilt it up. I smiled and he smiled back, his fine lips curving into an expression that transformed his face from the haughty lord to the amused man. A twinkle lit his eyes, and in that instance, he reminded me why Lizzie had fallen so hard for him. Once she’d met him and got to know him, nobody else would do, and he had since admitted that he was smitten the moment he set eyes on her. But unlike Richard and myself, they went through a courtship before they declared their intentions. And I had the word of my sister that they didn’t anticipate the wedding day. Again, unlike Richard and me.

  “We will help you back to perfect health,” he assured me as he helped me steady my feet. “By the time you leave us, you will be fully recovered.”

  “I didn’t have to come, but it seemed like a good idea. You have three new people to meet,” I reminded them.

  The second boat had arrived, the one carrying the babies. Each baby had an attendant, and they carried them towards us in a little procession. Although Helen could toddle, I had instructed her nurse to carry her. I would have carried her myself, but I had the feeling Richard would have forbidden it. He rarely forbade me to do anything, with the result that when he did, I listened. And he was right this time. The planks under our feet were uneven, worn and splintered, pale from the constant application of salt water, despite the magnificence of the design of the dock. But I was glad to see my babies safe.

  At Lizzie’s delighted laugh, I turned my head to meet her gaze and smiled. “I’m the mother of four. All alive, all healthy.”

  Only I heard Richard’s fervent response. “Thank God.”

  I didn’t let him know I’d heard his sotto voce comment. “Three boys and my beautiful Helen,” I said.

  I waved the nurses on. They paraded past us, an exhibition of our fecundity, but so much more than that. The babies’ characters were forming already. I could have told them apart in the dark, just from the sounds they made and the way they moved. Lizzie and Paul gave admiring noises, and I knew that at least Lizzie understood my obsession.

  Before I fell ill, I’d had time to touch and hold my babies. That, I think, helped to create a bond that went deep, so that even though I wasn’t feeding the
m myself, I could tell when they were hungry, tell when they were uncomfortable, tell when they were bored and wanted to play. Helen had been more difficult to understand, or perhaps I wasn’t as experienced in the ways of infants, but I understood my boys perfectly.

  My motherin-law had wanted me to leave one behind! Any one, it didn’t matter, just one that would inherit if we all perished at sea. The woman was near to mad with her obsession with family and dynasty. Worse than any pharaoh. We treated her order with the disdain it deserved.

  Paul and Lizzie led the way to a pair of handsome crested coaches. Paul had brought servants who would help Carier supervise the unloading of our luggage, and all we had to do was travel to the house. Richard had hired an establishment in the centre of Lisbon. Paul had selected it and assured us it would serve our purposes. Lizzie had wanted us to stay with them for the whole of our time here, but Richard would have none of that. It wouldn’t do, he told me. We had to have an address of our own. While I didn’t understand why, he did, so I was content to abide by his advice. He understood protocol much better than I did.

  “It’s a neat house,” Lizzie told us as the coaches jerked into action. “A town house much like the one you have in London. But I would like to ask you a favour.”

  Richard raised a brow, but unlike most of our acquaintances, Lizzie did not allow his autocratic gesture to quell her sunny mood. Richard probably didn’t mean it, in any case. He liked Lizzie.

  Lizzie gave him her sweetest smile. “I thought you could see the house, rest there today and overnight, but I’d love you to come to stay at our palacio for a while. Sooner than you planned. The house is in the hills where the air is fresher. We have gardens and plenty of room.”