“If you were present more often, my lord, you might discover more.”
If Richard hadn’t been on show, he might have whistled through his teeth. As it was, he could barely suppress his intake of breath, which I noticed because I knew him so well and saw his waistcoat buttons glitter. “I believe I’m present at all the most vital occasions. Wouldn’t you say, my dear?”
He only called me “my dear” in that superior tone of voice when he wanted to provoke me.
Joaquin gave an easy smile. “How would you know that, my lord?”
“My wife assures me that she doesn’t lie.” He took my hand, lifted it to his lips. “I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t take her word.” Leaving room for doubt.
I repressed my shiver at the touch of Richard’s lips. I could hope his reaction mirrored mine, but I saw no sign of it. Apart from a gleam in his eyes that could have been a trick of the light and the way he moved his head just at that moment. I gave Joaquin a full-bodied smile. He blinked and smiled back, his handsome face improved by the expression of surprised delight.
Had I given an invitation? Had he taken it? I rather thought he had.
I decided to stir the pudding. Or the lemon cream, since that had begun the discussion. “My husband isn’t with me every hour of the day.” We had gone far enough. I wanted to draw him out, not seduce him in reality. I had to pull back to see his reaction, so I picked up my glass of wine and studied it, the ruby depths glinting in the candlelight. I took care to display my hand to its best advantage. “This is very fine wine.”
“I shall ensure you have a case or two to take home with you.” That was Paul. When I glanced in his direction and thanked him, I saw bewilderment line his features, which I guessed must be from our play just now. And something else that I thought was probably anger. With whom? I knew when his attention turned to his brother and the glint became a spark.
I decided to start again with something innocuous, to gauge his response. “Your gardens are unusual.”
“You like them?” Lizzie said, then laughed when I didn’t reply at once. “Don’t worry, it took me some time to get used to them. But I like them now. Fewer flowers, more greenery.”
“And in such unusual shapes.” I would have said more, but it would have been unseemly. The shapes reminded me of things perhaps they should not, and maybe my imagination was too vivid. Private matters concerning intimate relations between men and women, men and men, women on display. Richard’s low chuckle told me he’d understood, and the heat rushed to my cheeks.
“Some people say,” Joaquin chipped in, “that they were designed that way. To remind people of their origins and their reason for being. Rumour has it that in some houses, from a height, the gardens resemble other images.”
“I’ve heard of some in England,” Richard said. “Though I’ve never seen any for myself.” He glanced up from contemplating his glass and flashed a hard smile. “I believe that if any had existed, I’d have seen them. My reputation isn’t entirely spotless.”
“I’d heard that.” Joaquin gave him the same hard smile in return. “I have to admit, my lord, when I discovered that my brother was marrying your sister-in-law, curiosity overcame me and I…did a little research.”
“I would expect nothing less.” As Richard reached for the decanter, the brilliants on his waistcoat glittered, sending reflective sparks over the highly polished table. “I also researched Paul. Although I didn’t research you. I only read that your family was wealthy and well-connected. We must look after our own, must we not? And once Rose married me, she became mine to defend and protect. As did the people who mean most to her.”
As if I were a thing rather than a person. Although I knew he’d phrased that sentence to that effect, the sentiment still rankled with me. I should not concern myself with it, but it was a measure of my recent weakness that for an instant I allowed it to reach me. I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again. I changed my sharp retort to something else. “I believe he researched me before he offered for me.”
“In a way, yes, my lady. Though you gave me little opportunity.” What could make me sound like a rapacious miss actually disguised his true meaning, and this time I didn’t misunderstand him. It had been a source of constant amusement between us that I had seduced him, the philanderer, not the other way around. And it was true. I’d prepared the place I planned to do the deed and enticed him there, then made it almost impossible for him to leave. The remembrance of that wonderful afternoon made me heat. I could only hope I hadn’t revealed my feelings.
I looked up, straight into Joaquin’s dark eyes, and allowed my response to Richard’s seemingly innocent remark show. I would let him misconstrue it if he wanted to. “I have always been more impetuous than I should be. My husband has had occasion to remind me of that.”
Joaquin stared at me, his smile slow but calculating. “I consider impetuosity a virtue in a woman. It adds a liveliness of spirit that I enjoy.” He glanced at Richard then back at me. “Allow me to show you the gardens tomorrow. You might find that you like them, after all.”
“I might.”
Chapter Nine
“I saw your reaction to my claim on you. Are you not mine, sweetheart?”
Richard came up behind me and took the brush from Nichols. I caught her gaze in the mirror. She dropped a light curtsey and left.
He stroked my hair slowly, running his fingers through it, touching my scalp with caresses that made my whole body tingle.
I told him what lay in my heart. “I’m wholly and completely yours. For always.” However long that would be. I only just cut off saying that I’d love him for the rest of my life. Not a suggestion I should make at this moment.
“You shouldn’t say that.” He swept the brush through my now-smooth hair. “I love doing this. I always have. You have beautiful hair, soft, silky, almost alive.” I knew how much he loved brushing my hair for me, how sensuous he found the experience. That was why he’d avoided such little intimacies recently. I gloried that he’d relented.
“Like Medusa’s?”
He chuckled. “I don’t see it writhing with snakes. More sliding through my hands like the finest silk. If it were alive, it would consist of tiny, beautiful creatures. Or maybe those lovely, elegant snakes, ones that will coil around me and ensnare me.”
I wasn’t sure I liked that. “I never tried to ensnare you.”
“You didn’t have to try. I was yours from the first moment I saw you.”
That was true, although I hadn’t known it at the time. “As I was yours. But I had no idea. When you spoke to Gervase back in that dusty courtyard, I thought you were laughing at me.”
“Appearances are often deceptive.” He laid the brush gently down on the dressing table. “As we have learned and sometimes used before now. As we did tonight.”
When I got to my feet, he didn’t step back, as I’d half-expected he would. Instead, he took me into his arms. I leaned against him, my head resting on his shoulder, savouring the heat of his body.
He took a sharp breath. “My love, I know I’ve kept you at a distance. I know it has to change, but be patient with me. Let me take this at whatever pace feels comfortable.”
“Yes.” I was so glad to have him back and that he was making the effort to restore our relationship to what it once was. I decided on a light tease.
“Do you think I should let Joaquin escort me around the gardens tomorrow?”
“If you do, I’ll follow you as a jealous husband should, so you won’t be in any danger of falling for his charm.” Amazing how a man as flamboyant as Richard could remain unseen when he wished.
“What do you think he’ll do?”
“Try to seduce you.”
I didn’t like the calm way he said that. “Do you want him to?”
“What do you think?”
Without warning, he turned his head and seized my mouth in a savage kiss. I opened for him immediately, my desire as great as his, but his
mastery too much for me to do anything except respond. But I remained wary, in control. I didn’t want him to have an excuse to move away, to reject what I could offer him. I would tease him. By now I was desperate, and I tasted Richard’s surrender.
His lips left mine, but he didn’t move away. His breath skimmed across my lips when he spoke. “How far will you let him go? Will you kiss him like that?”
“I—I don’t know. If he asks nicely, perhaps I will.” I caught my breath at my own audacity, but we both needed this. The challenge, left open for so long, required an answer now.
His eyes gleamed with blue fire. Dangerous, exciting. “You will not.”
“Should I let him take me in his arms?”
His embrace tightened, the muscles going taut in his forearms. “No. Not if you want him to keep them.”
“I have to give him some encouragement.”
“You will let him escort you in order to tell him who you belong to. You’re mine, you hear?” This was not the time to remind him that he hadn’t wanted what belonged to him. Not now. But I should have known him better. “I know, my sweet. I will try, I swear. Our current situation will change. It has to.”
I raised a brow and shook my head as well as I could with it pillowed against his shoulder. “I won’t hold you to anything. I won’t ever do that to you.”
His voice gentled, although his breath was still ragged. “Do what, sweetheart?”
“Betray you. You should know that.”
“I don’t deserve it, but I do know that.” He kissed me again, this time his lips as soft as a kitten on snow. He drew away reluctantly. “Whatever we do, however I behave, never doubt that I love you. With everything I have. All I’ve done recently is because of that, and it’s because of it that I will change.”
“Because I want you to?”
“Because you want me to. Because I want it. Because I can’t bear not to any longer.” He gave a wry smile, the corner of his finely sculpted mouth lifting at one corner. “I made you a promise, and I intend to stick to it. Only you, as long as we both live. And probably afterwards too. I can’t imagine being with anyone else now. I never want it.” He kissed me again, like a man addicted, forced to against his will. Another sweet kiss, but I opened my mouth for him and touched his tongue with mine. He took my invitation and responded, caressing my mouth, savouring it. The quiet groan he gave reverberated through me.
Our bodies pressed together. I had removed my outer clothing and donned my robe. He was dressed similarly but still wore his breeches under his knee-length silk robe, and his shirt.
All our remaining garments were light, nothing hidden between us, so I felt his arousal harden against me and I loved it, welcomed it back. I wanted him so much, but I had to take care, say nothing, do nothing that would remind him of my weakened state, that would drive him away. I hated the necessity, but I would get my reward. Soon he would come to me as his right, would take me without hesitation, without taking overmuch care. I knew he’d look after me this time, treat me like porcelain, maybe, but I would have him whatever, however he wanted it.
He broke away, staring at me. There was no restraint in his gaze now. His eyes seemed darker in the candlelight but burned with a desire I recognised. If he stopped now, I would die.
“Rose, I love you. Now and always. You saved me, you gave me my life back, after I’d so nearly thrown it away. I was on the road to a fast death when I first met you. I’ll do anything you want. But I’m afraid.”
I knew that too. It took a brave man to confess his weakness, a man sure of himself and who he was talking to. “There’s no need. Remember, and keep telling yourself. We will make no more children.” The doctor had told me solemnly, and I recalled the man’s astonishment at my delighted response. I was relieved. After an ordeal like the one I had been through, I imagine many women felt the same but didn’t express it quite so willingly. Who would want to go through that again? The difference was that I knew my husband would welcome it too. As he did now. His shoulder muscles lost a little of their tension.
“I know. That is what is giving me the courage now. After Helen was born I didn’t want to put you through childbirth again, but you persuaded me. This time I will not do it. Never, ever again.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“There is a chance. A very small chance, he said.”
My heart sank. He must have asked him separately. “I don’t think so.”
“I consulted elsewhere to confirm it. The possibility is remote, but it is there.” His voice lowered, cracked on the last word, but his gaze remained clear and steady.
He was persuading himself out of it. I wouldn’t let him. “I refuse to believe it. Even if we did conceive, I can birth a child fairly easily. It was the childbed fever that nearly killed me, not the births.” The fever hadn’t struck until a day after I’d given birth and the doctor and accoucheurs had declared themselves happy with my state of health.
“Besides, it’s the wrong time of the month.” How many women had said that only to discover they were wrong? But I would use anything to keep him here, keep him passionate, keep him wanting me. There was one way to ensure that. Stop him thinking, keep him aroused and needy. I happily set myself to the task, and he didn’t object.
When I moved the sides of his robe, a tantalising vee of skin revealed itself. Since he’d removed his stock and neckcloth, his shirt gaped open down to his breastbone. I leaned forwards, tasted his skin with a flick of my tongue and let him hear my moan. “You taste so good. I’ve missed that so much. Your taste, your texture.”
I found the belt that held his robe together. It should have been held closed with the frogged fastenings at the top, but Richard often merely used a silk belt he’d had made, knowing it would come off soon enough, and the frogs could be an impediment that took too long.
He sucked in air through his teeth. “Rose, oh God, you can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what? Touch you? Taste you?” I pushed his robe off his shoulders and tugged his shirt free from his breeches. I wanted it off. Pausing only to ensure he’d undone the buttons at the now-plain cuffs, his valet having removed the fine lace ruffles he’d sported earlier, I drew it up and over his head. He helped, running his hands through his tousled blond waves to push his hair back from his face. The shirt dropped to the floor, unheeded by either of us.
I kissed his chest, loved that hardness, the sheer masculinity of him. His chest hair was slightly darker than that on his head, reminiscent of the hair that surrounded his manhood. The thought of it made me moan again. I touched a nipple with the tip of my tongue, and it responded, hardening to the size of a small button, the kind that fastened secretly under a garment, the tiny, unseen ones that kept the whole garment together.
He cinched his arms around me again, pressing me against him, his powerful body shuddering with need. “God help me, but I can’t hold back anymore.”
“I don’t want you to. Don’t. Take me, Richard, just as you used to.”
Growling low in his throat, he bent and swept me up before carrying me the couple of strides that brought us to the bed. Nichols had already turned the sheets down, so he placed me on them and followed, lying beside me. That in itself felt good, but I would savour that later. Now was all about passion and need.
I let all my barriers down, all my yearning free. He could see anything he wanted, take what he wanted, but I would take in return. The time for waiting was over. Now was ours.
He bent to kiss me and I embraced him, slid my hands over his skin, the satin heat tantalising me, promising more. I loved the way his powerful muscles flexed, the changing textures poetry under my hands. He moaned as my hands mapped the beloved area so long lost to me. In truth I had not done this for half a year, as I’d grown very large with the triplets and I couldn’t bear his weight. Or much else, for that matter. Now, down to my old self, or rather, less than that, I felt him like I was coming home.
But not in a comfortable, sooth
ing way. That might come later, but not now, God, not now. I arched up to him, and he lifted off me, his legs bracketing mine. “I want to see you now. See what I have.” He smiled. “You’ve changed, and I’ve not seen you properly.”
True enough. He rolled off me and helped me with my robe, but I wouldn’t let him remove my shift until he’d taken off his breeches and underwear. I feasted my eyes on his body as he exposed it for me, his taut, rounded buttocks, the dip above it always one of my weaknesses. I loved to shape it with my hand, feel the smooth curve with the leashed strength beneath. He groaned and half-turned his head, smiling at me. “Your turn.”
I dragged my shift over my head and cast it aside.
I was never ashamed, afraid or shy with Richard, but this time apprehension tightened my throat. I had changed, and not for the better. My stomach was now completely flat, if not concave, my breasts smaller, and I had hollows inside my hipbones. My collarbones were too prominent for beauty, and I constantly tried to disguise them these days with jewellery and fichus. I had few of those silvery marks that come as the skin shrinks back to its usual size after pregnancy, so I was lucky there. The hairs on my arms prickled as my self-consciousness increased.
Richard stared. We had retained the two branches of candelabra on the night table and the dressing table, and the candles in the holders above our heads were also lit, so I was too brightly illuminated for comfort. I had wanted him to fall on me, take me with hunger, but the pause while he removed his remaining garments had provided a natural break. Now he looked at me.
A smile spread slowly over his lips. “You are so beautiful. Always. I’ve missed you so much, missed seeing you, touching you.” He hid nothing, his erection proudly displayed, the flesh darker than the rest of his skin. As I watched, a bead of clear moisture seeped from the tip. I wanted to lick it off, and my tongue touched my lower lip as I thought it. He groaned, low in his throat. “Don’t, sweetheart. You’ll unman me.”
Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 Page 10
