by Gayle Eden
“With pleasure.” He proceeded to thrust so deep and fast. The climax stole upon him without warning.
While he was yet gasping, he heard her laugh huskily. Falling upon her as she rolled to her back afterwards, he whispered in her ear, “I believe I fucked you that time, Mulhern.’
“Mmmm.” She turned her head and bit his ear. “And did it very well, my lord.”
He laughed and then groaned crawling off the bed to reach the bathing chambers. “My arse is cramped.” He was hobbling to her laughter and rubbing that nice round body part.
In the bathing chamber however as he cleaned and then found a cheroot, Deme caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror. He saw a strong and swarthy male with sex puffed lips, heavy with pleasure lids, and a full thrusting cock that already wanted back inside her.
Pulling the cheroot from his lips, he turned and leaned his hands on the small vanity and closed his eyes a moment. His legs were still trembling. One week. One week was not enough.
Chapter Eight
London…
“Oh my God, I did not think you were ever coming back!” Lisette embraced Haven in the foyer of the Duke’s London townhouse. “That or we decided you and Deme had killed each other. She glared at her brother.
Hardly,” Deme drawled lazily, getting an elbow from Haven at that double meaning while he was trying to take her cloak.
“Well, you look lovely. Positively radiant.” Lisette held Haven’s hands and stepped back.
Haven was wearing a fashionable traveling suit in cream and brown and a dashing straw hat.
“You are not going to stay in the carriage house, are you? I need you, Haven. You have no idea what I have gone through...”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Lisette looked from one to the other, Haven who said yes, Deme who said no, and raised her brow.
Deme removed his own coat and murmured to Haven, “Since there won’t be a need to drag me out of the gutter, you have no excuse.”
He told his sister. “She’ll stay in one of the guestrooms.”
“Famous.”
Haven muttered, “Not in London two hours and you are already reverting to your usual high handedness.”
He arched his brow, grinning, and gave her a rub on the derrière his sister could not see. “We’ll argue about it later. I’m starved.”
He headed for the study.
Lisette, who was talking feverishly, dragged Haven up the stairs.
“And although Juliette was here, I still had to resort to drastic measures. He just will not take a hint. And Mama, why she has decided she adores him, so you see what I have gone through…”
They had reached the upper hall, the livered footmen following with her bags, and Haven was led into a guestroom, Lisette still talking while the footmen got trunks and bags inside. A maid came in and began unpacking; Haven was removing her hat at the vanity, still listening to Lisette…
“If I go to the theater he is there, or the bookshop. But most horrid of all is that he showed up at a masque ball and the salon…you know the one, not a place you’d find a bore like Marston.”
“Perhaps he isn’t.” Haden turned to regard her. “Perhaps you need to get to know him better.”
“You can’t mean it.” Lisette snorted and sat down on the bed. She looked lovely Haven thought, with her hair elaborately done and wearing a square necked low cut gown, empire style with blue ribbons falling from under the bodice. Lisette’s eyes were sparkling and her color high.
“He must feel something for you; else he would not be so persistent.”
“Ha! He’s just too obtuse—too arrogant to give up.” Lisette curled her lip. She stood. “I’ll let you get settled in. I have a lunching to attend with Mama. Something I hope Marston will not show up at.”
She left and Haven smiled at the maid who had apparently been listening to Lisette, likely had for weeks.
“Would you like a bath?”
“Yes. I have something to do first. Perhaps in an hour?”
“Very good.”
When the maid left, Haven went back down and through the kitchens, across the flagstone path and to the coaching quarters.
Her father answered on her first knock, and they were in each other’s arms, embracing and laughing in seconds.
“You look wonderful.” He said.
“So do you.”
“Come in. Tell me everything.”
She did, almost everything, leaving out the intimacy between herself and Deme, she relayed everything else, sharing a laugh with him, some pensive moments when she talked of her Aunt Jane, but in the end, Haven was glad she had gone.
“Lisette is insisting I stay in the Duke’s house.”
He smiled wryly, “That one has been a hand full since Marston came to Waverly.”
“So I suspected.”
He walked her to the door. “It is up to you. I could rent something if you prefer.”
“You should, for your retirement. You should have a house.”
He shrugged. “I’ll think on it. All that matters is that you have your future settled.”
“Well, we shall perhaps look next week, on your day off.”
He agreed.
There was a moment his fatherly blue eyes held hers and she knew he had an idea of what had occurred between herself and the Marquis.
He murmured, cupping her chin, “It was only a month and yet you left me a young girl and returned a very sophisticated woman.”
She covered his hand, took it, kissed it and was holding it tightly while she answered, “I am very happy, proud of who I am, and that is because of you, of the father you have been to me. No man will ever earn my love or regard unless he can measure up to you.”
Her eyes grew damp, her voice roughened. “I saw the sadness, the terrible memories in Jane’s eyes. I know you saw it in my mother’s. I want you to know, that as a woman, I believe that you gave her the only love and kindness, the best parts she ever had of life. She died loving us both.”
“My dear.” His eyes held tears too.
She finished, “You are an extraordinary man, who overcame much, saw your opportunities and made the most of them. You faced the worst and did the best you could for everyone. When your heart was broken, you pasted it together so you could nurture the same in me that was in you. You knew I would need the strength. Not only to live, but also to love. I am very like you, Papa. And that is something that makes me very proud.”
He loosed his hand and held her again, tightly, rocking her in those hard arms. Before letting her go he said, “Having you gave me a reason to live. I am proud of you. I am proud to be your father. You are the best thing I ever did.”
She left after he released her and went back to her quarters, taking a long bath, washing her hair. As she lay there, Haven thought, the Marques and I are home. Here we step into reality again. Our stations in life, our real worlds begin again. When she arose and dried, she looked at her body, remembering the week of horseback rides, of romping and playing like naughty children in that bedroom at night.
Memories, wonderful ones, of brushing their horses down in the stable, sitting at an elegant table together, his greeting the staff she hired and giving her a wink of approval—or her coming into the study, leaning against the door watching him work, realizing how sharp witted he was, how he really did love intellectual endeavors as much as he did the day they spent fishing. The laughter. That surprised her.
There had been that moment in a village on the way home when a comely woman had whispered in his ear. He had found her with his gaze and reached his hand out for her. She had taken it, and it was if the other woman, or any of them, did not exist.
Haven was in her dressing gown, a soft green flannel when her door opened. She gaped at Deme. “You cannot come sneaking in my bed here.”
His grin was wicked. “No?”
“No, of course not.”
He lowered himself into a chair, obviously havin
g bathed and changed into fresh silk shirt and black trousers, polished boots. Legs out, crossing his ankles, he looked her over and corrected, “That wasn’t my intent. Bed sneaking. But I am up for the possibility.”
She flushed at his meaning. “What are you doing in here?”
He laved his bottom lip. “Are you sure I can’t coax you into—”
“Deme.” She groaned.
He laughed and as she sat herself on the bed, he leaned his head back and drawled, “I actually came to inform of the latest gossip in town.”
“What?’
His eyes found her, his grin wicked. “Um, According to my parents, it’s been rumored at the clubs that the Marquis of Fielding fell madly in love with his coachman’s daughter.”
She got to her feet, her eyes wide. “Oh. Good. Lord.”
“That’s not the best of it.” He got to his feet. “He was so mad for her that she took off to York and he went after her. She became his mistress.”
“Deme. That’s not amusing.”
He thought so, and leaned against the mantle, grinning lazily, “The best is yet to come.”
“Best, are you daft? Your parents…”
“According to Mama, a Lady Westerberg was soon whispering that this coachman’s daughter was no commoner at all, but an heiress of the noblest of birth. She had, through some tragic unknown circumstance, been living incognito with the Duke and Duchess, all along….”
“Bloody hell! What an imagination.” Her hands were against her cheeks, her eyes growing wider.
He was enjoying it. “When the aforesaid rakehell Fielding developed this passion for her—whilst she was still in disguise, you see—the Lady sought the help of the Duke and Duchess, who of course, knew all along whom she really was. It was they who had sent her to York…”
She burst out laughing. “You cannot be serious. No one would make up such a thing?”
“You don’t know the ton.’ He crowed and crossed his arms. “I asked Mama how exactly it was I caught up with you, and she said according to rumor, I nearly killed my horse, riding through rain and storms to reach your side…”
Haven groaned and sat, then fell back on the bed.
He sauntered over, bracing his hands beside her shoulders, his eyes twinkling into hers. “The Duchess says that you must wear your most daring and bold get up to the theater tomorrow.”
“I didn’t plan on g—”
“We’re all attending. You and I in my box.”
“But they can correct these wild rumors and…why are you shaking your head.”
He murmured, “They have no intention of correcting it. Even if they weren’t firmly established rumors, and trust me, in a month, they have likely grown and become more dramatic.” He smiled. “You’re likely a princess in disguise by now. I killed not one but two horses to reach you, and it was caught in a snowstorm whilst fording a river…”
“Of all the rot.” She closed her eyes.
“Everyone will notice I am reformed, you know. My having no reason to visit hells and places of vice and wickedness whilst here.”
Her lashes lifted. He had been bringing his legs closer, working one between her own.
“Fine, you be reformed. I will even let them think I am your mistress. I don’t particularly care, but—”
His leg was there, between hers, and he lowered to his forearms, his mouth very close to her own. “I rather like their version of events.”
Breath tensing, body stirring, she managed, “I cannot believe your parents are fine with it.”
“They’re having a great time. You forget, we are Wimberly’s. Mother has been enjoying giving the impression that we were all part of some drama. His Grace is enjoying himself also.”
His fingers brushed through her hair. “I look forward to taking my mistress to the theater. It will certainly escape no one that I cannot keep my eyes off her.”
“We’re—back now, Deme. In or real lives. I’ll completely understand if you…”
He lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers softly before slowly giving her an intimate kiss. Moving his head, making love to her mouth, he waited until the fire built and then lifted his head. Their want; their knowledge as lovers to each other was there in that gaze.
“After the play, we will find a place where I can ease up your skirts, kiss your perfumed thighs, and soothe the ache you will have between them.”
Breathing shallow, she watched him say, “We will enjoy our time in town, attend amusements—and the ton will talk—oh, they will be afire with the talk about us.”
“Why—would you want that?”
“What is the shame in our desire for each other? What is the regret that I am intoxicated by you rather than brandy? What do we care if they see us and envy. What argument have you, against my admitting that I want, craved, you, and that I will pleasure you at every opportunity.”
“I don’t bloody care what they say about me.”
“The Wimberly’s never have cared.” He rubbed her bottom lip. “You’re a wealthy woman.”
“Yes. But I don’t intend to flaunt it...”
“Good for you.” His grin came. “But I said that because I will be showering my mistress with jewels and—”
“—Oh, for bloody Christ sakes.” She laughed. “Not that.”
“We shall see.”
“I’ll be your lover, Deme. You don’t need to enact this charade.”
He nibbled her lip, laved it, and then raised himself, his fingers trailing down her thigh where the robe parted. “I find it all rather exiting.” His finger went higher. “Don’t you.”
“I find that exciting.” She covered his hand. “But Lisette is libel to burst in here any moment.”
He grunted and stepped back. “Your most dashing get up, Mulhern. I’ve a sheering to get.” He raked a hand through his hair, and met her gaze, “Shall you like it shorter.”
“I love your hair, and shall like whatever you do. You know I think you are beautiful.”
Teasing faded from him. He watched her set up before he went and half sat on the arm of a chair, his eyes searching her face. “Can I ask something of you, Haven?”
My God, she loved it when he said her name. “Yes,” she quipped. “So long it does not involve driving necked through Hyde Park.”
He pursed his lips. “That’s an interesti—”
“Deme.” She scolded and adjusted her robe, going over to sit in the other chair.
She moved so he could sit facing her, his forearms on his thighs as he looked broodingly at her for a moment.
He finally murmured, “For the next two weeks, until Lisette’s birthday ball, will you pretend we met on that coach ride north?”
He straightened and came over, getting to one knee and taking her hands. “Pretend that what everyone says or knows of us doesn’t matter. That three’s no titles, nothing save who we are from this moment, and what we are or were—doesn’t exist.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Something in his eyes stirred disquiet in her. “What’s wrong…?”
He smiled slightly and shook his head, those green eyes intent on hers. “There is no one who understands this as you will—I would ask you to go along with my family’s wish to have you here, with us, to enjoy the amusements. I would ask…that you allow me, to be the man I might have been before…my mistake.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I can do that.”
He leaned and kissed her softly before he arose.
She was watching him leave, seeing him turn at the door and look at her again. Haven uttered, “I ache for you, Deme.” Secretly, she meant she ached somewhere else too.
He raked his teeth over his lip. “I’ll sooth it for you, darling. It will be my pleasure.”
When the door closed, she sighed and leaned her head back. Being his lover was amazingly wonderful. Of course, she would do anything to prolong having him all for herself.
Chapter Nine
Haven allowed the maid
to finish her hair, the girl having done it in rippling waves before drawing it back in a twist with ruby combs. When that was done, the maid picked up the diamond drop necklace and latched it.
Haven walked over to the full-length mirror, smoothing the deep ruby gown with black lace sleeves and lace over the bodice. The sheath skirt of the gown was elegant, and the bodice low, with just a hint of her breasts visible. Under the gown, she wore black stockings with ruby garters, black velvet pumps with diamond buckles.
Cosmetics enhanced her tawny eyes and made her lips glisten. She turned and glanced at the short gloves lying with a black velvet silk lined and hooded cape. She had dressed a bit early, because she had told Lisette she wanted to have a private talk with her.
When there was a knock on her door, the maid opened it.
Lisette came in, her smile blooming as she said, “You look stunning.”
“Thank you.” Haven supplied, “So do you.”
Lisette had on deep sapphire gown with a wide v neckline. The gown had an attached wispy overskirt that glittered with minute silver. That long hair was fashioned in the Greek style, with a sapphire band around it before it fell in long s curls over Lisette’s shoulders and back. She wore silver pumps and beautiful sapphire gloves that had silver insets.
“Will you leave us?” Haven smiled at the maid, who curtsied and quietly left the room.
Haven told Lisette. “Sit. I’ve some things to tell you.”
Frowning, her friend sat on one of the chairs. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Not really.’ Haven took the other. After a breath, she began telling her about what she had learned of her mother. She shared with Lisette how it had instigated the trip north. Watching her friend’s face, she knew the most difficult part was to come, so she simply dove in—and told her she and Deme had become lovers.
Having been pensive, now Lisette blinked, wide-eyed. “What? I thought it was merely gossip. I mean, no one heeds anything the ton says and we—”
“Don’t be upset at me.”
“I’m not. I’m well—shocked.” Lisette laughed and shook her head, looking at Haven, over her and then back to meet her eyes. “I never dreamed you and Deme. You were always at each other—”
