Venice

by Lynne Connolly

  “Are there ways we can prevent it?” I had heard of such things, but nobody spoke to a maiden lady about such matters. Well I was a maiden lady no more and I would definitely ensure I learned more about the conditions that would affect my body and how I could better control them. I had every intention of providing my lord’s father with the heir he craved and Richard with the children he wanted to have with me, but I would not wear myself out bearing them.

  “We’ll see about that if it happens. Meantime,” he breathed, his lips against mine, “we have this, and each other, and all the time in the world.”

  I did my best to reciprocate by exploring his body, trying to find out what he liked me to do for him. I had a spot at the base of my throat which, when he kissed it, sent shivers of desire through me. He’d found it early in our relationship and used it shamelessly. I didn’t think I had found a corresponding place in him until I put my fingers on the base of his spine and drew my nails up his back. I felt him shudder and pause in what he was doing. I did it again, more firmly, and laughed when I felt him quiver again.

  “If you do that too much,” he said, “I won’t be responsible for anything I do next.”

  I cried out his name in delight, as he entered me once more, not as gently as last time, more sure of my response. I lifted my legs and wound them around his waist, determined he should stay where he was and gasped when his penetration deepened. I tightened my hold on him, then heard a particular chuckle deep in his throat—the one he made only when he made love to me. He gave a corresponding gasp, echoing the sounds I was making, combining us in ecstasy.

  This time it wasn’t gentle. His hands on my body were firm and hard. He pushed me to greater heights and joined me there. I forgot who he was, who I was, where we were.

  It went on forever, but not long enough. All too soon I felt him climax, shudder and then slump in the moment of surrender, but he didn’t leave me immediately. He opened his eyes, took his weight on his hands. I unwound my legs and put my feet back on the bed. He didn’t smile, but stared down at me wordlessly, all his exquisite elegance swept away in this torrent of lovemaking. I met his astonished blue gaze with wonder, and we stayed like that for a long time, not speaking, only our breathing making our bodies move. Then he did move and to my astonishment I felt him grow again, fill me once more.

  He laughed and I felt the vibrations deliciously in my own body. Joined together, one person. “A miracle, my love, of which we should give thanks and take full advantage.” He lifted me so we sat breast to breast, my legs behind him, his under me.

  I laid my head on his shoulder and felt the closeness, marvelling at the new thrills coursing through my body, as he loved me again. He kissed my throat. I put my hand up and touched his bright fair hair, feeling the close-cropped silken waves under my hand. I ran my hand down his back, felt his response and then felt mine, as the waves of rapture coursed through me again, and I cried out in joy. I let my body fall back into his arms, and he bent his head to kiss my breasts, taking the nipple into his mouth, brushing it with his teeth and then releasing it again repeatedly, intensifying the sensation.

  No longer capable of anything but passion, I let it take me as it would. I gasped I loved him, he was everything, he could go on forever.

  Time left us. “Oh Rose! Rose, my love, my love!” We held each other for a while, feeling our hearts beating precisely in time, then he kissed me tenderly and lowered me to the bed.

  He went and poured two glasses of wine. He drank his first glass quickly and refilled it, looking ruefully at the mess we had made of the bed, and made me laugh shakily as I too looked about.

  I sat up, and tried to straighten the covers, pulling them over us when he joined me again. He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me my glass. “You’re an astonishing lover. I discovered something of it when we made love last time. Do you remember what I said?”

  “You wanted to explore it—me further.” I sipped my wine. I was quite thirsty.

  “I still do,” he said gently. He looked down at me with a smile but then something made him frown. He took my left hand in his. “I know why you used this ring on the road, but I would far rather you used the ring I gave you from now on—where is it?”

  “On the floor, with my clothes. I wore both the rings on a chain around my neck all the time.”

  He nodded and put his empty glass down before swinging his legs out of the bed and going to search the tumbled heap of clothing on the floor. “By the way,” he said casually as he went, “your dressing room is through that door, if you need anything.”

  That was thoughtful of him. I put down my glass, crossed the room and went through the door he had indicated to a pretty dressing room, where I found the necessary. To my surprise, I wasn’t too sore, probably a result of how much I’d needed him, and his skill as a lover. Not that I’d had any intention of telling him even if I was.

  After I washed my hands, I picked up a brush and tried to put some kind of order into my hair, but it was useless. It had always been unruly, and even now only Nichols could tame it into shining compliance. I put the brush down again and studied my reflection in the mirror by the light of the single candle I had taken with me. I could see nothing different in the shadowy figure that stared back at me, although I felt everything about me had changed in the last—how long had it been? I had no idea. Hour or so, presumably.

  I went back into the bedroom, put down the candlestick and crossed the room to where he waited for me in the bed. He threw back the covers to let me in and then pulled them back over us both. The action seemed thrillingly intimate.

  He had found the rings. He removed the old one from my finger and replaced it with my own, topping it with the ruby betrothal ring. “Much better,” he said with satisfaction. “I think we can risk the wedding ring when we go out, if not the other. I don’t think Mrs. Locke would own such a piece.”

  “No, she would not. I amused myself while I travelled by making up quite a character for her. I’m not sure what Lady Strang will be like, though.”

  “The toast of society,” he said without hesitation. “If you should like it. I can help, but you have some qualities of your own that should ensure it.”

  I laughed at him. I’d never had any illusions about my appeal. “I spent years ignored at Exeter. I don’t think London will be any different. The only difference is, I don’t care now.”

  He threaded his fingers between mine. “I don’t think the people at Exeter had enough taste to appreciate you. You’ll be a great success in London after you’re presented.”

  I meant it when I said I didn’t care any more, discovering with surprise that another burden had left me. I yawned unexpectedly, and he laughed and laid me down on the cool, reordered sheets. “I think we’d better get some sleep now, sweetheart.”

  He got out of bed and extinguished all the candles. I watched him drowsily as he moved with effortless grace around the room. He wasn’t consciously aware of his movements but he remained essentially elegant. I was filled with contentment, now I knew we could sleep together without subterfuge.

  Richard rejoined me, and gently kissed me. I settled against his chest, his arm around me and sank into a dreamless sleep, knowing I too had come home.

  Chapter Seven

  I WOKE AND STRETCHED my arms above my head, aware through my closed eyes of the light, but I didn’t remember for the moment where I was until I heard Richard’s amused voice beside me. “Dear heavens, it’s a cat, I’ve married a cat.” I opened my eyes to meet his, so blue I could have dived into them.

  “Good morning,” I bade him, turning into his warmth.

  “Good morning, my sweet love. Are you hungry?”

  “For you.” I kissed his chest, the nearest part of him I could reach.

  He laughed, but lifted my face to his and kissed me properly. “If you can bear to wait a little while, I’ve ordered breakfast. They’ll bring it to us here.”

  Startled, I began to draw the c
overs away and get up, but he restrained me by curving his arm around my waist. “Not ashamed, surely, my wife?”

  “Never.” I leaned against him once more.

  “Nichols has already been in, while you were still asleep. She’s taken the cast offs away, and she’ll see something is brought through to us to eat.”

  “She’s probably used to clearing things away like that.”

  “She told you then?”

  “Bodyguards as sharp as Nichols don’t grow up in domestic service.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. I didn’t want to tell you in case you objected, but she was the only one I could get at such short notice who could look after you the way I needed.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Yes.” He gazed at me. “I don’t want you hurt. Nothing is more important than that. Nichols came to us looking for work. She had begun as a maid in a big household, but the old story happened when the husband seduced her and the wife threw her out without a character. She was working at a high-class London brothel when she visited us.”

  “Nichols?” I hadn’t imagined my tall, gaunt maid would attract much custom.

  He grinned. “It takes all kinds. But no, she was still working as a maid. She prepared the rooms and helped with the more recalcitrant customers, proving so good at the work that she did more protecting than maiding. If that’s a word. But she tired of the work, and came to Thompson’s with a forged character. Too much of that happened before we set up the agency, but Carier saw something in her and we had her investigated. I had to poach her from a marchioness, but when I asked her personally, she came to work for you. If that offends you, I will replace her, but I would rather not do so until we clear up this mess.”

  “Why should it offend me? She’s the best maid I’ve ever had. Why, she can even make sense of my hair.” I tried to run my fingers through the tangled mass but gave up. He laughed and pushed his hand into the bulk, pulling me up to kiss him.

  When the door opened, he was trying to disentangle himself. He made me laugh, but I was helpless against him while he unwound his hand. “Well now I can really say you’ve tangled me in your coils,” he said as he removed the final finger and I could turn to see who had come in.

  It was indeed Nichols and she pushed in a table on wheels, filled with pots, plates and dishes. She set out two chairs and only left for my dressing room when she’d arranged everything to her satisfaction. She came back bearing a magnificent dressing gown I had never seen before, but obviously meant for me. It was ivory satin, embroidered with flowers, in a foreign style I was unfamiliar with. I got out of bed and let her help me put it on. Not by a twitch of her face did she betray this scene might not be familiar to her, or that this was not the way I started every day. With a shock like a ribbon of cold water down my spine, I realised this might be the way I started the day from now on.

  “Good morning again, Nichols,” said Richard, his voice full of mischief.

  “Good morning, my lord.” She gave him a glance and dropped a brief curtsey.

  He threw the covers back and got out of bed. “Do you think we could have the shutters open?” Nichols went over to the windows without comment.

  I found it difficult to reconcile myself to my husband’s total disregard of servants’ sensibilities. Like many of his kind, he seemed to be able to treat them like furniture, unlike my sort, the gentry, who were forced to live in much closer proximity to them. Our houses were much smaller. He wasn’t even aware of his attitude, having been brought up to it, but I didn’t think I would ever be so unselfconscious in front of servants.

  He padded across the bedroom and went into what I assumed must be his dressing room, emerging in a few moments in the extravagant confection I had first seen at Hareton Abbey; a dark blue robe covered in tiny Chinese figures going about their very busy lives.

  Nichols poured a cup of chocolate for me, one of coffee for him, and left the room after he said, “Thank you, we’ll serve ourselves.”

  To my surprise, I found I was hungry. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “About ten,” he replied.

  I stared at him, amazed. “I had no idea I slept that long,”

  He raised his cup to his lips. “The results of the journey, anxiety, or something else, maybe.”

  I smiled. “We were awake late.”

  He laughed, watching me. “Very late. I have an idea there might be more late nights to come, but since we can go nowhere for a few days, it matters little.”

  I buttered a roll, trying not to think of it while I ate. I found the thought too stimulating to be compatible with making a good meal. “Were you awake long before me?”

  “About an hour,” he said. “I woke up, and the first thing I saw was you, so I watched you for a while.”

  I smiled. “You didn’t wake me?”

  “Why should I? You looked so peaceful, so beautiful, I would have watched you for a lot longer had Nichols not come in.”

  I laughed then, and nearly dropped my cup. “With my hair like this! And I’ll wager I wasn’t completely silent. My love, you must be besotted.”

  “I must. Totally besotted.” He turned the word into a verbal caress. A thrill coursed through me, following the route previously taken by the imaginary ribbon of cold water.

  I pursued my advantage. “This gown is lovely, but it’s not mine. Do you think someone might have left it here?” I put my empty cup down and helped myself to bacon and eggs.

  He shook his head mournfully. “My reputation precedes me. No, my sweet, I bought it for you. I remembered the serviceable gown I saw you in before and went looking for something more appropriate for you. Besides, don’t you remember? I told you I’ve never brought anyone else here. This apartment was my sanctuary, my place of peace—I came here when I couldn’t stand ordinary life any more. Only Gervase knows my exact direction in Venice, and he knows better than to ask for Lord Strang when he comes.”

  This touched me, more so than his thoughtfulness in the matter of the dressing gown. “So I’m the first woman you’ve ever brought here?”

  “To this apartment, yes.” He leaned forward and helped himself to more coffee. “Many men do come to Venice with their mistresses, but it is rather late in the season and I’m hoping that when we finally venture outside we don’t meet anybody we know. Once Carier gives the all-clear, of course.”

  “It’s highly unlikely I’ll meet anyone. Could you imagine Tom Skerrit and his mistress here?”

  That made him laugh again, and I laughed with him at the thought of home-loving Tom setting up a paramour, and then bringing her to Venice. “Where did you take your mistresses?” I asked, all innocence.

  He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “You know a well-brought-up young lady like you shouldn’t ask about those matters.”

  “But I was your mistress until we married,” I pointed out.

  “Despite my better judgement.” He lifted one of the covers. “I had apartments in Paris and here, as well as Rome, but I’ve sold them all.”

  I stared. He glanced up at me. “What a poor opinion you have of me, my love. I have no need of such places any more, and I wouldn’t insult you by taking you there. If we need such establishments, we’ll use the Southwood possessions, or buy new. Which reminds me, on our way home we should probably visit Versailles and make you known to the French court, so we will need to make arrangements for that. Should you like that?”

  I was shocked at the thought of me, a country gentleman’s daughter, being presented at one of the most glittering courts of Europe. “I don’t know. If you think I should, then I will, but I have to admit the thought of it makes me nervous.”

  “I’ll be with you,” he said softly.

  It was very generous of him to think like that. Nervousness and shyness were not often tolerated in the society in which he, and now I must move, being more frequently thought of as a sign of poor breeding.

  I smiled gratefully and, finding I had eaten enough, went through
to my dressing room to tidy up. He caught my hand as I passed him, and kissed the fingertips. Even that small touch made something inside me melt.

  I found Nichols unpacking, so I asked her to brush my hair. I sat back in the chair in front of the mirror, and closed my eyes, totally at ease for the first time in weeks. First, the unpleasant experience of my abduction, then the tension engendered by the wedding, then the long tedious journey here had all conspired to undermine any serenity I might have possessed. But it all seemed so far away now, as I sat in the little room in the Venetian sunshine feeling my tangled mass of curls being turned into a shining sheet by firm and expert hands. I felt sleek and loved, like the cat Richard had compared me to.

  I wouldn’t let her pin my hair up, or put a cap on top of it, but went back into the bedroom, where the trolley had now gone. Richard sat at his ease, waiting for me. He got up, took my hands and drew me close to kiss me and then he released me to run his hand through my hair, which he could now achieve successfully. “Such a temptation.”

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  I slid my hands under his robe and I felt him fold his arms around me, holding me tight. I put my head up for his kiss, and knew I wouldn’t be going much further than the bedroom that day.

  MUCH LATER, I LAY ON my stomach on the bed. My husband was stroking my back from the shoulders down, slowly repeating the movements, filling me with a contented, dreamy drowsiness. I was able to look around and take in my surroundings properly.

  The spacious bedroom was charming, simply but beautifully furnished in light colours with touches of gold. The bed was draped with embroidered white and blue satin, the drapes pulled well back to let in the light. To spare our blushes there were gauzy curtains at the windows that let in the bright May sunshine but ensured we weren’t overlooked. We were at least one storey up and probably more, the tops of buildings visible below the bright blue sky. The stone fireplace in the chamber appeared older than the rest of the furnishings but it was unlit, the day being warm.