by Danice Allen
Tess had just finished weeding her garden, and he had come upon her while she scrubbed the fresh black dirt from the callused pads of her fingers—fingers toughened by years of work as a seamstress for Mrs. Turley, the local dressmaker. Zach had rescued her from the drudgery and tyranny exercised by Mrs. Turley and had given her the first and only taste of heaven she’d ever known.
Balmy lavender dusk was unfolding over the moor now, melting into the small window opposite the bed, throwing caressing shadows over Zach’s straight aristocratic features. Funny that the likes of her should be sharing a bed with the likes of Zachary Wickham, she thought, dropping her hand to mold her palm over his firm, sculpted breast and small brown nipple. But her mum, dead of the pox for over a year now, had always said that someone would pluck her like a dew-petaled rose and keep her plump and pretty for his own pleasure. When she reached the age of seventeen, her beauty became her fortune at last. In the six blissful months as Zach’s kept woman, she had learned to hope for nothing more.
Zach stirred, his arms unbending in a languid, awakening stretch of muscle. His eyes blinked open, and Tess basked in the sultry golden flame of his gaze. A slow, sensuous smile tilted his mouth, and he eased a warm hand under the coverlet and splayed his long fingers over her softly rounded stomach. Spears of pleasure stabbed through her at his touch, and her heart thrilled at the simmering passion in his eyes.
“Tessy,” he breathed softly, deep satisfaction resonating in his sleep-husky voice. “Lord, I’ve missed you.” He pulled her close—as close as a miser kept his gold—fitting her small slender body against the hard length of his.
“Then why’d you stay away so long, Zach? I missed you, too.” She gasped as his hand cupped her breast.
“I told you, didn’t I?” He nuzzled the wisps of yellow hair at her temple.
“You never told me anything, Zach. We’ve been abed since you came. And then you fell asleep.”
Zach’s brows furrowed slightly. “Thought I told you, Tessy. M’ brother came to Grandfather’s funeral. We’re friends now. I’ve been spending time with him. Good man, Alex.”
“I’ve heard about your brother. ’Tis the talk of the town. I’m glad for you, Zach. But I wasn’t sure if that was why you weren’t coming to see me, or if there was another reason. I was afraid …”
Zach pulled back and searched Tess’s face. “Afraid of what, love?”
Tess lowered her lashes, frightened that her eyes might betray how much he meant to her. She’d been warned that the gentry didn’t like their light-o’-loves to become too attached, too possessive. “I thought maybe you didn’t need me anymore. Didn’t want me …”
Zach chuckled deep in his throat, the warm tones comforting to Tess’s troubled heart. “I can’t imagine ever not wanting you, Tessy,” he told her, forcing her to look at him by tilting her chin with a nudge of his slender forefinger. “You’re my sweet Tess, as sweet as the scent of honeysuckle from your garden that still clings to your guinea-gold hair.” He buried his face in a fistful of crushed curls and breathed deeply, then slid his hand along the curve of her waist and hips. “And you bring me such pleasure, love. Such pleasure.” He lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth, twirling his tongue around the pink bud, sucking….
Tessy was glad, glad to bring him pleasure, as he brought pleasure to her. Perhaps that was enough. Perhaps he would not be angry if she told him.
“You’re plumper,” he said, lifting passion-hazed eyes to hers and cupping her full breasts with both hands. “Do you pine so for me that you must resort to eating apple tarts to alleviate the boredom?” he teased.
Tessy stiffened. “Does it displease you?” He had noticed the heaviness of her breasts, the slight swelling of her stomach.
“I like your body a little plumper,” he growled, capturing her mouth in a hard, quick kiss. “I’ve more to love. Just don’t puff out to the size of Mrs. Turley or our good King George.”
“No, I won’t, Zach. I want to please you,” she said, her lips tingling from his kiss.
“And so you shall, even after I marry Beth.”
Before the twisting pang of jealousy that always came at the mention of Zach’s betrothed had had time to dampen Tess’s spirits further, Zach lifted his head abruptly, saying, “Ye gods, what time is it? I’d forgotten all about Beth. She’s waiting me dinner!”
Zach pushed himself up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. Tess sat up, too, and clutched the coverlet in a wad beneath her chin, feeling suddenly bereft. Her breasts still throbbed from the teasing imprint of his tongue, and need coiled in her stomach. Yet Zachary was leaving. He strode to the pile of clothes discarded so eagerly and carelessly when he’d arrived that afternoon and dug through them to find his stockings.
Zach couldn’t imagine how he’d let the time pass without noticing the lateness of the hour. Beth would be in a pucker. She was a fiery little baggage, not complacent and biddable like Tess, and not too missish to give him a rare trimming for his tardiness. He sat on a narrow reed-bottomed chair and commenced the process of dressing himself without the aid of a valet, Tessy watching with big sad eyes.
Her large calico cat, Tom, had jumped up on the bed as soon as Zach got up, snuggling his fat, furry body against Tessy’s thigh. Tom’s slanted feline stare seemed strangely accusing, too, and Zach turned away.
He was still hard and aching with renewed passion, but Zach knew he had to get back to Pencarrow before nightfall and try to explain his lateness. Thank God he’d bought Beth’s bauble before visiting Tess, or he’d still have that to do. He had stuffed the tiny satin box that contained Beth’s gift in his trouser pocket.
“You have to go, Zach?”
Zach glanced hurriedly at Tessy, trying to ignore the fetching, come-hither picture she presented with her hair in a tumble about her alabaster shoulders, her finely etched ethereal features dominated by large cornflower-blue eyes, her lips kiss-swollen and parted.
“Yes, I have to go,” he grumbled, a barbed edge to his voice as a result of the passion he was striving unsuccessfully to suppress. “Today Beth and I …” His voice trailed off as he wondered how best to put it and finally decided that straightforward truth was the kindest course in the long run. “We’ve set a date, you see. We’re getting married in August, on her birthday. I ought to have been home hours ago.”
He darted a quick glance at Tess and caught in her expression the flash of pain that he’d expected to see after announcing his impending nuptials. Tess was a tenderhearted creature, but she knew he was going to marry Beth. She’d known it for months. He’d always made it quite clear that she was his mistress, and he had been honest about their arrangement from the beginning. Sharing him with a wife was something Tess would grow used to. The pain would ease when she realized that marriage wouldn’t alter their cozy arrangement in the least.
He tugged his stockings on and reached for his shirt, which was wrinkled past help. He had better contrive to get up to his bedchamber by the servants’ back stairs and change clothes before he saw Beth and Alex. One would have to be a simpleton not to recognize that his clothes had been discarded hastily and tossed on the floor. Alex would understand his dilemma, but Beth assuredly would not.
“But your body’s still quickened and ready for …” Zach lifted his eyes from his task and observed Tess’s flushed face, her keenly interested examination of his arousal. “Won’t it hurt when you straddle your horse?”
Zach laughed. He couldn’t help it. Despite her pain over Zach’s coming marriage to another woman, she was still so sweet, so charmingly blunt and direct. “I shall manage, Tessy. Don’t worry about me. I shall take great care, however, not to neglect you, or my need for you, for such a length of time again.”
“But I hate to see you leave in such a state,” she persisted quite seriously, scooting seductively to the edge of the bed.
“I haven’t time to remedy my … er, state,” Zach insisted, eyeing Tess suspiciously and re
aching for his pants before he’d even finished buttoning his shirt.
She stood up, and the bedclothes fell away from her into a heap on the bed. The sight of her firm breasts, fuller now than they used to be, the nipples proud and deep pink, considerably weakened his resolve. He had raised a leg to shove in his trousers, but stopped midway to stare at Tess—sweet Tessy—as she moved toward him, innocently seductive, so eager to please.
“I won’t come back to bed,” he told her sternly, looking her square in the eye to avoid the increased desire sure to result from looking at the rest of her.
“You don’t need to come back to bed, Zach,” she said, now standing directly in front of the chair he sat in. “I’ve come to you.”
Then he watched—helpless, speechless, marveling, mesmerized—as she braced her hands on his shoulders and eased her slim legs around his, sitting astride him, sheathing him in her sweet, tight wetness. Zach moaned, the trousers falling from his clasp, his hands reaching up convulsively to circle her small waist.
“Lord, Tessy,” he gasped, watching her eyelids droop with pleasure as she began to slowly rock against his muscled thighs. “You’re an enchantress!” Then he began to move with her.
Beth realized her mistake the moment she’d uttered the words. Alex mustn’t touch her, but more important, he mustn’t know how very much the sensation of his large, elegantly tapered hand closed over hers had affected her. If she acted like a frightened peagoose every time he touched her, and if she then begged him not to do it—
“Please don’t do what, Beth?” Alex prompted her softly, his keen dark eyes compelling her to speak the truth.
A warm sea breeze belled the Venetian lace curtains at the open window, bringing with it the heady fragrance of clove pinks and roses from the garden. A bead of wax, like a creamy teardrop, sidled down the slender taper that flickered at their end of the table. The servants had withdrawn long since, and silence hung about them like an intimate shroud.
Beth pulled her hand away and laughed, the false trill of amusement jarring the quiet and breaking the confiding mood that had developed between them. “Don’t worry about Zach neglecting me,” she said gaily, bracingly. “I’m made of much sterner stuff than you give me credit for. I don’t resent the time you spend together,” she finished with a bold-faced lie.
Alex continued to observe her silently, his wide, shapely lips tightly and grimly compressed, as if he knew of her falsehood and was sorry for it. Why did she feel as though he knew her very thoughts?
“I admire your attitude, and I’m grateful for it,” he offered finally and with a remote politeness that pricked at her pride. How could he have known that she was lying? He smiled then, a smile as false as her own, but dazzling nonetheless. He had probably conquered the hearts of many of the eager chits who populated the marriage mart during the London Season with just such a smile. But she much preferred his other smiles, especially the one that lit his face with warmth and sincerity.
“Why don’t we go into the drawing room?” she suggested, afraid yet eager to resume their former friendliness.
Perhaps if they avoided the topic of Zach they would do better. “Unless you wish to drink some port?”
Alex’s mouth slanted with mild distaste. “I seldom drink alone. And I’m not so egotistical that I would enjoy my solitary company for any length of time. No, I shall accompany you to the drawing room,” he said, then added wryly, “Zach may still honor us with his presence.” Alex pulled a gold watch from an inner waistcoat pocket and observed the time with a frown. “’Tis ten o’clock. When does your mother expect you home?”
“She is attending a musical party at the Smiths in Camelford. She said ’twill be an early evening and she will bring the carriage ’round for me about twelve.”
Two hours. He had yet two hours to resist her, thought Alex, tugging at his collar as if it were a shackle about his neck. He had loathed the necessity for her dishonest response to his question earlier, but he ought to have been glad of it. Too much truth between them could be dangerous. Of course she resented his intrusion into their lives. She would have had to be a saint not to resent Zach’s constant attendance on him. And Alex knew she wasn’t a saint. Saints did not spy on naked men. The trouble was, that dash of deviltry only made her more alluring.
Now if only he knew that what he’d seen in her eyes earlier was really desire. Or would it be better if he didn’t know? Either way, divining Beth’s thoughts was an exercise in futility. She belonged to Zachary, his beloved brother. But his beloved brother was a damned fool who didn’t recognize and appreciate the jewel Beth was.
He stood and pulled out her chair, cursing the hell-spawned temptation that made his gaze linger on the white swell of her bosom. Then he followed her into the drawing room, his eyes resolutely fixed on the portraits of stern-faced ancestors lining the walls. Their dark Hayle eyes seem to mock him, saying, “Just like your father’s side of the family, you have a Wickham’s callous disregard for Zach’s tender feelings. She’s soon to be his bride, you scoundrel!”
Beth sat down on a gold brocade settee near the fire, but Alex did not join her there, choosing instead to dispose himself in a chair opposite her, his legs negligently crossed in an attitude of languid elegance. If he could not deny the wrenching, growing knot of longing for her, at least he would not show it outwardly. The imagined accusations of his pursed-lipped ancestors echoed in his brain. He would not hurt Zach, as his father had done. No, he’d never hurt Zach.
Perched on the edge of the settee, Beth looked as uncomfortable as he felt. She smiled tentatively and opened her mouth to speak, only to be forestalled by the appearance of Stibbs.
“Yes, Stibbs?” said Alex, raising a deliberately haughty brow at the hatchet-faced butler. Even after several weeks at Pencarrow, Alex was still forced to intimidate Stibbs into appropriately butlerlike behavior.
“Mr. Wickham has instructed me to tell you that he will be joining you shortly, after he has rid himself of the dirt of the road.”
Beth pivoted in her seat, a radiant smile wreathing her face. “He’s back, then? He didn’t meet with an accident, I hope?”
Stibbs looked much put upon to be required to make a reply to such imbecilic questions. “I believe he would have been bloodied or bruised if such had been the case, miss. He is neither, and I can only surmise that he did not meet with any sort of mischief on his journey.” Then Stibbs bowed, minimally, and left the room. As he passed into the hall, Shadow eased through the opened door and pranced eagerly to Alex’s side. Alex dropped his hand over the arm of the chair and stroked the dog’s thick white coat.
“Oh, I’m so relieved that he’s back and safe!” said Beth, her blue eyes dancing. “I can’t wait to hear what kept him so long. Zach attracts adventures the way flowers draw bumblebees!”
“I can’t wait to hear, either,” drawled Alex, his black eyes slitted in a fair imitation of drowsy ennui. Anyone who looked closer, though, would have wondered at how brightly the inky orbs glittered behind the drooping eyelids.
Zach was in a rare tweak. He had looked everywhere, but the small satin box that contained Beth’s cameo pin was nowhere to be found. He’d even sent servants to the mews to scour the straw scattered on the stable floor. Maybe it had fallen out of his pocket when he dismounted his horse. Or maybe he’d lost it somewhere between Pencarrow and St. Teath! Tess had distracted him so thoroughly that he hadn’t even checked for it when he finally left the cottage.
Damn! He had thought of using the gift as an excuse for his lateness: He had considered telling Beth that he’d spent the entire afternoon searching for the perfect gewgaw to bedeck her fair self. He hadn’t picked up the first piece of jewelry he saw, either, but the moment he clapped eyes on the simple, elegant cameo brooch he had known it was eminently suitable for Beth. And that was within fifteen minutes after he’d walked into Mr. Bean’s Emporium of Fine Jewels, a tiny shop that belied its grandiose appellation.
Zach paced t
he thick Aubusson rug that covered his bedchamber floor, stroking his chin in thought. He’d bathed and changed hurriedly into a crisp white shirt and cravat and a brown frock coat. His champagne-colored pantaloons were stretched taut along the smooth length of his legs. He supposed he could tell Beth that he’d discovered the gift missing before leaving St. Teath and had spent hours looking for it there. It seemed as likely an excuse as another, though he hated the idea of telling her an out-and-out whisker.
Omission of certain facts—such as declining to discuss one’s mistress—spared a delicate female’s sensitivities, but outright lying stuck in Zach’s craw like a piece of fetid meat. He would tell her the truth, he decided finally, but in such a way as not to expose himself.
He descended the stairs with a slow step-pause, step-pause, practicing his opening lines like the impassioned orators who walked the vaulted halls of the Houses of Parliament before each session, practicing their speeches to the Lords. Then, when he entered the room and saw Beth standing expectantly, happily, to greet him, guilt swooped down like a hungry vulture. She wasn’t even angry.
“Zach! We were worried about you! Why are you so late? Did your horse throw a shoe? Did you meet a friend in town?”
Beth stood before him, her small hands clasped together in an unconscious gesture of lingering anxiety. A tiny frown marred the smoothness of her brow. She waited trustingly. She would believe anything he told her. He had worried for nothing. Yet her trust in him compounded his guilt.
Over Beth’s shoulder, Zach saw Alex lounging in a chair, his gaze averted. A niggling feeling of irritation swept over Zach. Alex ought to be helping him out of this muddle. What were brothers for if you couldn’t count on them when you found yourself in the suds?
“Well, Zach?” Beth prodded him, genuinely concerned.
Zach stepped forward and took Beth’s clasped hands in his, untangling the fingers and pressing her palms together between his own. He locked his gaze with hers. “I’ve a number of reasons for being late, Beth, each one insignificant in itself, but all of them together proving to be deuced annoying. I met with a friend, a friend I hadn’t seen for an age, and spent entirely too much time in … this friend’s delightful company. Then, in my haste to get home for our celebratory dinner, I managed to lose the gift I bought for you at Bean’s Emporium. Alas, my love, I fear it’s gone for good. I’ll have to buy you another when next I visit Mr. Bean’s establishment.”
