Oh, my Joanna. Ye do not fool me for a moment. I know what ye want to know, and I know why. Before God, I shouldn’t tell ye this, but I can’t help myself. Because I love ye, and I can deny ye nothing.
“No,” he said, speaking as casually as she had. “Let me see…it was a place nearer Salisbury. The Wilton House.”
She gave a secret little smile, and he saw it and feared all the more for her.
Chapter 15
An Unexpected Reunion
Lady Jersey’s party left the following morning for Bath. Christopher begged off. In truth, he was tired of Bath, its little romantic intrigues and its huge public festivities.
He explained to the group that he wanted to do some reading about Stonehenge, to prepare himself to visit there the next day.
Lady Jersey—who seemed to think her hand was strengthened, now that her rival the Baron had withdrawn from the game—hinted strongly that she’d love to come with him to Stonehenge on the morrow.
Christopher, who was learning that to play dumb was his best defense, pretended not to have heard her. He said he was looking forward to going alone. People had told him that was the best way to experience its occult atmosphere.
So, to his pleasant surprise, today he had the manor house all to himself, if one didn’t count the unobtrusive servants. He ordered tea in the library, and he quickly located a book about the mysteries of Stonehenge.
Curled up in a comfortable leather chair, he did not notice the hours pass. Nor did he hear the knock on the front door signaling a visitor. But he became aware that the butler was at the front door, speaking quite sharply to someone. He was saying the Marquess was there, but he was not “at home” to visitors at the moment.
The visitor didn’t seem to grasp the distinction. Either he was there, or he was not. Which was it?
Christopher went out into the front hall to see what the fuss was about. To his shock, he saw Joanna on the doorstep, giving voice to her annoyance. It was raining heavily outside, and Joanna was soaking wet, her long hair streaming water onto the floor.
“Joanna!”
“Christopher! I was trying to explain to this man—”
“It’s all right, Benson,” he assured the butler. “Miss Bagley is an old friend of mine. Take her wet wrap, please, before she catches a chill. And more tea in the library for us, please—very hot.”
He guided Joanna into the warmth of the library, and shut the door behind them.
The butler shook his head and pursed his thin lips. Obviously, he felt that no well-bred young woman would come out alone to visit a man, much less disappear into a closed room with him, sans chaperone.
Meanwhile, Christopher was wrapping Joanna in a warm fur throw and urging her to sit by the hot fire.
“I can’t believe it’s you! How did you find me?”
“My Da said he saw you yesterday in a public house.”
“I had hoped he would tell you—”
“He did. We talked a lot about you. Christy, he really likes you, I can tell—”
“It didn’t seem that way when we parted yesterday. He was quite angry. I thought he might challenge me to a duel or something.”
They both burst into laughter, picturing Domnall and Christopher facing off against each other in a duel.
“Joanna, it’s so good to see you, to laugh with you again.”
“I’ve missed you so much, Christy. I didn’t mean what I said when we last parted. I was so hurt that you didn’t want to…well, get closer with me than we’ve been.”
“Joanna, I was thinking of you. I just didn’t want to harm you. You must know I want you—in every way a man can want a woman. I love you, Joanna.”
In an instant, she was in his arms. “Say it again, Christy. Say it over and over again.”
“I love you. I want you. Every part of you—your beautiful face, your marvelous body. You’re like a goddess to me, Joanna. I love you. I love you.”
He kissed her then, over and over. He kissed her amazing eyes and her sweet, luscious lips. He could not stop. He got down on his knees in front of her and rained kisses on her bare white neck, on her supple shoulders, on the soft curves of her breasts.
They ran their hands over each other’s bodies. There was nowhere they felt too shy to touch. They explored each other for the first time, and each one felt the sacredness of the other’s desire. They pressed their bodies tightly together, and they felt for the very first time how well they would fit together in the act of love.
Finally, reluctantly, they pulled apart. They were both gasping for breath.
“Joanna, I can’t keep this up. I mustn’t see you again. If I see you, I will want to take you. Any man would, you’re so beautiful. I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Her head against his chest, he heard her whisper something, but he could not make out the words. “What?” he asked.
She looked up at him, and he had never seen such a beautiful sight. “I said that I want you to, Christy. I want you to take me, to own me. If I never see you again, I would always have that memory. Of loving you, of letting you love me. Completely.”
He tangled his hands in her hair and looked into her face. No woman has ever been this honest with a man. Oh, Joanna, you amaze me.
Their mouths came together again, kissing and biting. They were rough with each other now, driven by their needs. Their lips had blood on them, then, when they pulled apart.
“When?” she asked.
“It must be soon, love. I leave for London the day after tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, then. At daybreak. I can slip away on horseback, as I did today. But where? It can’t be here.”
“No,” he agreed. “Not among these awful people. Look, I’m set to go to Stonehenge tomorrow. Could you meet me there?”
“Oh, Christy, my love, that’s perfect. Tomorrow is the autumnal equinox. The perfect balance of daylight and darkness. There will be magic in the Sarsen stones tomorrow.” She was joyous now, jubilant.
Oh, my quicksilver girl, with your changing moods!
“Joanna, you must go now. The others will be home soon. We’ll meet tomorrow. Stonehenge. Daybreak.”
One more kiss, and she ran out into the hall. Pausing for a second at the front door, she looked back once and smiled. Then she was gone.
* * *
It seemed she had left just in time. Later, as the party gathered in the drawing room for drinks before dinner, Lady Cullingsley said peevishly, “I saw the strangest sight as our carriage came up the drive this evening. One of those young gypsy girls, riding a horse astride, and with no saddle at all.”
“I saw her, too,” said Lord Cullingsley. “She was quite pretty, actually, in that wild, abandoned way some of them have. Quite lovely, if rather primitive. Can’t think why she’d be on the property, though.”
Lady Jersey sniffed and looked across at Christopher. From the look on her face, lately she was hearing far too much about pretty young gypsy girls for her liking.
Chapter 16
The Sarsen Stones
Christopher hardly slept that night. By turns eager and anxious, he awaited the coming day like a bridegroom awaits the altar.
He awoke long before dawn. Never vain about his appearance, still he splashed himself with water from the ewer and ran a comb through the unruly waves of his hair.
He walked gingerly toward the stables, attempting not to wake the household’s dogs. As he saddled a horse, a sleepy stableboy arose from his bed of hay and offered assistance. “Ssssh,” Christopher told him. “I’m fine as I am. Go back to sleep, now.”
The road across the Salisbury plain was empty. He reached the sacred pagan stones well before daybreak, and sat to wait for Joanna.
He did not have long to wait. Joanna came towards the stones at a gallop, her dark hair streaming behind her in the sharp wind. What had Lord Cullingsley said? That she was lovely in a wild, abandoned way? To me, she’s just beautiful. There’s not a woman in the haut ton to match
her.
He rose and met her. She slid off her horse into his waiting arms. “Should we not tie your horse?” he asked in one last effort at rational behavior.
“Nay. I let her roam free, but she always comes running back when I call her. Like me. Like I do with you.”
He buried his fingers in her long locks. “Will you always come back to me, then?”
Her eyes spoke her answer more eloquently than her voice ever could. He bent his head to hers, and there was no need of words between them. What more could they say? They knew what they needed from each other.
It was paradise to lose himself in kissing her. He praised every feature of her face with his lips, then came back again to her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her in unconscious imitation of the act of love. He felt her own tongue in his mouth, growing bold in her explorations.
Their hands, meanwhile, were not idle. They studied the shape of each other’s bodies, reveling in the unfamiliar sensations. Joanna’s hands told him her admiration of his broad shoulders, his powerfully muscled arms, his slender hips.
Christopher’s touch lingered over forbidden places he had until then only dreamt of. Joanna’s young breasts were soft and full. They responded so quickly to his touch—under her dress, he could feel her nipples harden with desire.
His mouth tasted her neck and throat. The taste and scent of her skin were unbearably sweet, like wild honey left in the sun.
He could feel that she wore no corsets or whalebone foundations beneath her dress, as a proper lady would. It was just her own body, welcoming his caresses.
He thought of her comfort then, and drew back from her. “I brought blankets in my saddlebag,” he said. “Let me get them.”
Blankets in hand, he went to spread them on the ground where they stood. But Joanna stopped him.
“Not here, Christy. Over there, under the shelter of the Sarsen stones. They’re magic. Particularly today.”
“You’re magic,” he murmured against her hair. She led him to the standing stones, and by the foot of the largest of them, they lay down beside each other.
After that, his thoughts became a blur as their bodies came naturally together.
He opened the bodice of her gown, gazing in amazement at the loveliness of her firm young breasts. He bent his head and sucked at them, drawing the hardened nipples into his mouth, nibbling at them with his teeth.
Moaning, she pulled him closer to her, cupping one of her breasts in her own hand and feeding it to him, while his hand squeezed and kneaded the other one. He slid the gown off her slender shoulders, and then she was naked to the waist before him.
She arched her back and stroked her own breasts against the rough fabric of his shirt, as if to gain some satisfaction of her need that way.
“You, too,” she whispered. “I want to feel your skin against mine.” She reached to open his shirt and pull it off him.
The feel of their half-nakedness drove him mad with want. He pushed her down onto the blanket, straddling her. He pulled her skirts up, feeling the smoothness of her bare legs. Up, up his hands went, until beneath the skirt he had her pert bottom cupped in his hands.
He pulled her against him, letting her sense the hardness of him beneath his breeches. Each struggled to get the other’s clothes off, tearing at the garments in their desperate need to come together.
Then they were fully naked to each other’s eyes. He lay her on the ground and rose to his knees, so he could see all of her.
He had never looked at a woman so intimately before. The soft curves of her amazed him. He ran his hands down her body, burning each detail onto his brain. When he reached her thighs, he shyly pulled her legs a little apart. Truly, a woman was a miraculous thing.
She did not try to stop him as his fingers delicately explored the secret place between her legs. She was hot and wet there. His fingers stroked and parted the silken dark hair, then slipped in deeper among the hidden folds. One place was harder than the flesh around it, a small swollen nub. As he ran his fingers over that spot, she cried out and arched her hips upward.
“Did that hurt?” he whispered.
“No,” she gasped. She grabbed at his hand and brought it back to the same hard little mound, making him stroke it. Her breathing had gotten labored, and she was twisting and grinding her hips to make more contact with his hand.
To tease her, he pulled his hand away from that spot and pushed his fingers deeper into her. They could not fully enter her. Of course. She’s still a virgin.
I mustn’t hurt her. I must go slowly. With these thoughts, he pulled away, remaining straddled over her. His hard member was so close to her face then that she could smell its musky scent.
A small pearl of liquid had appeared on the tip of his manhood. Scarcely understanding what she was doing, Joanna raised her head from the ground and licked off the milky juice.
Christopher lost his mind at that sensation. He had to have her. His knee wedged her thighs apart, and he thrust himself into her. He hardly heard her scream when he roughly penetrated her maidenhead. All he knew was that she was tight, and hot, and wet for him.
He vaguely sensed her matching him thrust for thrust, her hands grabbing his hips, urging him into her deeper and harder. Their pace was matched, growing faster and faster.
Finally, she yelled out, her head flung back, the blue veins of her throat swollen in the frenzy of her climax. He followed her over the cliff then, and as his hot seed filled her, he groaned her name again and again.
They collapsed into each other’s arms, fully spent. They slept.
Above them, the golden sunrise of the mystic equinox rose over the horizon, bathing the Sarsen stones in eerily lovely light.
* * *
When they awoke, the sun was high in the sky, and they were cold. Christopher carefully wrapped the blanket around Joanna. They did not speak for a while.
“Joanna,” Christopher said, “You know it can’t end like this. I must see you again. And again and again, every day of my life. You’re mine now, and I won’t let you go.”
“But how, Christy?” She rubbed at her sleep-crusted eyes like a child.
“How much do you trust me, Joanna? Would you take a big risk, to be with me?”
“Anything, Christy. I’ll do anything you ask.”
He thought quickly. “Would you come to London? I’d leave my family behind and marry you there. If you’d have me, that is.”
“Oh, Christy, how can you even ask that? Of course. You know I want to be with you always. No one can separate us now. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
They kissed sweetly for a few minutes, kisses not of passion but of love.
“But how would I get to London, Christy?”
“Can you get to Domesday St. Osmund?”
“I think so. My Da got there on foot.” Was that really only two days ago?
“There’s a daily stagecoach there to London. It costs about two guineas. I’ll give you money.”
“Christy, I don’t want your money.” She was so proud, his Joanna.
“Don’t be silly. You’re mine now. I have to protect you.”
“So I go to London. Then what do I do?”
“Ask the coachman to hail you a hansom carriage. Give him a shilling for his trouble.”
“A shilling. All right. Then where do I ask the driver to take me?”
A good question. She’ll have to stay with a woman—it would entirely ruin her reputation to do otherwise. But who? I can’t trust either of my sisters. Lady Jersey? No, she wouldn’t be too kind to a rival.
Suddenly an idea struck him. “Ask the cabman to take you to a place called the Empire. Go while it’s still daylight, not at night. When you get there, say you’re not there to work. Emphasize that very clearly, all right? You’re not there to work. You’re there just to visit an old friend of yours, by the name of Rosie.”
“Why do I have to make it clear I don’t want work? And who is Rosie?”
“Rosie is
a very sweet girl who was once kind to me when I first came to London. But Joanna—I hope you won’t be offended by this, but—she’s a prostitute.”
“A prostitute! And just how do you know a prostitute, Christopher Albertson, bloody Marquess of Clydekill? Did you— ?”
She was working herself into high dudgeon.
“No, I did not. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with like that, and you’re the only one I want. Silly goose. My father insisted I see her. But I didn’t do anything. I just sat there and told her all about you. Tell her you’re Joanna. The Marquess of Clydekill’s Joanna.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Well, it’s true. Tell her that she needs to get me a private message at Gresham House that you’ve arrived. She’ll know it needs to be a secret. Tell her I asked her to find you somewhere respectable to stay for a little while until I can come to you—a good ladies’ hotel or something like that. It won’t be for long. Then we’ll get a special license and marry secretly—wait. You are eighteen, aren’t you?”
“Last June.”
“Good. Then we won’t need a parent’s permission.”
He walked over to his saddlebag and took out a wallet. “Here, Joanna. Here are banknotes for twenty guineas, and a few guineas more in smaller coins for coaches and such things. Tell Rosie that I’ll take care of her if she has to spend any money on you.”
“Christy.” Her eyes were wide. “That’s an awful lot of money. You could buy several fine thoroughbred horses with that much.”
“I don’t need any thoroughbred horses. I need you. Now tuck it all away, Joanna. Don’t lose it.”
They sat on the blanket for a long while after that, saying very little and just feeling the closeness between them. Then it was time to say goodbye.
Tamed By The Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 10
