The Chevalier

by Jacqueline Seewald

  She could not miss the undercurrent of irony in his voice. “I do not wish to ever speak to you again,” she said in a soft but intense voice.

  His smile was infuriating. “I’ve gone to great trouble to find you, Mademoiselle, even fought a duel over you and used great forbearance with your brother. I believe I have a right to something more than your hostility.” He moved toward her.

  “You have no rights where I am concerned, no rights at all.” She backed away from him warily.

  There was something predatory in the way he looked at her. His eyes seemed to be darkening and she had the odd feeling that he was like a lion ready to pounce.

  “I’m going now,” she said.

  “I don’t really think that we’ve settled anything.”

  As she turned, his hands reached out and grabbed her by the arms. She found that her heart had begun to pound and she was breathing rapidly. “Please don’t touch me,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “I detest you!”

  “You’re still lying.” The too handsome face loomed above her.

  “You think so much of yourself. Perhaps I might have been foolish enough to fall at your feet once, but I know better now. I am no longer that same stupid, trusting child.”

  “Of course, you’re not.” He lowered his head capturing her lips with fierce possession. His mouth was hard and soft at the same time. The tartness of desire lay like a heady wine upon his lips. He held her head with one hand while his other was tightly fastened about her waist. He was overwhelming her with his kisses, her flesh melting as if on fire. His hand moved beneath her breasts, cupping her left breast in his large hand then rubbing the nipple with his thumb until she could hardly stand it for the ripple of pleasure that shot through her. Then he was lifting her into his arms and carrying her, placing her ever so gently on the bed which smelled of fresh linens.

  She tried to rise then, to protest, but his mouth covered hers, kissing away her words. His body pressed against her, his hands moved up and down and she could not free herself.

  “Don’t fight what we both want,” he said in a quiet whisper. “We belong together. It’s been so long. I ache for you. I won’t hurt you.”

  Then he wasn’t speaking anymore. She felt her wrapper being removed and then her gown even as his hands explored her. How could she be letting him do this to her again? But he was irresistible. She began to shiver.

  She felt the unmistakable pressure of his erect member moving hard against her lower abdomen. The scorching caress of his hands on her breasts sent jolts of hot fire through every part of her body. She could hardly stand it. But she must stop him somehow. Why was she so weak?

  “Beautiful,” he said, staring down at the pink-tipped nipples of her breasts as his forefinger glided from one hardened peak to the other. “How often I have dreamt of your body.” Her breath caught in her throat.

  Then his tongue seductively stroked hers while his hands kneaded the flesh of her thighs. His fingers probed her woman’s flesh, touching, rubbing, until she was wild with the excitement of it. His mouth began to move down her body, conquering with small, hot kisses that left her a fevered, quivering mass. When his mouth moved to where his hands had been before, she writhed beneath him. His mouth was a bold invader and she could no longer resist.

  As he entered her, she instinctively began to move with him, wrapping her legs tightly around his muscular thighs as his thrusts came fast and hard. She cried out as her body shuddered with incredible pleasure so intense that for several moments she simply disappeared into it and knew nothing else. Madeline felt as if she’d shattered into myriad shards of brilliant crystal.

  Then she felt him collapse beside her as she came out of the sweet oblivion. His breath was coming in gasps and he felt clammy to the touch, but he still held her tightly to him.

  “Let me go,” she said in a barely audible voice.

  “Not ever if I can help it,” he replied.

  His words both surprised and shocked her, but she did not believe them. They were after all just words said in the aftermath of passion.

  “I must go,” she said. “I should not have come here.”

  He held her fast. “Of course, you should be here with me.” His mouth took hers again, the kiss long and deep, heating her blood once more. Her mind began to spin out of control. How she managed to pull herself free of him she did not know.

  “I am ashamed that I let you use me so again.”

  His arched his brow. “You had no pleasure?”

  She felt her face redden. “Yes, a great deal, but that is beside the point.”

  He held her around the waist and caressed her cheek. “That is exactly the point. Not every man and woman share this special kind of voluptuous gratification. What if I said that I was sorry for the way I behaved; I know that I was wrong. I am a jealous, suspicious man, who finds it difficult to trust women, and because of that, I am capable of behaving very badly.”

  “You were a beast,” she agreed.

  He pressed a lock of hair back from her forehead. “You could be a bit more generous.”

  “I haven’t forgiven you.” She folded her hands over the fullness of her breasts.

  He looked down and patted her slightly rounded belly. “I can well understand why you haven’t forgiven me. But I am ready to take responsibility; I want you to know that. I’m going to marry you. Now what do you have to say to that?”

  She got off the bed, found her night-rail and put it quickly on, following with the wrapper. He watched her with an amused expression on his face.

  “Has my proposal brought on this display of modesty?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do you want to marry me?” she asked.

  He sat up on the bed looking surprised. She could not avoid noticing the broad expanse of muscular chest covered with golden hair, the sheer physical magnificence of the man. Best to look away, she thought, forcing herself to avert her gaze.

  “Men marry for many reasons. I have no need of heirs. I am not an aristocrat. However, I would not have a child of mine born a bastard.”

  “And that is the only reason you would marry me?” she asked, a pain beginning to ache somewhere in her heart.

  “Isn’t that reason enough?”

  “For you perhaps, but certainly not for me.”

  He gave her a cool, detached smiled. “There is, of course, another reason if we are to be candid with one another. You are, shall we say, a most enthusiastic woman by nature. I am a man who appreciates that in a woman. To be blunt, we make each other very happy in bed. As I have already observed, that is not true of all relationships.”

  “But there is something more necessary to a good marriage.”

  He gave her a questioning look. She could not bring herself to say anymore. Perhaps he did not understand her implication, but it wasn’t her place to explain it. Then there was the other possibility that he was merely playing a cynical game at her expense. Neither thought pleased her. She hurried out the door, leaving him to call after her. But she was gone before he could follow.

  It had been a terrible mistake coming to see him. She should have known that she could not trust herself to be alone with the man. The worst part was that she now knew what a depraved individual she was. She was even too ashamed to confess her sin. How could she have allowed it to happen again? And the truth was, she had enjoyed it more than ever. What was wrong with her?

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Gareth would have followed after her, but he realized that no purpose would be served. She was angry with him; that was quite apparent. But what had she expected from him? Hadn’t he done exactly the right thing by asking her to marry him? Damn it to hell! What was wrong with the girl? She should have been overwhelmed by the generosity of his offer. Instead, she acted as if he had insulted her. He would never understand her. She was such a proud, little thing. There was a lot more fire in her then he had realized; he understood that now.

  Maybe she simpl
y did not want to marry him, regardless of her situation. Perhaps it was because she was a French aristocrat and he was nothing but an English commoner and a bastard at that. His father might be the most powerful aristocrat in Northern England, but he shared in none of that. It was possible that Madeline wanted only a man of wealth and title for a husband. Certainly her brother had intimated as much. If that were so, then he had truly ruined her life. Yet, if he meant nothing to her, why was she so passionate in bed with him? Still, that could merely be her nature. Lust and love were not the same things at all; he knew that better than anyone.

  The truth was, he probably was not good enough for her. Why had he proposed to her anyway? He felt like a fool now. But of course, he had to do it for the sake of the child. It should be born legitimate and not suffer as he had.

  He could not help but wonder how she felt about MacCarnan. Was it possible that she still hoped MacCarnan would marry her? If that were the case, he did not want her. He pulled himself off the bed and walked closer to the fireplace, throwing on an extra piece of wood. The room had suddenly grown cold.

  He realized that he was lying. It was untrue to tell himself that he would not want her if she preferred MacCarnan, but the knowledge made him very angry. He would always want the damn girl, always desire her, just as he had tonight.

  It was many hours before he could finally fall asleep.

  Twenty-Two

  Madeline slept late the next morning. Both her body and mind were fatigued. It was Elizabeth, carrying a tray with hot tea and porridge, who woke her.

  “Best get up,” she said. “Mother insists you have to eat.”

  Madeline wasn’t very hungry, but at least the nausea that had plagued her in the mornings when she was last in the Highlands was gone now. She accepted the food graciously, conscious of her relatives’ concern for her.

  Elizabeth sat down on the bed and they chatted as Madeline swallowed a few tablespoons of oatmeal gruel, though her mind was hardly on the conversation.

  “Andrew’s been up for hours,” Beth informed her. “He’s anxious to talk to you; you’ve nettled him some I think.” Elizabeth gave her a mischievous smile. “You can still be my sister if you want. Andrew told me his feelings for you haven’t changed. I heard him tell Mother that no one need ever know your baby is no’ his. Everything can be wonderful yet.”

  Why did that thought make her so uneasy? Of course, she should want Andrew. No man had ever treated her with greater respect or consideration. Any sane woman would be grateful that he still wanted her. Perhaps she wasn’t sane; maybe she was a lunatic – that might explain the way she felt and behaved.

  Madeline took as long as possible to prepare herself. She did not really want to talk to anyone. What she felt like doing was taking a very long walk by herself. The weather was beautiful in the Highlands; the land glowed with a radiance that was almost painful. She was aware suddenly how much more she enjoyed rural living than being part of the population of the great cities. She had lived in Paris and London, but it was here in a veritable wilderness that she felt most at home. She wished that she could just remain here in the peace and tranquility of nature. It would have been better if neither Andrew nor Gareth were in the Highlands.

  Silly though it might be since it only postponed the inevitable, she took herself off through the back of the house, through the servant’s quarters hoping that no one would see her. She virtually ran toward the path that led to her favorite loch, far away from the sounds of people and the worry they caused her. It seemed almost like a criminal act, stealing this time for herself alone, yet she was in need of it. She did not wish to be selfish, nor to cause others pain, but her soul was troubled and weary, much in need of solace. She stood upon the brae that overlooked the loch and admired the beauty of it.

  September was gone and October had just begun; there were clear signs of autumn. Leaves were coloring, and Madeline looked at them with delight. Every leaf was just a little different, she observed, just as every human being was unique. The coming of autumn always made her feel strangely melancholy and today was no different. It was so painfully beautiful. How she wished to write a great poem in celebration.

  She would have liked to bring her paints here and perhaps create an exceptional work of art. That would be the ultimate satisfaction, the creating of something original. She touched her belly and with a sense of wonder realized something along that order was happening in her body right now. She had the strong desire, the need, to protect this precious creation of hers from all harm. She understood that no matter what else happened, this was what she cared about most.

  She did not know how long she walked because her mind was lost in reflection. But when she finally returned to the house, it seemed the family had sat down to lunch, usually the largest meal of the day. Anne greeted her and brought her into the dining room. All eyes turned to Madeline and she felt uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

  “Where have you been, lass?” Andrew asked, looking concerned. “I was coming to look for ye, but Mother insisted she’d seen you go out for a walk and probably wished to be alone.”

  Madeline threw Cousin Anne a look of appreciation. It was amazing how well Anne understood the feelings of other people. Madeline was in for another surprise; when she raised her eyes, the sight of Gareth Eriksen sitting at the table greeted her. He gave her a cool, composed smile, as if it were perfectly acceptable and appropriate that he be there.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, trying not to sound upset.

  “I’m an invited guest,” he answered easily.

  She tried not to show her consternation.

  “I invited Eriksen to eat with us,” the MacCarnan said. “The man did save me from the gallows. I believe I owe him that much.”

  “Sit down and join us,” Anne insisted. “Ye must have a fine hunger after such a cavort.”

  “No, I thought to lie down for a while,” she responded, wanting only to escape the assembled group.

  “I think ye be lookin’ a bit pale and wan. It would do ye well to quench your thirst and break off a bit of bread.”

  Madeline knew that she would offend Anne if she didn’t sit down with them. She saw that the meal on the table was the best that they could offer. There was boiled mutton, batter pudding, a roasted duck, and rabbit smothered in onions, carrots and turnips. Andrew was passing Gareth a dish that she did not recognize. She looked at it with interest.

  “Did you want to try some of the haggis?” Anne asked. “‘Twill do your blood good.”

  “What’s in it?” she asked, thinking that it appeared to be some sort of a pudding.

  “Why ‘tis a special dish indeed, a veritable institution in Scotland,” Anne replied.

  Why was her cousin reluctant to tell her the ingredients of the dish – or did she only imagine it?

  “Shall you have some on your plate then?” Anne asked.

  “First, I want to know what I’ll be eating.”

  “I can tell you that,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “There’s sheep hearts and liver minced with suet and oatmeal, and all boiled in the bladder of a sheep. Isn’t that it, Mither?”

  Gareth began to choke on his mouthful of haggis and that made Madeline smile for the first time in a long while.

  “Oh, don’t you like our haggis?” Elizabeth asked with her mermaid eyes open wide.

  “I did until I found out what it is,” Gareth replied with a wry smile.

  Andrew laughed heartily. “Haggis is our secret weapon against the English – better than bagpipes or claymores.”

  Anne frowned at her son’s joke. “Our fare may be plain but I believe it to be equal to that of any English table.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Gareth intoned politely. “Truly, it’s much greater then I had cause to expect.”

  “Much better than you deserve,” Elizabeth said accusingly.

  Anne gave her daughter a hard look, and Beth cast her eyes downward to her plate.

 
; “Maddy, my gel, you’re not takin’ anything. I can have some cockie leekie brought out to you; ‘tis a good, healthy soup ‘twill stick to your ribs.” Anne’s motherly tone of voice made her smile.

  “You’re so good to me,” she said. “Please, don’t fuss. I’ll just take a bit of what’s here.”

  The rest of the meal was eaten in relative quiet, as if an uneasy truce were being observed between warring parties. Madeline could not help feeling tense, aware that both sets of male eyes were watching her.

  Andrew left the table first and went into the drawing room. She knew the time had come when she must talk to him. He deserved at least that from her. Beth accompanied her into the drawing room, unaware that a serious and private discussion was being planned.

  In the drawing room, Madeline found Andrew waiting for her. It was as if nothing had changed from last night. He immediately came toward her, then turned and gave his sister a look of dismissal. Beth, being sensitive to the feelings of others, immediately left them alone.

  “Have you been thinking on my proposal, lass?”

  “Yes, indeed I have,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “And have you changed your mind? I did not take what you said last night as your final word, far from it.”

  He came close to her now and Madeline was taken by his handsome, chiseled features. His dark red hair was straight and held back at the nape by a piece of black ribbon. His fern green eyes regarded her with warm affection. He took her hand and drew it up against his plaid waistcoat. “You’re a bonnie lass, Maddy, and I know that I would make you and your child very happy. I really would be good to both of you. And there would be other children, ours together. Of course, I’ve no’ got a title to offer anymore and no wealth either as you well know.”

  She shook her head. “That part of it never mattered to me. I know that my family would have expected me to marry with such considerations in mind, but I don’t believe in marrying for mercenary gain and I shouldn’t expect to change now.”