“Please, let me help you,” a woman’s voice said as they entered the hall.
“Is that you, Mrs. O’Rourke?”
“Yes, my lord. Lord Beckwith has opened his home to our staff as well as you and my lady. He was about to leave for his country home when the fire broke out. He offered his home to us and then went merrily on his way.”
“I must send him a note. That was most gracious of him.” He bent over and hacked away once more, in rhythm with Marion.
…
Marion was overtaken with another bout of coughing. Her shoulder ached every time she moved, and her head pounded where she must have hit it when she fell down the stairs. Every cough reverberated as though someone was taking a cudgel to her head. She tried desperately to get clean air into her lungs, but she felt as if a huge animal sat upon her chest.
“Milady, we must get you upstairs to one of the bedchambers.” Jane slid her arm around Marion’s waist and attempted to move her forward.
“Where are we?” She barely got the words out before she began to cough again. Her voice sounded as if a frog had taken up residence there.
“Don’t talk, milady. It is not good for your throat. We are in Lord Beckwith’s house, which is across from your own.”
Too tired, sore, and weak to comment, Marion merely nodded and moved forward. Mrs. O’Rourke took her other side and the three began the ascent to the bedchamber floor.
As impossible as it seemed, she was certain it had been Tristan who had dragged her out of the house. Tristan, who had told her to return to her family and who had been terrified of fire most of his life.
“Tristan?” Another coughing spell.
“Ellis and Carson are bringing him to another bedchamber. We must get you both cleaned up for the doctor’s visit.”
She allowed them to haul her to a bedchamber where a bath had already been set up. She was stripped of her clothes and helped into the tub. Jane gave her a glass of water that she sipped on, finding that if she drank it too fast it started another coughing spell. Her throat was still raw and her lungs burned as if they were on fire.
Marion placed her palms against her stomach. Hopefully all was well with the babe. Perhaps when the doctor arrived, he could examine her to make sure she hadn’t done any harm.
She would indeed have to return to her brother’s home now, since she’d burned down Tristan’s home. She must have knocked the candle over and that’s what started the fire. A tear ran down her face, followed by another, then another. Before long she was sobbing and not certain why.
“It is all right, milady. Let’s get you out of the bath and into something warm. The doctor has arrived and he’s with his lordship now.”
She was helped out of the tub, dried off, and wrapped in what must have been one of Lord Beckwith’s banyans. It was a red and brown silk print that smelled of leather and sandalwood. Nothing like Tristan’s banyans. Tears continued to run down her face. This was most likely the end for them. He had wanted her gone, she’d burned down his house, and on top of all that, he had been forced to be a gentleman and rescue her, even though he must have been terrified.
No sooner was she in the bed than the doctor arrived. “My lady, his lordship tells me you are expecting a child?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He was quite concerned for the babe’s health. If you don’t mind, I would like to have an accoucheur I have worked with before attend you to make sure all is well.”
Marion once again placed her hand over her middle. “What is an accoucheur?”
“He is a better trained midwife. All the Quality have begun to use accoucheurs since their record of healthy mothers and babies is much better.”
Relief flooded her. “I like that idea. I will be happy to see him.”
Tristan was concerned for the babe’s health? Whatever made him say that? He’d clearly told her he wanted no part of the child. Nor of her, either.
“Is the doctor through with my wife yet?” Tristan’s voice drew her attention from the doctor listening to her lungs with an unusual device that looked like a musical instrument.
“Not quite, your lordship. I will be finished in a few minutes. I advised your wife to accept attention from an accoucheur I have used in the past to make sure all is well with the babe.”
“Yes. Excellent. Do whatever is necessary.”
Marion stared at Tristan, who appeared to be quite anxious as he stood waiting for the examination to end. He’d had a bath and was also wrapped in one of Lord Beckwith’s banyans. His wet hair had been brushed, but the curls still fell on his forehead. Argos stood alongside him, and Tristan ran his fingers through the dog’s fur. How hard it was going to be for her to leave him. But she no longer had a choice. As much as she had insisted she wouldn’t return to Manchester Manor, things had changed. It would have been easy to just stay in his London house, but now that he needed to relocate to his country estate, there would be no place for her.
“My lady, it appears you have suffered only a little bit of damage to your throat and lungs which will heal with time.” The doctor returned the strange instrument to his bag. “The knock you suffered to your head bled but a little bit, and that will also heal. You will have a bump for a few days. Cold packs on your head may help. I will also leave some laudanum for you to take to help you sleep.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“I will send the accoucheur, Mr. Vargant, to attend you.” He turned toward Tristan. “Now that your home is uninhabitable, my lord, will you remain in Town?”
“No. I will be heading to my country estate tomorrow.”
“Then there is no need for me to send Mr. Vargant.” The doctor gazed down at Marion. “I suggest when you return to the country, you arrange for an accoucheur to attend you, but from what I can tell, I think the babe is fine.”
What the doctor didn’t know, of course, was that she would be returning to her family’s country estate, while her husband would be going to his. No need to mention such things to the doctor, however. She sighed and placed her hands once again on her stomach.
“Now I wish everyone to leave so I may talk to my wife.” Tristan’s clipped tone garnered everyone’s attention.
Marion’s stomach clenched as Ellis, Carson, Mrs. O’Rourke, Jane, and the doctor all headed to the door. She did not want to hear what Tristan had to say. One disaster a day was enough for her.
Once the crowd had left, Tristan put Argos outside the door and closed it, turning toward her. “Speak to me.”
“What?”
“Speak to me so I may follow the sound of your voice.”
“Um, I am over here. I am sitting in, I presume, Lord Beckwith’s bed.” As she spoke Tristan prowled, with all the stealth of a fine, sleek animal, in her direction, a slight smile on his face. The banyan parted, revealing his muscular chest, all golden skin and fine brown hairs down the center. He stared directly at her, giving her the eerie feeling he could actually see her. “Tristan?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Um. You can stop now. You’re a mere few inches from the bed.”
“Ah, but that is not close enough.” He moved the slight distance and sat on the edge of the bed, resting his bent knee on the mattress, giving her a glimpse of his bare leg. The front of the banyan tented, his erect manhood partially visible.
The smoke must still be affecting her, causing her mouth to dry up. Her heart picked up its cadence, and she began to squirm. “Did you want to speak to me?”
“Oh, yes.” He moved closer until his body touched hers, his hand pushing up the hem of her banyan, then resting on her bare thigh. She shivered as his other hand slid along her shoulders until he cupped her neck. “But first, this.”
He leaned down and took her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss that quickly turned into something fierce and demanding. He encircled her waist and drew her closer, and her heart pounded as if it were about to jump out of her chest. His hand drifted to her shoulder and slid the banyan off. The
silk landed in a swish in her lap.
“I remember how beautiful you are. Although I cannot see you, my hands will be my eyes.” He used feather touches to trace along her brows, her cheekbones, then scaled her jaw, neck, chest, and finally her breasts. He cupped their weight, then he tugged on her nipple. “You have grown fuller with the babe. I wonder what other changes he has wrought?” Bending his head, he whispered, “I shall have to investigate.” His mouth encircled her breast and he feasted.
She hummed as he suckled, her hands in his hair, running her fingers through the silken locks. This was an entirely new Tristan. Even in the early days of their marriage, he hadn’t been so suggestive in his comments. Her core grew damp, and she shifted her legs; her insides tightened in anticipation of what he would do next.
Casting off her reticence, she grasped the edges of the tie holding his banyan closed and pulled. His robe fell open and she treated herself to a glimpse of golden skin, hair-dusted muscular chest, and strong legs. He was all male beauty, strong and firm in all the right places. His cock stood proud and thick, drawing her hand to grasp its strength, gliding her fingertips over the velvety softness.
“Yes, my love, touch me. Work your magic.” He eased her back, quickly unfastened the tie at her waist, and spread the robe apart. Starting at her knees, he moved both his palms up her legs, skimming his thumbs over her mons and continuing up to encircle her waist. “You are too slender for my babe. We must fatten you up.”
What was he about? Unless the knock on her head had caused her to lose her memory as well as give her a headache, Tristan did not want this child. Did not want her and had ordered her to leave. But this man with his talented mouth and hands did not seem like a husband who wanted to end their marriage. Unless this was a good-bye coupling. She pushed the thought away. Tristan was not dishonest enough for such subterfuge.
His hands continued their journey until they cupped her cheeks. Once he took her in a searing kiss, all thoughts of babes and journeys home left her mind. His mouth was soft and strong at the same time. He nibbled at her lip, then soothed the spot with his tongue.
Tristan’s scent drifted to her, replacing the sandalwood and leather of Beckwith’s robe. Spicy and musky, she inhaled deeply, then opened her mouth at his urging. They dueled with their tongues, the restlessness in her body seeking relief.
“Ah, my love, perhaps another part of your glorious body demands my attention.”
Still caught up in wonder at the change in her husband, a soft moan was all she could manage as his hands roamed her heated flesh, then found the spot she ached for him to touch. Her body arched like a bow as his fingers found her opening and swirled around, the sound of her moisture mixed with their panting raising her temperature until she thought she would explode.
“Speak to me, my love. Tell me what you want me to do, what will bring you the most pleasure. Or shall I try something new, even if it scandalizes?”
Unable to speak a coherent thought, she merely nodded frantically before she remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she squeaked. The smoke had done a lot of damage.
He chuckled as he dipped his tongue into her belly button, then continued to kiss his way down until he reached the curls at the apex of her thighs. “Yes, I shall feast on this part of your body.” He spread her legs wide, then nuzzled her, inhaling deeply. She would have been mortified, if not so captivated by his attentions.
Marion squealed as his tongue licked her again and again until she thought she would break into a million pieces. She felt herself climbing, straining to reach a pinnacle. The feeling was glorious and frightening at the same time. All her thoughts were focused on that one spot where her husband lapped like a starving cat with a bowl of fresh cream.
Tristan stopped and blew warm air on her tender flesh. Then taking her bud into his mouth, he suckled. She gripped his head, tightening all her muscles as waves of pleasure washed over her.
Tristan rested his head on her belly as she whimpered, her body covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, her muscles like water, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Before she rested barely a minute, he moved up her body and plunged into her with a force that pushed her back against the headboard.
“Sweetheart, I will not last. Your body is so welcoming, so warm and moist. I love you so much, need you so much. Never leave me, promise you will never leave me.”
Before she could respond to this confusing statement, he covered her mouth with his and drove his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the movements of his body. Within moments, he stiffened and groaned as he emptied his seed into her.
What the bloody hell just happened?
Chapter Twenty
Tristan rolled off Marion and pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. They both fought for breath, but unlike a few hours ago, the lack of air was a good thing, derived from a feisty bout of passion. Making love had always been good with Marion, but now that he was free of the shackles that had kept him tied in knots, there were simply no words to describe his feelings.
The thought of fire no longer crippled him. He’d slayed that dragon. He loved his wife, she loved him, and they would soon have a child. One of many, he hoped.
He would work his hardest to be the best husband and father anyone could be. No longer would he feel inept because of his blindness. A very wise person once said the best thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. That would be no problem.
“Why are you grinning?” Marion said. “Your house just burned down, and we are making love in a man’s bed whom I’ve never met. Our staff is most likely unemployed, all of our personal items, including clothes, went up in flames, and Argos is scratching at the door and crying.”
Tristen threw back his head and laughed. “I love you, Marion.” He leaned over and bestowed a kiss to her forehead. “Everything is fine. We have each other, and soon a babe to bless our family.”
“Um, yes. About that. I thought you wanted no part of me or our child?”
“Oh, my love. I was so wrong. I don’t want to go one day without you by my side. We shall have a happy, healthy boy—or girl—and siblings to follow.”
She turned in his arms. “Do you really mean that, Tristan?”
“Absolutely.” He closed his eyes and pulled her closer. “There is more than one sort of blindness, you know. And I’m afraid I had the worst kind. Please forgive me. I will spend all the years of our life together making it up to you.”
She smoothed the damp curls from his forehead. “I love you so much.” The catch in her voice troubled him.
He cupped her cheeks and brushed away the tears with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. I am so, so sorry for what I have put you through.”
“I don’t understand. Why have you changed your mind? Was it the fire?”
“No, my love. I was on my way back from my club to beg your forgiveness and ask you to stay when I smelled the fire. Never in my life have I been so afraid.” He placed his palm on her stomach. “To think I almost lost you and our child. I shudder when I imagine what could have happened.”
“What will we do now?”
“Make love several more times, then sleep, then make love again, then eat, make love again, then—”
“Stop.” She laughed, the sound warming him from head to toe. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say. What I mean is, what about our smoldering house across the street?”
“My house was insured. That is why the firefighters came. They are employed by the insurance company.”
“Do you mean if our home wasn’t insured, no one would have come?”
“That is correct. The insurance company has a motivation to save as much of an insured’s burning house as they can. So we can rebuild, but I find there is no hurry to do so. I want to return to the country, anyway. The city is no place for my pregnant wife, and certainly no place to raise a child.”
“I would like that. I find after my years of solitude that city life
does not appeal. I wouldn’t mind returning to London for a few weeks each Season, but for the most part, I prefer country life.”
“Then country life is what you shall have, Lady Tunstall.”
At that moment Marion’s stomach let out with a very unladylike growl.
“It appears the babe is telling us you are hungry.”
She giggled. “I believe so.”
“Come, let us see what we can have Cook fix for us in this unknown house.”
“Tristan, that is another problem. What shall we do about the London staff?”
“They will go to the country with us, if they choose. Between us, Manchester, and Abigail and her husband, we will find places for them. Any that do not want to leave Town will receive a generous pension, along with an excellent reference.”
“Oh, what a wonderful idea.”
He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “You see, my sweet? Your husband can solve any problem that might arise.”
“I always knew that. I am glad that you now agree with me.”
Epilogue
Six months later…
Marion tucked the blanket securely around three-week-old the Honorable Miss Daisy Susan Tunstall and settled her on her lap. The early June morning was cool, but she always enjoyed sitting on the terrace with the baby as the sun rose. Given the baby’s propensity for rising early, it suited both mother and daughter just fine.
They rocked gently for a while, savoring the smell of new summer flowers and the soft breeze that tickled her face. The baby had finished nursing and was fast asleep in her mother’s arms, a slight ring of breast milk around her sweet mouth. Marion took in a deep breath and let it out, happier than she’d ever been in her life.
In the distance, Tristan walked the path through the garden, Argos by his side. Man and dog strode briskly for a while, then slowed down and meandered for a bit. It was his morning ritual, soon to be followed by dealing with estate matters. By afternoon he and Ellis would be training the dogs they kept in the kennels behind the house. When the animals were considered ready, they would be given to their growing list of blind individuals who wrote to them, asking for dogs to assist them in their daily lives.
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