Velvet v-3

by Jane Feather

  Madness! But he wanted to laugh aloud. And that was not the prudent reaction of a man who walked in the lion's den and whose life presently depended upon a mixture of good fortune, experience, cool nerves, and utter discretion.

  He'd half hoped, when he left her in Paris, that distance would lend detachment, but it had done the opposite, merely intensified his addictive passion. She continued to obsess his dreams, both sleeping and waking.

  And here, on the banks of the River Nieman, in surroundings that would be more suited to a theatrical drama, she was with him again and it was the stuff of fantasy.

  Gabrielle somehow managed to get through the rest of the evening without any obvious signs of insanity. The two emperors left together as they'd arrived, in perfect unity. Benedict Lubienski made his farewells with a group of others, his lips brushing her gloved hand, his eyes opaque.

  "Well, that went off very well," Tal'eyrand declared as the last guest left. "Congratulations, ma chere."

  "On what?" she asked swiftly.

  Her godfather's eyebrows rose. "On what do you think?'

  Flustered, Gabrielle waved a vaguely dismissive hand. "I didn't mean to be obtuse. I'm rather tired."

  "I imagine you might be." He examined her thoughtfully for a second. "You seemed to enjoy the company of Monsieur Lubienski."

  The crafty old fox never missed anything! "Did I, mon parrain ?" She met his shrewd gaze and sighed; there was no point in prevaricating with Talleyrand.

  "You forget that I know how you are with your lovers, mon enfant."

  "Just two," she reminded him.

  "More than enough for a woman who loves as hard as you, Gabrielle."

  "Yes," sheagreed withasubduedsmile.

  "You were not expecting him?" His glance was suddenly sharp.

  "No." She shook her head helplessly. "I feel as if I'm in some dream world. I never expected to see him again."

  "D'accord." He kissed her cheek, and then stood back, holding her shoulders lightly.

  "I won't insult either of you by recommending caution."

  "No," she agreed.

  The door closed on the Minister forForeign Affairs, and Gabrielle gave alittle involuntary skip ofexcitement. Nothing now lay between her and the rendezvous on the nverbank.

  Chapter 22

  Nathaniel strode north along the riverbank away from the town. The air was fragrant with wild thyme, and a field of sunflowers hung their heavy golden heads, turned to the east, ready to greet the rising sun. The moon was a perfect circle in a black velvet sky, its reflection sailing over the dark waters of the river.

  The silvery fronds of an ancient weeping willow on the bank hung to the water's edge. Nathaniel pushed through the veil of leaves and found what he sought-a perfect secluded bower where the grass was cool and fragrant, protected from the burning summer sun that during the day dried the ground to a crisp and shriveled the grass to brown spikes.

  He spread his cloak on the grass at the base of the gnarled trunk and sat down to await Gabrielle, ears pricked for the rustle of hasty footsteps outside his bower.

  Gabrielle let herself out of the house and ran straight into a soldier from the garrison patrolling the street outside. She'd somehow not taken into account the fact that the town would be crawling with guards, with two such precious personages asleep within its walls.

  She identified herself and said she was going for a walk along the river. The soldier seemed nonplussed. Unescorted ladies didn't ordinarily take walks at three o'clock in the morning. Gabrielle subjected him to a haughty stare and demanded to know whether he wished to awaken the Minister for Foreign Affairs to verify her credentials? Or the emperor, perhaps?

  The soldier coughed apologetically and bowed her on her way.

  She sped along the riverbank, barely aware in her eagerness of the beauty of the night, the balmy air, the harvest moon.

  She was in such a hurry, her eyes straining into the distance for some sign of Nathaniel, his shadow in the moonlight perhaps, that she didn't see a flat stone in her path and tripped, falling headlong with a vigorous expletive.

  "Don't make such a noise!" Nathaniel sprang out of his willow cave a little way ahead as the shocked curses filled the quiet night. "Oh, dear, what are you doing down there?"

  Gabrielle pushed herself onto her knees. "Don't laugh," she demanded crossly. "There's a great big boulder sticking up in the path. It has no tight to be there."

  "No, of course it doesn't," he said soothingly. "And you've just told it so in no uncertain terms. I'm sure it won't do it again."

  Gabrielle grinned reluctantly and held up her hands. "Kick it for me. will you?"

  He pulled her up, laughing. "I might stub my toe if it's as vicious as you say."

  "Such chivalry!" She held him at arm's length, examining him with her crooked smile. "I suppose I'll become accustomed to the beard, and the silver hair is tres distingue."

  "It's only temporary." He subjected her to his own assessing scrutiny. "You look well. But thinner."

  "Pining will do that," she said, still smiling.

  "Have you been?"

  "Pining? Oh, yes."

  "So have I."

  They stood for a minute in silence, still holding themselves away from each other, almost as if they wereafraid to move closer, as if the other would prove to be only the dream phantom of the long, lonely nights of the past two months.

  Then Nathaniel said softly, "Come here." He pulled her in toward him and she came with playful reluctance. He pushed off the hood of her cloak and ran his hands through the silky dark red mane, drawing it forward over her shoulders.

  "Whenever I've tried to remember the color of your hair, I haven't been able to," he mused, frowning as he stroked it. "It changes color according to the light. Here, for instance, under the moonlight, it's like a charcoal brazier, all glowing embers. But when we go under the trees, it'll be almost as dark as the night. And in the sunlight it flames so that sometimes it looks too hot to touch."

  Gabrielle chuckled. "It goes with my temper, I'm afraid."

  "So they say." He traced her mouth with his finger. "But yours is no worse than mine, and I've no hint of the devil's color in my hair."

  "Nathaniel, I don't mean to be importunate, but how long must we continue this conversation," she said, the mock-plaintive tone doing little to disguise the husky throb in her voice. "We started something earlier, and I'd dearly like to finish it."

  "Postponing gratification is good for the soul, they say," he murmured mischievously, trailing his finger along the curve of her cheek.

  "To the devil with my soul," Gabrielle declared. "My body is already on fire, so my soul might as well join it."

  "In that case…" Taking her hand, he led her through the veiling fronds of the willow tree. "My parlor, madame. I trust you find it to your satisfaction."

  "Quite frankly, I'd find the open road to my satisfaction at this point," she said, flinging off her cloak before slipping her arms around his neck, reaching against him.

  "I am possessed with the most violent need, my love," she whispered, all teasing abruptly vanished beneath the urgency of her demand. Her hands ran over his back, remembering every curve, every muscular ripple, every knob of his spine. Her eyes closed and the scent of his skin and hair filled the air around her. She inhaled greedily, her lips parting as he kissed her, gently at first, as if he wanted to rediscover her taste and the wonderful feel of her mouth.

  Her breasts pressed against his chest, and his hands moved to cup her bottom. The firm, rounded flesh was warm against his hands, and he realized with a shock of amusement and delight that she wore no underclothes beneath the fine muslin gown.

  He drew back, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Wanton brigand," he said with soft satisfaction. Obeying the peremptory hand on her shoulder, she sank down on the cloak he'd spread earlier, her hands reaching for him impatiently.

  He dropped to his knees beside her, and without preliminary drew her skirt up to her wa
ist. Her tongue touched her lips as the cool night air laved her bared belly and thighs.

  Her thighs parted for him as he unfastened his britches and pushed them off his hips. Her hips lifted to meet him as he lowered himself upon her. He entered her, penetrating to her very self in one deep thrust. It was the culmination of their passion on the terrace and the long, tantalizing hours of anticipation ever since. A rich liquid fullness spread through her loins, her inner muscles contracted around him, and she was instantly lost in an explosion of joy that sent her spinning into the star-filled night.

  The piercing descant of a nightingale brought them back to an awareness of their surroundings. Nathaniel hitched himself on one elbow and smiled down at her transported countenance.

  "I do believe I've just made love n my boots." he said with an exhausted chuckle. "I've never done that before."

  Gabrielle was too spent to do more than stroke his face with a languid hand, brushing back the lock of hair that flopped damply onto his forehead.

  Slowly, he caressed the length of her exposed thighs, his fingers playing in the curly tangle at the base of her belly, moving over the mound beneath, taking his time now that the desperate urgency of lust had been slaked.

  "Don't do this," she pleaded weakly. "I am already dissolved."

  "But I want to," he said simply. He placed his hand over the moist, pulsing warmth of her core and bent to kiss her belly, tickling his tongue into her navel. His breath whispered over the taut skin of her abdomen and his hand seared her.

  "Please," she whispered, uncertain what she was asking for as, despite dissolution, she lifted and twisted on the cloak beneath the devastating power of his touch. And when his mouth replaced his hand, her little sobbing cries filled the dim green grotto beneath the willow as the rapturous tide swept her yet again into momentary oblivion.

  "Cruel," she gasped when she could find breath. "When you knew I couldn't bear any more."

  "But you did," he said, kneeling astride her again. "It's what happens to wanton brigands who roam the countryside at night without any underclothes."

  Gabrielle's chuckle was more of a groan. "I thought they might get in the way."

  "Such a hurry you were in," he reproved, tracing the curve of one breast beneath the muslin.

  "That was your fault for starting something on the terrace and not finishing it," she retorted.

  "I suppose I have an irrational desire to keep my head on my shoulders," he responded, flicking the dark smudge of her nipple until it rose against the bodice of her dress. "Even under the influence of near ungovernable lust."

  "What are you doing with the Russians anyway? It seems madness." She tried to marshal her thoughts for a coherent conversation but sensed that the reprieve was going to be short-lived.

  "Someone needs to eavesdrop on these negotiations," he told her blandly, transferring his attentions to the other breast. "And I have the best cover of anyone. It took a lot of work developing it, so whenever there's a particularly delicate job to be done among the Russians, I usually do it myself."

  "But it's so dangerous." Her hand clasped his wrist, whether to stop his caresses or to encourage them, she didn't know. It didn't much matter anyway, since Nathaniel shook off her hold and continued regardless.

  "Spying generally is," he reminded her evenly. "And what are you doing here?"

  "Acting as my godfather's hostess," she said.

  "And what else?" His hand ceased its delicate maneuvers and he grasped both her wrists strongly, his eyes seeming to run her through as he knelt over her.

  "Let's have it in the open, Gabrielle. If you're involved in espionage, then we can have nothing more to do with each other after tonight. It should never have happened. I swore it never would again, but I seem to be in the grip of some madness when I'm with you."

  His hold on her wrists tightened almost painfully and the glitter in his dark eyes intensified. "It won't happen again, Gabrielle. It can't. We say good-bye now."

  "I'm not involved in anything," she said. "Talleyrand needs a hostess and I'm better at it than his wife."

  "And Fouche?"

  "This isn't his field of operations," she said. "His territory is internal not international diplomacy. That's my godfather's sphere. If Fouche's men are here, it's only as bodyguards."

  Nathaniel looked down at her in frowning silence, still holding her wrists captive. He had no reason to doubt her… not this time. She smiled up at him, the gray eyes candid.

  "Why would I lie to you?" she asked quietly. "I've had no part in spying since you let

  "Why not?"

  "I couldn't seem to find the stomach for it," she said with utter truth.

  His frowning scrutiny continued for minutes, then he nodded. "Very well."

  His eyes were suddenly hooded, out she could read the resurgence of passion in them as she could feel him rising hard against her thigh.

  She reached down to enclose him in her hand, her fingers fluttering in an erotic dance along the stem of flesh, sliding between his thighs to play a tune of yet deeper resonance before guiding him within the warm, welcoming portal.

  This time, with the utmost delicacy Nathaniel held himself poised at the very edge of her body before sheathing himself slowly within the silken chamber. He knelt upright between her wide-spread thighs and stroked with firm rhythm, watching her face, watching for the moment when the charcoal eyes would deepen to ebony and a look of joyous wonder would cross the mobile features. He knew her so well, he thought, every facet of her body, every play of emotion, every response, and yet each lovemaking was a revelation, a glory of newness.

  Gabrielle smiled up at him, and he knew she was sharing his thoughts, that she too found each experience unique in its wonder.

  Slowly he withdrew, holding them both on the edge of delight. Expectation thrummed in her veins, and he could feel it in his own flesh buried deep within her.

  "Gabrielle," he whispered, and took her with him into the inferno.

  ******************************************************************

  "How's Jake? I've been meaning to ask ever since I saw you, but something else always distracted me." She smiled indolently, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. "How was he on the boat?" She plucked a succulent stem of grass from the base of the tree and sucked it with the same dreamy smile.

  Nathaniel grimaced. "The only way I could get him aboard was to carry him bodily, kicking and screaming blue murder. If anyone had been around to hear, they'd have accused me of torturing the poor mite. Fortunately, it was a calm crossing, so he quietened down; I don't think he holds it against me," he added with a wry grin.

  "And you left him at Burley Manor?" She tossed aside the chewed stem and plucked a fresh one.

  "Yes, in the arms of an overjoyed Primmy and Nurse. The entire household was frantic. They thought he'd been abducted. Miles had called in the Bow StreetRunners, and they were swarming all over the countryside."

  "I can imagine," she said, adding casually, “is Primmy still there?"

  Nathaniel pulled down a strand of foliage fromtheir canopy and tickled her nose.. "Yes she’s still there, Madame Interference. But so is Jeffrys."

  "I suppose that's all right so long as he still has Primmy," she said, wrinkling her nose under the tickling leaves.

  "Your qualified approval overwhelms me, ma'am." He released the frond, letting it spring back into the canopy, and dislodged her head from his shoulder. "It's time to make a move." He stood up and bent to catch her hands, hauling her to her feet.

  "How are we to manage?" Gabrelle asked as she shook down her skirt. She was stunned with fulfillment, warm satiation flowing like honey in her veins, and yet the need to establish some plan of campaign before they parted couldn't be postponed.

  Nathaniel picked up his cloak and shook it free of grass and leaves. "I want you to leave that up to me," he said, as calm and matter-of-fact as if they hadn't passed two transcendent hours under the moon.

  "How
?" She tossed her hair back over her shoulders, combing her fingers through the tangled ringlets. "Where are you staying?"

  "In the town. Six Vilna Street I have lodgings with a widow."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes." He picked up her discarded cloak and shook it out.

  Gabrielle filed this information away for future reference. "How will we meet?"

  "At every reception, dinner, and social engagement," he said, draping the cloak over her shoulders.

  "I mean, how will we meet?" she said, fastening the clasp of the cloak.

  "Ah… is that what you meant? I didn't quite understand."

  "Oh, don't tease!" Playfully she punched him in the ribs and he caught her wrist, clipping it behind her as he pulled her into his body, pushing up her chin with his free hand.

  "I said, leave it to me."

  "I'm to wait for you to tell me what to do?" The look in her eyes seemed to indicate that she didn't find the prospect particularly appealing.

  "I may not tell you in so many words, but the message will be clear enough if you use your wits and watch me and listen to me very carefully whenever we're together."

  He was quite serious now, and Gabrielle quashed the inclination to challenge his assumption of authority. It was his life on the line, after all.

  "You must understand," he was saying in the same matter-of-fact tone, "that if I'm discovered at any point, then you too will be in danger if there's anything to connect us."

  "You hardly need to tell me that," she said dryly.

  "But do I have to tell you to be discreet?" He pulled up the hood of her cloak, tucking her hair away. "In public, there are to be no double entendres, none of your wicked looks, no indications at all-I mean at all, Gabrielle-that we have any interest in each other."

  "What do you take me for?" she demanded.