by Jane Feather
"I suppose I am a little." She stood up. "I'm glad the evening was a success."
"What about Charlie?" Sally asked. "Wasn't he going to play macao this evening?"
"Yes," Judith replied with a touch of constraint. "I hope he also profited from our sessions." She touched her brother's hand. "I don't need an escort, Sebastian. My chaise is waiting outside."
Sebastian knew she was telling him she wanted privacy, and he acceded without demur. He'd find out what was troubling her when she was ready to tell him. He escorted her to the waiting chaise with the Carrington arms emblazoned on the panels and kissed her good night.
Judith sat huddled in a corner of the carriage as the iron-wheeled vehicle bumped and rattled over the cobbles. She felt chilled, although there was a rug over her knees and a hot brick at her feet. Chilled and bone-weary, although she knew the weariness was of the spirit, not of the body. Intermittent moonlight flickered through the window, shedding a cold pale light on the dim interior… as cold and pale as her spirit, it seemed, in the fanciful reverie of her unhappiness.
Millie was waiting up for her, but the comforting warmth and soft lights of the firelit bedchamber did little to cheer Judith. "Help me with my dress, Millie, then you may go to bed. I can manage the rest myself."
The abigail unhooked the gown of emerald silk and the apple-green half slip embroidered with seed pearls. She hung them in the armoire and left, bidding her mistress good night.
Judith sat in her petticoat in front of the mirror, raising her hands to unfasten the emerald necklace and remove the matching drops in her ears. The connecting door opened with a shocking abruptness. Marcus stood in the doorway in his dressing gown, his eyes glowing like black coals.
"No!" he said.
Judith dropped an earring. It fell on the dresser with a clatter. "No what?"
"No, I do not wish we'd never met," he stated, striding into the room to where she sat on the dresser stool. Slowly she turned to face him.
His hands clasped her throat, his thumbs pushing up her chin. He could feel the slender fragility of that alabaster column warm and pulsing against his ringers. "No," he repeated softly. "Although you're an inflammable, brawling wildcat with a tongue so sharp I'm amazed you haven't cut yourself, I could never wish such a thing."
Judith found she couldn't say anything. His eyes burned into hers and the violent, jolting current of their sexuality ripped through her.
"And you?" he asked. "Do you wish such a thing, Judith? Tell me the truth."
She shook her head. Her throat was parched and she could feel its pulse thrumming against the warm clasp of his hands. "No," she whispered finally. "No, I don't wish such a thing."
He bent his head and his mouth took hers as his hands still circled her throat. The power of the kiss blazed through her like a forest fire, laying waste the barriers of her soul, the thin defenses she might have put up to save herself from extinction in the power of his passion. She was lost in the kiss, his tongue possessing her mouth, becoming a part of her own body, and her skin where it touched his seemed no longer to belong to her.
Without moving his mouth from hers, he drew her to her feet with his hands around her throat. She obeyed blindly, inhaling the rich scents of his skin, tasting him in her mouth. He moved her backward until she felt the wall behind her, hard against her shoulderblades.
And then he lifted his mouth from hers, and she seemed to be drowning in the great black pools of his eyes, existing only in the tiny image of herself in the dark irises.
"Raise your petticoat."
It was the softest command, yet each word rang with die force and promise of fierce arousal. Slowly she drew the soft cambric up to her waist.
"Part your legs." His hands fell from her throat, opening his robe, revealing the erect shaft, poised for possession.
Obeying the jolting charge of lust, swept along on the turbulent current of passion, she moved her legs apart. Still holding her petticoat at her waist, she braced herself against the wall as, without preliminary, Marcus drove deep within her. His eyes held hers as he moved himself inside her, his hands resting lightly on his hips. Only their loins were touching, only their eyes spoke.
The black eyes seemed to swallow her as his body took control of hers. Judith felt herself losing herself, her identity, all will, joined to a power outside herself. A power that pleasured as it mastered. Her head fell back against the wall, her throat arching, white and vulnerable above the scalloped neck of her petticoat. Marcus took his hands from his hips for just long enough to pull the top of the flimsy garment down so that her breasts were bared. He nodded, a small nod of satisfaction, as he gazed down at the exposed creamy swell. He felt her submission, the yielding of her body to the power and will of his. A wave of triumph crashed over him, taking his breath away, and he surged within her as if he would make her a part of himself, indivisible, transcending her separateness, the secret parts of herself that she kept from him. For this moment, he had tamed his lynx… for this moment he had her bound in the chains of a delight that was in his hands to give or to withhold.
Slowly he withdrew to the edge of her body, holding himself there. Her eyes pleaded for his return but she remained mute, locked in the deep sensual silence of this world they were creating. He disengaged, and her little gasp of loss broke the silence, but he placed his hands on her hips and turned her to face the wall, fitting himself against the small of her back as she shifted to accommodate him, positioning herself so that he could slip easily within her again.
Her breasts were pressed to the wall, her cheek resting against the cool, cream paint. Denied eye contact, she was now totally possessed, submerged into his being. And Marcus gloried in an ownership that grew and fed upon the sensual purity of this union.
It was as if he had limitless resources that night. His powers of invention were unbounded, his drive and energy infinite. He commanded without words; only his hands indicated what he wanted of her, and she followed direction as blindly and willingly as if she were bewitched. There were times when she knew herself to be entranced in some fairy ring. Again and again he brought her to the outermost limit of pleasure, to the fine boundary where pleasure bordered upon pain, so intense was the delight. Again and again she surged beneath his body, his mouth, his hands, as he showed her an internal landscape she hadn't known existed; and in showing it to her, he entered the secret chambers of her soul.
There would be other nights… other times when Judith would take the initiative, would make her own demands and in their satisfaction satisfy in turn, but for this night, Marcus was both inventor and master of their pleasure. Through the hushed reaches of the night until dawn grayed the sky they moved silently around the room, from floor to bed, chair to couch. Sometimes she lay beneath him, sometimes over him. Her skin identified the slight roughness of the carpet, the nubby brocade of the chaise longue, the damask smoothness of the bed sheets.
Finally he laid her down on the polished, cold wood of a long rosewood table. The flat surface was hard against her shoulder blades, unyielding beneath her buttocks as he raised her legs, lifting them high onto his shoulders as he plunged for the last time deep into her body, in a fusion so complete that she could no longer tell where her own bodily limits ended and his began. The long silence of the night was at last broken when their elemental cries of a savage and primitive fulfillment mingled in the room.
Judith flung her arms high above her head, her hips arced, holding him inside her through the wild, pumping, climactic glory, then her body seemed to collapse, to go limp and weak as a newborn foal's, and she lay unseeing, unaware, a sacrifice to passion upon the cold flat altar of the table.
It was a long time before Marcus had sufficient strength to scoop her from the table and carry her to the bed. He didn't know whether she was asleep or unconscious, so deep and heavy was her breathing, so limp and relaxed her body. He fell down beside her, sinking into the mattress, as sleep rolled over him.
Judith swam upwa
rd from the dark depths of exhaustion about an hour later. She lay in the graying light, neither asleep nor awake, as memory returned to make sense of the night's excess of sensual joy. Vaguely she remembered that at the last, Marcus had not withdrawn from her body. Had he intended it that way, or was it simply that the night's loving had not admitted of such pragmatic, pedestrian concerns?
Sleep reclaimed her.
18
"How kind of you to call, Lady Carrington." Letitia Moreton smiled at her guest from the depths of her cushioned chaise longue. "Your brother isn't with you today?" Her complacent gaze rested on her daughter, sitting beside the window with her embroidery. Harriet was looking entrancingly pretty in a round gown of sprig muslin. Thoughts of weddings played most pleasurably in Letitia's head these days. Lady Carrington's brother had been making his preference for Harriet obvious, and with such a connection, Harriet would be assured of entree into the first circles.
"No, I haven't seen him today," Judith said, drawing off her gloves. "I was wondering if Harriet would care to drive with me this afternoon?"
Harriet gave her a quick, shy smile.
"Of course she would be delighted." Letitia spoke for her daughter. "Run and change your dress."
Harriet hesitated for a minute. "I understood Lady Barret was to call this afternoon, Mama. She promised to bring the topaz ribbons that we bought yesterday… the ones I left by accident in her barouche."
"Lady Barret will understand if you're not here. Now don't keep Lady Carrington waiting."
Harriet obeyed without further demur and Judith said reflectively, "Lady Barret's most attentive to Harriet. You must find it a great comfort to have such a friend, ma'am."
Letitia sighed. "It's such a trial to be so invalidish, Lady Carrington. And Agnes has been most kind in chaperoning Harriet."
"Perhaps you'll allow me to act as chaperone occasionally," Judith offered. "Maybe Harriet would like to accompany me to Almack's for the subscription ball next Thursday."
"Oh, you're too kind." Letitia dabbed her lips with a lace-edged handkerchief soaked in lavender water.
"Not at all. We'd be delighted if she'd join us for dinner beforehand. I'll send Sebastian with my carriage for her."
"Oh, you mustn't put yourself to such trouble."
"But I'm certain my brother will be only too happy to escort her," Judith said, offering a conspiratorial smile. It was returned with more than a hint of self-satisfaction.
"Ah, Harriet, that was quick." With relief, Judith greeted Harriet's return to the salon. "What a very dashing hat."
Harriet blushed. "Your brother was kind enough to compliment it."
Judith chuckled. "I can imagine. It's very much a Sebastian kind of a hat." She rose from her chair. "If you're ready…"
Outside, Harriet regarded the high-axled vehicle with some trepidation. "It's quite safe, I assure you." Judith mounted easily and held her hand down. "I can safely promise that I won't overturn you."
"No, I'm not in the least afraid of that," Harriet declared, bravely taking the helping hand and climbing up to sit beside Judith. "But it's most dreadfully high up." She regarded the restless bays with the same trepidation. They were tossing their heads, bridles jingling in the crisp autumn air.
Judith felt their mouths with a sensitive movement of the reins. "They're very fresh," she said with a cheerful insouciance that Harriet couldn't begin to understand. "I didn't drive them yesterday so they're anxious to shake the fidgets from their legs." She told the boy holding them to let go their heads and the pair lunged forward the minute they were released. Harriet shuddered and suppressed a cry of alarm. Judith drew in the reins, controlling the plunge and bringing the animals to a sedate walk.
"That's better," she said as they swung around the corner into a busy thoroughfare. "I'll give them their heads when we reach the park."
Harriet made no response to this declaration of intent, but clutched her hands tightly in her lap as a curricle dashed past, narrowly shaving the wheel of the phaeton. A scraggy mongrel ran between the wheels, a dripping piece of meat in its mouth. It was pursued by a red-faced man in a blood-smeared apron, waving a cleaver. One of Judith's bays reared in the shaft as the dog dodged its hooves and the smell of blood from the meat hit the horse's nostrils. Harriet emitted a tiny scream, but Judith calmly steadied her horse, peering down into the street to see what had happened to the dog. "Oh, good," she said. "He managed to escape. I wouldn't fancy his chances with the butcher's cleaver, would you?" She laughed, glancing sideways at Harriet. "Oh, dear, did that scare you?" she said, seeing the girl's white face. "I promise I can handle these horses in any situation. Marcus made me do all sorts of things, including driving a bolting team through a narrow gateway, before he was satisfied I was competent to drive this pair."
Harriet gave her a wan smile, and Judith took another tack. "Do you like to ride?"
"Oh, yes, and particularly the hunt." There was real enthusiasm in the girl's voice, and Judith heaved an internal sigh of relief. Sebastian was a bruising rider to hounds, and it was hard to imagine him with a soulmate who regarded the sport with the same apprehension she regarded perch phaetons.
They turned into the park, crowded with fashionable London. Judith watched with some amusement a young lady in a dashing driving dress struggling to control a pair of blacks between the shafts of a phaeton, while a visibly anxious groom sat beside her. Not every young woman who had rushed to emulate the daring Lady Car-rington had her ladyship's skills. Those who did had formed an exclusive circle with Judith at its center. Judith raised her whip several times in greeting as one or other of these friends passed, and drew up several times to acknowledge other acquaintances, introducing Harriet where necessary. Harriet seemed to enjoy the attention and soon began to relax, chatting openly about her life, her family, her likes and dislikes. She had a ready sense of humor, Judith discovered, and it gave ample opportunity to hear her entrancing, musical laugh.
"I believe Lady Barret's waving to us," Harriet observed as they started their second circuit.
Agnes and Gracemere were standing on the path, smiling and waving. Judith drew rein beside them, saying pleasantly, "Good afternoon, Lady Barret… Lord Gracemere. As you sec, Harriet and I are enjoying the air.
Gracemere raised heavy-lidded eyes to Judith's smiling countenance. That now-familiar shark of interest darted in his gaze as he offered her a conspiratorial smile. When she fluttered her eyelashes at him, his smile broadened.
"I was coming to call in Brook Street, Harriet," Agnes said. "To bring back your ribbons."
"Thank you, ma'am," Harriet murmured. "It was so careless of me to forget them."
"Oh, young people have other things on their minds, I'll wager," Gracemere declared with an avuncular chuckle that sounded to Judith more like the cackle of a hyena.
"Do you know, Lady Carrington, I really think I must ask you to take me up beside you." Lady Barret stepped up to the phaeton. "It's such a dashing conveyance. His lordship will be happy to bear Harriet company, I know, for one turn."
Judith felt Harriet tense beside her. Glancing down, she saw the girl's gloved hands tightly clasped in her lap. "There's nothing I'd like better, ma'am, bur I most solemnly promised Lady Moreton that I'd return Harriet within the hour. On another occasion, I trust you'll do me the honor."
Harriet's hands relaxed. Lady Barret's smile stiffened, her eyes chilling with unmistakable annoyance. Judith's own expression remained blandly affable.
"I shall hold you to your promise, Lady Carrington.
Until later, Harriet." Agnes bowed and stepped back, laying her hand on Gracemere's arm. He, too, bowed, and Judith dropped her hands, setting the bays in motion.
"You don't care for Gracemere," she said without preamble.
Harriet shivered almost unconsciously. "I find him loathsome. I don't understand why a woman of Lady Barret's sensibility should make a friend of him."
And not just a friend. But that Judith kept to herse
lf. "His manner's a trifle encroaching," she said.
"He's forever trying to walk and talk with me. I can't be uncivil, of course-especially as he and Lady Barret are such particular friends-so I don't know how to avoid him."
"Mmm." Judith said nothing further on the subject, but Gracemere's intentions were clearly worth exploring. If he and Sebastian were rivals for the heiress, it would add another knot to the tangle. Presumably, a rich wife needn't interfere with Gracemere's liaison with Agnes. If they deceived Sir Thomas, there was no reason why they'd scruple to deceive a young wife.
She encouraged the bays to a smart trot, weaving her way through the curricles, tilburys, and the more sedate laundelets and barouches thronging the carriageway. When she caught sight of Marcus approaching, driving his team of grays between the shafts of his curricle, she slowed her horses to a walk. An idea occurred to her that would nicely kill two birds with one stone.
"Harriet, I've just remembered an errand I must run immediately. I'm going to ask my husband to take you home."
"Oh, ho… no, please, it's not necessary… I'll accompany you," Harriet stammered, utterly daunted by the prospect of enduring the Marquis of Carrington's exclusive company. What could she talk about with such an intimidatingly lofty member of the ton?
"You'll find it a dead bore," Judith stated. "And I know your mama will be pleased to see you escorted home in such irreproachable fashion."
Harriet looked up at her, startled, but then a glint of comprehension appeared in her eyes. "Yes, I'm certain she will," she said.
Judith smiled at her, well pleased. Harriet was quick on the uptake.
Marcus reined in his horses and the two carriages drew abreast of each other. "I give you good afternoon, madam wife." He greeted her with a narrow-eyed smile that spoke of many things before bowing to her companion. "Miss Moreton." Harriet blushed and returned the bow.
"Marcus, you're the very person I need," Judith said. "I've just remembered an errand I must run immediately. It'll be a great bore for Harriet, so you may escort her home for me."
