Tuesday's Child

by Jeanette Baker

  He stiffened. "You are seeing me."

  Tess shook her head. "I want to see your leg. I want to know how you're able to move the way you do with only one leg." Her hands slowly pulled the quilt down.

  "Don't Tess."

  She ignored him. As the quilt exposed new skin her mouth followed, nibbling, sucking, tentatively exploring down the flat expanse of chest and tight stomach, the protrusion of hip bone, the length of his straining sex. When he would have reached for her again, she stopped him.

  Frustrated, throbbing, humiliated, he lay down again, waiting for her mouth to continue its downward journey. Heated softness touched his thigh, his knee and the calf of his good leg. She moved down to his foot, licking the arch, sucking each toe. James could hardly breathe. He had never been so hard or so sore. He had never wanted a woman more. Christ, he had never been so afraid.

  She shifted over him, working her way down the other leg. Again, he felt her mouth on his thigh, the back of his knee and then unbelievably on the aching swollen stump that served as his left leg. Gently she laved him, her mouth and tongue healing the hot flesh, pressing tiny kisses on the smoothness where there should be none. Then she made her way up again, over the long expanse of muscled flesh, until her lips found his heat. Covering the tip with her mouth, she sucked experimentally. James gasped, lost the last remnants of his control, and came immediately.

  Later, she rested her head against his chest inhaling the clean scent that always clung to him. "I'm worried about your mother," she confessed.

  He could feel her eyelashes tickle his skin. James faced an interesting dilemma and he didn't quite know how to behave. In Tess, he had found a rare combination of innocence and sensuality, the perfect lady, the wanton mistress. He wanted to hold and protect her, yet the sight of her lovely golden body drove him to dizzying heights of desire. From the moment he set eyes on her he had thought of marriage and children. At the same time, the merest touch of her hand heated his blood, making him white-lipped with frustrated need. The frustration was over. His hands roamed possessively over her breasts and he lowered his mouth to the curve of her throat. "My mother need not concern you, Tess."

  Her head fell back, answering the demand of his lips. All thoughts of Leonie Devereaux disappeared in the sudden, blinding rush of passion.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Devereaux walked into his mother's sitting room and smiled at her with frosty blue eyes.

  "Wish me happy, Mama. Tess has accepted my offer of marriage. The wedding will take place on Christmas Day."

  Her face whitened. "You can't be serious."

  "On the contrary. I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

  Leonie placed the menus she had been looking at on a nearby table. Lifting her eyes to her son's face, she gave him her full attention.

  "Isn't this rather sudden, James? When I last spoke to Tess, she had decided to refuse your proposal."

  "I can be very persuasive."

  Leonie wet her lips nervously. "I see."

  "I'm relieved that you do. Because if you do anything to cause Tess to change her mind, I shall be forced to send you away."

  "James!" she cried angrily. "How can you do this? The girl is an American, a commoner. Her father is a tradesman and God knows who her mother was." Hot color rose in her cheeks and her lips thinned. "This is the woman you expect me to receive as the duchess of Langley? I'd rather die."

  There was a long silence. Leonie was frightened at the expression on her son's face.

  "You will receive Tess as the duchess of Langley, Mother." His voice was soft and very dangerous. "If you do not, I will remove you from this house. You will never see me nor any children born to me again."

  Leonie lifted a shaking hand to her throat. Never, even in their most difficult moments, had he spoken to her like this.

  He came closer and bent so that his eyes were level on her face. "You shall take back the words you spoke about my betrothed or," he waited a moment, emphasizing the last words, "I shall be forced to actions you will regret more than I. Which shall it be, Mother?"

  Leonie swallowed. "I shall welcome Tess as your wife."

  He smiled with his lips only and straightened. "Excellent." Laying his hand on the door, he was about to turn the knob when her voice stopped him.

  "Wouldn't it be more prudent to wait a bit longer?" She used her final argument. "After all, Mr. Bradford has just been declared dead. At least six months of mourning is required."

  "Tess has been in England for nearly that length of time," he replied tersely. "For all anyone knows, he could have been dead."

  "James," Leonie pleaded. "Why the hurry? Surely, if you love each other, a waiting period won't harm you. Think of the scandal."

  "The wedding will be in two days as scheduled. It isn't possible to wait any longer."

  "But why?" Leonie stamped her foot, her magnificent eyes flashing blue sparks.

  He turned to face her, speaking deliberately. "Unless you want your first grandchild to carry the name of Bradford, the wedding will take place as soon as possible."

  Leonie flinched as if she had been slapped. "That was brutal as well as unnecessary."

  The level blue eyes burned with anger. "No more brutal than what you tried to do to me."

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She let them fall, the clear drops forming small dark patches on the blue cambric of her dress.

  "I only want you to be happy," she said in a choked whisper.

  His face softened. In the space of a second he had crossed the room and taken her in his arms. "I am happy, Mama," he murmured. "Without Tess, there is no happiness for me in all the world. Can't you see that?"

  Her heart ached at the unfamiliar tenderness in his voice. She reached up to cup his cheek in her hand. His face swam before her through a mist of tears. This was her son, a leaner, harder, version of the little boy who shrieked with delight and clung to her with smudged cheeks and dirty hands when she walked into the nursery so many years ago. For a long time now he had been withdrawn and preoccupied. Not even Lizzie could penetrate that aura of deep reserve behind which he held his most private thoughts.

  Leonie had thought a wife was what he needed. Someone gracious and lovely who would bring him out of his distracted aloofness and provide Langley with a desperately needed heir. It appeared she was right. James was no longer remote. He was a man in love. And although his choice was not her choice, she had no recourse but to accept it. Leonie was an intelligent woman.

  She was also sincerely attached to her children. Raising her eyes to his face, she smiled.

  "Two days isn't much time to prepare," she said, "but we'll manage."

  James grinned for the first time since he entered the room. "Thank you, Mama. I knew I could count on you."

  Chapter 16

  They were married two days later in the chapel at Langley. It was an afternoon ceremony. The bride wore a deep red velvet gown that brought out the iridescent quality of her ivory skin. Her mother's pearl earrings and the gold band Devereaux placed upon her finger were her only jewelry. The couple exchanged their vows in calm, confident voices and although the guest list was comprised of family only, everyone agreed that never had they attended a ceremony so meaningful and so filled with joy.

  Even Lizzie was overcome. She clung to Tess and whispered in her ear. "You are really and truly my sister now. I'm so glad it was you. I don't think I could bear it if James had brought home anyone else."

  Leonie had feared her first encounter with Tess after James's announcement would be awkward. She needn't have worried. The girl's excellent breeding and calm serenity prevailed, and the occasion passed without incident. At the ceremony, one look at Tess's face and another at her son's made her heart rejoice. Gone was the cool remoteness of the last two years. His face was vivid with youth. The look of intense pride in his eyes when he gazed at his lovely wife, brought the swift rush of tears to Leonie's eyes. She breathed a sigh
of relief. Langley would have an heir at last.

  After a sumptuous luncheon, the bride and groom left to spend several weeks at their small estate in Stratford.

  Tess's eyes widened as the gables of Surrey Manor came into full view. Langley was a castle, beautifully refurbished, but a castle all the same. Surrey was a palace. The rose-colored stone walls gleamed in the dying sunset and deep, long windows welcomed them with light and warmth from the lamps within. Built of mellow brick, it was graceful and lovely, obviously the design of a master architect.

  Tess was enchanted. Lifting glowing eyes to her husband's face, she laughed out loud. "Thank you, James," she said. "I feel at home for the first time since setting foot in England."

  "You are home, my love," he said gently, "and I have weeks to prove it to you."

  He pulled her into the circle of his arms, resting his head against her shining hair. His voice shook slightly.

  "For the first time I have you all to myself. I feel as if I've waited a lifetime for this day."

  She smiled into the wool-covered shoulder. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "I feel the same," she answered.

  "Tess," he groaned in a strangled voice, "don't look at me like that or I won't be responsible for my actions."

  She smiled a wide, lovely smile. "I'll grant a reprieve now, m'lord," she replied, moving to the safety of the far end of the carriage, "but later, I expect you to honor your word."

  Something dark and elemental flickered in the pupils of his eyes. "I won't disappoint you," he promised.

  Tess swallowed and looked out the carriage window.

  * * *

  The servants were taken aback by the slender American beauty who greeted them with such careful gravity. Reared in an English class system that strictly separated servants from their superiors, the duke's staff was hesitant to accept an outsider. Prepared to tolerate Tess for their master's sake, they were all, without exception, agreeably surprised. From the housekeeper down to the cook's kitchen helper, they fell instantly in love, charmed by the sincerity and good manners of the American girl who was now the duchess of Langley.

  At dinner, that night, the cook outdid himself. The duke and duchess feasted on a meal of asparagus and buttered crab, roast beef and Christmas pudding, washed down with an excellent vintage champagne.

  Devereaux couldn't keep his eyes off his wife. The creamy skin of her shoulders and breasts gleamed against the rich, green satin of her gown. Her silvery hair was piled on top of her head with one lock pulled free to rest against the bare skin of her shoulder. The thick shining mass seemed almost too heavy for her slender neck. She seemed brighter somehow, more vibrant, as if lit from within by a thousand candles. His heart pounded in anticipation of what would follow.

  Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he pulled out a small flat box and placed it in front of her.

  "Merry Christmas, Tess," he said.

  She opened the box and gasped. An emerald necklace and matching earrings, their magnificent stones brilliantly cut to catch the light, blinked up at her.

  "James," she stammered. "These are priceless. I can't possibly wear anything like this."

  "Of course you can," he replied, rising to stand behind her. Lifting the necklace from its box, he fastened it around her neck. The jewels glowed richly green against the flawless, ivory skin.

  "It's traditional for every Devereaux bride to receive them on her wedding day," he explained.

  Tess turned to look at him. "Are you telling me that your mother willingly gave up these incredible jewels merely to uphold family tradition?"

  He grinned. "Something like that."

  "You really are amazing, m'lord." A smile lurked in the depths of her eyes. "Is anything beyond your persuasive powers?"

  His hands slid up her arms to rest on her shoulders. He could feel her tremble under his touch. "Shall we go upstairs?" His voice was thick with desire. The candlelight shone on the night black hair, glinting with blue sparks. His eyes were startlingly light against his dark face.

  Her breath caught in her throat. "Give me a moment to get ready," she whispered. "I'll dismiss the maid."

  He nodded and watched her climb the stairs.

  Tess was conscious of nothing but thoughts of her husband as the maid silently dressed her in a thin, lawn nightgown and brushed out her hair. This was the man she loved. She knew it now, without a doubt. The deep, inner reserve behind which she concealed her innermost feelings had crumbled beneath the strength of his passion. He held her happiness, her future, her very soul in the palm of his hand.

  The door opened and he walked in dressed in trousers and a white shirt. The maid left the room.

  Devereaux looked at his wife, taking in the grace of her body, the straight slim beauty of her legs visible beneath the nightgown.

  "You are very beautiful, Tess," he said.

  She smiled. "I was thinking the same about you."

  He looked surprised and then laughed. Walking over to where she sat, he reached out to touch her hair.

  "It's the color of moonlight," he whispered, his voice huskier than usual. Bending his head, he kissed her.

  Tess moaned and slid her hands under his shirt, feeling the smooth hard muscles of his back and chest. He was hard against her thigh. Her hands dipped lower. With a harsh exclamation, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Shrugging off his shirt, he looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and dark with desire. He pulled her gown over her head and tossed it to the floor. Slowly, his hand traced a path from her cheek to her throat to her breast.

  She melted as soon as he touched her. Her arms went up around his neck and she pulled his head to her mouth.

  James felt her shudder and tried desperately to slow the rhythm of his own mounting passion.

  "For two days, I've wanted nothing but this," he muttered, caressing her bare skin. When she gasped and arched up against him, his control broke and he waited no longer. Dousing the candle, he lifted himself from his breeches and thrust into the warm, willing body of his wife.

  When he awoke the room was flooded with sunlight and Tess was propped up on one elbow looking at him.

  He smiled. "What are you thinking about so seriously?"

  She moved closer to lay her lips against his chest. "I'm thinking how lucky I am to have you." Her beautiful face was grave. "I love you very much."

  All thoughts of sleep vanished. The contented look in the blue eyes disappeared and quite another expression crept in.

  "Kiss me," he murmured, sliding his arms around her.

  Slowly, her lips met his. White heat flamed inside her. She abandoned all thoughts but the sudden rushing pleasure of his mouth on hers and his hands roaming across her skin, lifting her to sensual heights she'd only imagined.

  * * *

  The business of government didn't stop because the duke of Langley was on his honeymoon. After several days of idyllic solitude, the young couple was interrupted by carriages containing messengers from Westminster traveling the wide avenue leading to Surrey Manor.

  Tess enjoyed watching her husband with these gentlemen. There was something about James that was difficult to describe. There was a stillness about him, a sense of authority that set him apart, a distinguishing personal charm different from everyone around him.

  She knew he was a powerful political figure, but she hadn't realized, until recently, just how powerful. The level of her feelings for her husband grew deeper as the weeks went by, until she could think of little else. She studied every expression on his face, every gesture of his hand, until she knew it as intimately as she knew her own. She could feel his presence when he entered the room.

  Their nights were filled with a passion that both frightened and inflamed her. Once, when she halfheartedly protested that the servants would gossip if they retired so early, he led her into the library, pulled the ribbon from her hair and proceeded to make love to her so effectively, that she begged him
to carry her upstairs to bed.

  But James was much more than a skilled lover. It soon became very clear to Tess that next to Lord Liverpool and Viscount Castlereagh and even General Wellington, he was a very important man in England.

  Again, she had misgivings about her decision to marry him. She couldn't be the political hostess of a man whose beliefs she did not share. When she mentioned her fears to James, he laughed them away.

  "You aren't English. No one can possibly expect you to think the way I do."

  "But, as your wife," she argued, "how can I support you when I feel as I do?"

  He reached over to take her hand. "You may say and do as you wish. Politics need not concern you."

  "But you see, James, I am political. Every American must be or we are doomed."

  "It isn't the same here," he reassured her. "You are a woman and, unfortunately, a woman's principles aren't given the same regard as a man's. It isn't right. I don't agree with it, but the situation exists."

  As the time to return to London drew nearer, James became more and more involved in his work leaving Tess to fend for herself. Gradually she became interested in the running of her household. Mrs. Greely, the housekeeper, was anxious to please her lovely new mistress and explained everything in great detail.

  Tess was warm and sympathetic and truly friendly. She ordered new hangings for the drawing room and had the grates repaired in the servants' quarters. In the morning, she played cards with the footmen, or discussed horses with the groom, and on baking day she could be found in the kitchen eating her measure of raisin-filled dough. At night, she lay curled against her husband's lean body, listening to the beating of his heart against her own, his skin slightly damp from their exertions.

  She looked upon their return to society with growing apprehension. Here, at Surrey, in the quiet of her bedchamber, he was completely hers. In London there would be parties and balls, concerts and teas. They would scarcely see each other, a daunting prospect for a woman who six months before had measured the annual Bladensburg barbeque as the height of her social season. Worst of all would be the speculative whispers as to how an innocuous American widow with no fortune had walked off with the prize of the marriage mart.