by Anne Herries
‘Never.’ He smiled and stroked her cheek tenderly. ‘I swear it. I shall stay at home and spend my life making you happy, Deborah. I have done with the caprice of kings and princes.’
‘The King will be angry because we ran away. Will he seek to punish you for disobeying him?’
Nicholas looked at her confidently. ‘Do not fear, my love. I doubt he will send an army to arrest me, for it would cost him money he would not care to waste in such a cause. I have been a good friend to James. Besides, he has other problems. England may soon be at war with Spain over the breakdown of the marriage contracts.’
She looked up at him in sudden alarm. ‘You will not go to war? Oh, please, Nicholas, promise me!’
Nicholas kissed the top of her head. ‘You must find a way to keep me at home, Deborah,’ he said and the wickedness in his voice sent a thrill of desire winging through her.
Chapter Seventeen
It was late when they went on board the Siren’s Song as she lay at Greenwich. The sky was a velvety black, lit only by a sprinkling of stars, the sound of the water lapping against the boat a gentle swell as the tide that would take them to France began to turn.
Nicholas escorted Deborah to her cabin, then went back on deck to give the order to weigh anchor. She laid his cloak over the back of the captain’s chair, then sat down on the edge of the bed to wait. Her whole being throbbed with anticipation. Would he come to her—or would he remain on deck until they reached France?
Her heart began to thump wildly as she heard the sound of his footsteps and then the cabin door opened. He stood on the threshold smiling at her, and, as she saw the look in his eyes, her body tingled with longing and desire.
‘You were expecting me?’ he asked huskily.
‘I hoped you would come.’ She held out her hand to him invitingly, a naughty smile on her lips. ‘You have not yet kissed me, my lord. Is it not the custom to kiss a lady after she has accepted your proposal?’
‘Would you have had me ravish you before the boatmen?’ he asked, eyes alight with wicked mischief. ‘Do you imagine that I could kiss you now and walk away? I am not a saint, Deborah. I have wanted you, burned for you too long. I shall not answer for the consequences if you continue to look at me like that.’
‘How do I look at you, Nicholas?’ she asked softly.
‘As if you longed for me to make love to you.’
‘The way you did that night in the stable yard?’ She raised her head, the shine in her eyes bright enough to blind a man. ‘You almost had me then. I could not have denied you had you persisted—you know that I think?’
‘I wanted more than your body, Deborah. I wanted your heart and soul…all of you.’
‘You have me,’ she replied and then gave him a teasing look. ‘I think we have each other, sir, and it must be for the future to see who will command.’
‘You may command me in anything,’ he declared passionately as he drew her close to him, his arms holding her pressed hard against him so that she could feel the throb of his passion.
‘Then I command you to make love to me,’ she whispered as her own desire became a flame that would meet and match his own fire. ‘Make me yours, Nicholas. Make it now…’
He bent his head, his mouth taking hungry possession of hers in a kiss that seemed to draw the very soul from her body. She felt as if she were dissolving into him, becoming one being, a part of a living, breathing flame of desire that was consuming them both.
‘Oh, my love. I have dreamed of you so often…’ he murmured huskily, lips against her throat. ‘Dreamed, desired…needed you. I never ceased to think of you when we were parted.’
‘And I of you.’
Deborah released the ties of her overdress, letting it slide to the floor, then her bodice and silken petticoat. Nicholas ripped away the fine linen of her shift to reveal the soft, rose-tipped mounds of her breasts to his fevered gaze. He bent his head to lick the buds delicately with his tongue before taking them into his mouth to gently nuzzle at her. She moaned with pleasure as he slid to his knees before her, burying his head against her femininity as if to breathe her in and absorb her into himself.
She shuddered as the waves of desire began to break over her, so much more strongly than she had yet experienced, shaking her with their force. She was swept along on a tide of sensual pleasure as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, then hastily stripped away his own clothes, casting them to the floor. Naked, he laid down next to her, thigh to thigh, gazing into her eyes.
His warm breath on her skin made her tingle as he began to explore her body intimately, caressing and delighting every piece of her as he slowly lingered over her, enjoying, savouring, anticipating the moment when they came together.
When at last she felt his throbbing manhood thrusting at her, seeking entrance to the warm, willing centre of her, she was already wandering on the plains of an unknown heaven and scarcely felt the loss of her maidenhead, a sharp pain kissed away in seconds by his mouth on hers and then a return to the pleasure that had her writhing beneath him and calling his name over and over again in her joy.
Never could she have imagined the pleasure Nicholas was giving her, and she him. Their bodies moved in a slow dance of sensual delight, matching each other perfectly so that when the tide of desire finally swept them both to that far shore it was so powerful that neither could speak for some time afterwards.
When they did it was the foolish, tender talk of lovers satiated and content, bodies still intertwined and minds attuned.
They slept and woke and made love again, this time with a hungry passion that devoured them both in its intensity.
‘I am cruel to use you so,’ Nicholas whispered remorsefully against her ear. ‘You will hurt tomorrow. I should have given you space to heal after the first time.’
‘I did not wish for time,’ Deborah whispered as she snuggled against him, contented and at peace. ‘Do not leave me, Nicholas. Hold me until we reach France.’
‘I shall hold you forever,’ he murmured, drawing her into him so that their bodies fit together as one. ‘I love you, my angel.’
She slept peacefully in his arms, waking to find she was alone and it was morning. They were anchored in the bay off Chalfont and, as she rose to dress, she felt a tingle of anticipation. She was home again!
‘Oh, it is so good to have you home again, my lady,’ Louise cried as soon as she saw Deborah. ‘I was so frightened when they told us you ’ad been captured by that wicked man. I think I never see you again and I am sad.’
Deborah embraced her. ‘Thank you, Louise. You did not believe that I had gone willingly?’
‘Of a surety, no!’ Louise cried, laughing naughtily. ‘You love the marquis, yes? And ’e love you. Why should you go? You ’ave everything your ’eart desires ’ere, no?’
‘Yes. Yes, everything,’ Deborah said and sighed with contentment as she moved about the room she now thought of as her own. ‘I am so happy here.’
‘And so much in love.’ Louise looked at her knowingly. Deborah was no longer a child, she had become a woman who had known passion. ‘It is all settled between you now—yes?’
Deborah laughed. ‘You are a wicked girl, Louise—but I missed you when I was in England. No one has ever looked after me as well as you do.’
‘I should ’ope not,’ Louise said with a shrug of her shoulders, but the look in her eyes showed that she was pleased with her mistress’s praise. ‘And now I prepare your bath, yes?’
‘Oh, of all things that is what I should most like,’ Deborah cried. ‘Yes, please… Oh, Louise…’ she called the girl back. ‘You have not seen my betrothal ring? Some of my things were sent to England, but my ring was not amongst them.’
‘It was ’ere,’ Louise said and frowned. ‘Mistress Trevern—she pack your pearls ’erself. I pack only your gowns.’
‘Then I must ask Mistress Trevern,’ Deborah said. ‘Thank you, Louise. I shall enjoy a warm bath bef
ore I go down to join the marquis.’
As Louise went away to prepare the water, Deborah made a brief search for her ring. She knew where she had laid it down on that fateful day, but it was not there, nor had it fallen beneath the table.
Marie must have taken it deliberately! Deborah felt vexed. It had not fitted her well, but Nicholas would have had it altered to fit her finger.
There was no point in looking for the ring any longer. Louise had returned to tell her the bath was ready and to help her undress. She slipped into the deliciously warm, scented water and sat back with her eyes closed. How good it felt.
She had experienced a little soreness in that tender place Nicholas had lavished so much attention on the previous night, but the warmth—and perhaps some healing balm Louise had put into the water—was easing away the slight pain she had felt as they rode to the château earlier.
A smile touched Deborah’s mouth as she compared this homecoming to the first time she had visited Chalfont. She had said such foolish things to Nicholas! And all the time she had been falling hopelessly in love with him. She had been a naïve girl then, but he had taught her all that was needful to become a woman.
‘Why do you smile, my lady?’
His husky tones made her open her eyes with a start of surprise. ‘I did not hear you enter,’ she said, feeling a little shy that he had found her bathing. She glanced behind her—the door from her chamber had not opened. ‘How…?’
‘Through the curtain yonder.’ He grinned teasingly. ‘Did you never wonder what lay beyond it?’
‘Your chamber?’ she cried and was prompted to laugh but would not. Every night she had been at the château he had been so much closer to her than she had ever guessed. ‘You are a rogue, sir! You might have walked into my bedchamber at any moment.’
‘You know not how tempted I have been,’ Nicholas replied, his eyes challenging her. ‘I have watched you sleep and longed to take you in my arms.’
‘Watched while I slept? You are no gentleman, sir!’
‘I fear I cannot be,’ he murmured wickedly. ‘For I should not be here this moment—but I do not wish to leave. Do you bathe often, Deborah? Is that why you always smell so sweet? Why your skin is so soft?’
‘My lord!’ she protested, her cheeks aflame. ‘It is the middle of the day. Such talk is not seemly.’
‘Would you have me come to you only when it is dark?’ He smiled and knelt down beside the bath. His hand strayed towards her shoulder, his fingers caressing the silk of her wet skin. ‘I do not think I can wait so long—yet I know I must. We should not make love again so soon.’
‘I want to be with you,’ Deborah said, all pretense at outrage gone. She stood up, her lovely, slender body revealed in all its glory. ‘Dry me, my lord. Let us pleasure each other.’
‘Yes, I shall pleasure you,’ Nicholas said, ‘though I shall not take my ease of you again so soon. You are too precious to me, my love. I would not cause you a moment’s pain.’
He wrapped her about with the sheet, patting her dry and then discarding the damp bathing sheet so that she was naked in his arms as he carried her to the bed.
Nicholas began by kissing her feet and the hollow in her ankle. His lips moved tantalizingly slowly upwards to the inner softness of her thigh—and then to that part of her that ached for his touch. She had thought the pleasure he had given her the previous night might never be repeated, for surely such joy could not always be a part of loving, but the warmth of his lips and tongue set her spiralling to dizzy heights. She was shaken by the force of the spasms of sensual delight his unselfish loving brought to her.
Afterwards, as he lay with his head against her breast, she sensed that he still hungered and yet would not take his ease of her for fear of hurting her. Greatly daring, she pushed him so that he rolled over on his back and lay staring up at her as she raised herself above him.
‘May I not pleasure you as you did me, my lord?’
‘Do you wish to?’ he asked. ‘I would not ask anything you did not wish to give, my love.’
Deborah smiled and bent her head, kissing first the hollows at his shoulder and then his chest, little teasing flicks of her tongue that followed a narrow trail of dark hair downward towards the sensitive centre of his need. She lingered artfully until she had him groaning, moving lower and lower until she reached the object of their mutual desire.
Afterwards, when they lay in each other’s arms, satiated, content and happy, Nicholas remembered why he had come to her as she was bathing. He rose and sought for the small velvet pouch amongst his clothing, then brought it back to her and tipped its contents into the palm of his hand. She saw it was a magnificent emerald ring, which he proceeded to slip onto her betrothal finger.
It fitted perfectly and she knew it had been made for her. ‘It is lovely,’ she told him. ‘The ring you gave me on the day of our betrothal has been mislaid. I left it on the dressing board when I went riding for fear that I might lose it.’
‘Have you asked Louise if she has seen it?’
‘She said Marie packed my personal things. She had seen it earlier. Marie must have packed it, I suppose—though I did not see it in London.’
‘I wondered why you did not wear it.’ Nicholas frowned. ‘I shall ask Marie if she has put it somewhere for you when she returns.’
‘Is she to return?’
‘Until her wedding. I have given her a dowry—it is the least I could do.’
‘You saw her that afternoon in London?’ Deborah asked.
‘Yes. I did not disturb you because Marie said you had complained of a headache earlier—and I had in any case decided that we should elope.’
‘I did not complain of a headache. It was my heart that ached when you did not come to me as you promised.’
Nicholas nodded. ‘Your heart does not ache now?’
‘No—you know that I am happy, Nicholas.’
Nicholas looked serious. ‘I do not think Marie is happy. We must try to be kind to her, Deborah. Not everyone is as fortunate as we are.’
‘Yes, I know.’ She smiled at him lovingly. ‘I must get up. You should go away, my lord, and leave me to dress.’
‘I would lie with you all day,’ Nicholas replied. ‘But I have been from home some little time and I have things to do. We shall be alone this evening—but tomorrow your father and our guests arrive. The following day we shall be married.’
‘Go, then,’ Deborah bid him. ‘For I know you must have much to do.’
‘We shall dine together,’ Nicholas said. ‘And tonight I shall come to you.’
‘Yes.’ Deborah caught his hand and kissed it. ‘We must never be apart again.’
‘Never while we both live,’ he vowed and then he left her.
He was standing over her, his red eyes fearful to behold. She could feel his hot breath on her and she cried out to Nicholas to save her. He was going to force her to become his bride…
‘Hush, my love,’ Nicholas said, rocking her in his arms. ‘It was but a dream. He can never hurt you now. He is dead and I am here with you. I shall always be with you.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said and clung to him. ‘I am foolish to have these dreams now. It is all behind me. I am safe with you.’
‘Did you have dreams before?’
‘Not always the same,’ she confessed. ‘I thought it was because I feared to lose you—but I have no need to fear that now.’
‘You will not lose me,’ Nicholas said and found her lips.
He kissed her tenderly and she turned into his body, snuggling up to him like a trusting kitten. ‘Take no notice of my foolishness, dearest. I love you. Just love me and all will be well.’
Nicholas made love to her tenderly, and then they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Deborah had been walking in the gardens, picking herbs she intended to use in her simples. It was still warm despite the fact that it was now almost winter. Not as hot as it had been in the summer, but pleasant enough to enj
oy being in her garden.
‘Forgive me for disturbing you, my lady.’ One of the servants had come up to her. ‘You asked to be told when Sir Edward Stirling and Mistress Trevern arrived.’
‘Are they here?’ She smiled at him. ‘Thank you. I shall come at once.’
She walked into the house and, after giving her basket to a servant, ran straight up to the chamber that had been prepared for her father.
‘You are here,’ she said as he opened his door to her knock. ‘How pleased I am to see you, dearest Father.’
Sir Edward looked into her eyes, then nodded and smiled. ‘You are happy,’ he said. ‘It is in your eyes, Deborah. I wondered how you would feel when de Vere told me he planned to elope with you—but I see it has served.’
‘Yes.’ She went to kiss his cheek. ‘I love him—and he loves me. I know that now.’
‘Of course he loves you—did you doubt it?’ She nodded and he chuckled as if much amused. ‘Foolish girl. A blind man would have known it, but love is often blind.’ He frowned then. ‘I had thought I might marry once you were wed, child—but since I have been told to regard this house as my second home, I see no reason for it. No, I shall keep your mother’s memory sacred and find my happiness in you and your children.’
Deborah felt a sense of relief. She had wondered if her father had been attracted to Nicholas’s cousin, but it seemed his heart remained his own.
She kissed his cheek. ‘I knew that Nicholas had told you this is your home. You must stay with us as often as you wish, Father. I would be happy if you made your home with us, and I know Nicholas would also, for the house is so large and he loves to fill it with his friends. And now I must see that Mistress Trevern has all she needs.’
‘Be careful,’ her father warned. ‘I did not see it at first—but I have discovered that she hates you, Deborah.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Deborah replied. ‘It has been that way from the very beginning. She had hoped that Nicholas would marry her and she has been unkind on several occasions—but I have tried to ignore it. She is Nicholas’s cousin.’
