Madness

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Simon grinned broadly, and for a second Randall could have sworn...

  But the fleeting impression vanished as suddenly as it has appeared. He shook his head to chase away the odd notion that they had indeed met before he had ever come to Barkson House with Gabrielle, and he turned the conversation around to insisting that they have a party to celebrate, and to also introduce Simon around the neighbourhood a bit more.

  Simon was reluctant at first, but agreed in the end after Isolde and the other Avenel adults assured him that they did not mean to make a Society beau out of him, simply have people meet him as one of their cousins.

  “All right, my dears. You know I can refuse you nothing." He smiled at Bryony and Isolde, one so dark, the other so bright and red, like his own beloved. "But not quite yet.”

  “It won’t be a big party, I promise,” Randall hastened to reassure them. “It would be mainly Rakehells. A ball would be just the—”

  Gabrielle shook her head. “Oh please, that makes it seem as though we're aristocrats, when everyone knows we’re living here at your sufferance.”

  “Rubbish,” Randall said airily. “We shall celebrate your engagement in style. "And now, off the two of you get before you ravish each other right on the table in front of the children. I think I’m going to need to give the two of you more time off until you come down off your cloud of euphoria. It’s positively indecent the way both of you glow when you look at each other.”

  "Sorry," they both apologised at once, and then grinned.

  "Actually, no, I'm not in the least sorry," Gabrielle said, giving Simon a warm kiss. "Well, only about the scaring the children part."

  But the eldest were all smiling happily, not in the least put out at the cloud of romantic happiness which seemed to fill the room.

  Dowager Lady Hazelmere sniffed. "I'm not sorry either. It does so remind me of my wonderful days with your dear Papa."

  Gabrielle blinked for a moment, for she was sure that the older woman was staring right at Simon as she said it. Yet Simon was certainly no blood relation…..

  A strange thought began to form in the back of her mind as she looked at the three men, all toasting the happy couple with cups of tea. They were all so tall and dark, and so similar in appearance that they interchanged clothes all the time….

  Not to mention the fact that Isolde had discovered Michael was still alive when he had been declared dead after the war by following a man she had thought to be Randall….

  They might be brothers, right enough, but by all accounts the Dowager had said their marriage had been a most happy one, and Simon definitely had recollections of his own mother and father, brothers and sister, not just in England, but in France.

  So no, they were not brothers, but they certainly could be related. After all, many of the best families in England intermarried in a complicated network that had little to do with love, and everything to do with the 'right' connections. Many families had even wed into the French aristocracy for the same reason.

  "Are you all right, my love?" he whispered, holding her close around the waist.

  "Never better, darling."

  "In that case, I've had my fill of breakfast, so can we let the feast begin?"

  She smiled up at him.

  "Let me just finish my toast and we'll go."

  They cleaned their plates hastily and took Randall at his word, waving au revoir to the children and telling them that lessons would resume tomorrow promply on the dot of seven.

  There were a few good natured grumbles, but David piped up, "I can't wait. Julius Caesar was about to meet Cleopatra."

  Randall laughed. "I'll say."

  She grinned as Simon swung her up into his arms and took the stairs two at a time.

  "You'll turn all of them into hopeless romantics at this rate."

  "There are worse things for young men to be," he pointed out as he hurried along the corridor to their room.

  As soon as they were back in the privacy of their chamber once more, he put her down on the bed, locked the door, and said, “Come here and let me taste all of you. I’m starving.”

  “Take whatever you like, as much as you want. Satisfying you only feeds my passion,” she urged, gliding her skirts up over her calves.

  He knelt before her, splaying one broad hand across each buttock as he pulled her up and open to his mouth. “I’m so glad. Hmm, delicious. A feast fit for a king.”

  "So long as I'm your queen."

  "Aye, that you are," came the muffled words. "My quean too. I nearly fainted with excitement when you came to me in Bedlam as you did."

  "Is that what all men want? A lady in the drawing room and a whore in the bedroom?" she asked, gazing down lambently at his dark head as he pleasured her.

  His head shot up, his eyes blazing. "No whore, not now, not ever. If any woman gives herself, it should be seen as a precious gift, not a monetary transaction or conquest, or something that should be reviled as a sin, when it's the most natural thing in the world to want to share with the person you love."

  "Oh, Simon, I wish all men thought as you do. Women too."

  "So I want my lady everywhere, all the time," he said impishly. "Drawingroom, bedroom, bathtub, rose garden…"

  He was already kissing his way back down her bare belly to resume his attentions on her aching and distended flesh. "And if there is a little bit of, shall we say vixen, in the mix, well, then, I'm more than happy to be your frisky dog fox."

  "Sure, with this red hair, could I be anything other than a vixen?" she replied with a laugh, tossing her tresses over her shoulder with a sultry smile.

  "You're perfect. My vixen, goddess, and my dearest love. And soon to be my wife."

  "Amen to that," she said, arching her back as the whirlwind sensations swept through her once more.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Since their reluctance and shyness over the engagement ball in their honor were so evident, Isolde and Bryony made all the arrangements for Simon and Gabrielle’s party, which was to be a supper with dancing afterwards a week from the day they had got engaged.

  Gabrielle could see Simon was still deeply unhappy about the whole idea, even on the morning it was to take place.

  She had hoped he would have come around to the prospect by now, but a slight frown marred his handsome features, and he was distracted and almost nervous, jumping every time she spoke.

  Finally she took his hand as they sat in the small study going over some of their finances together.

  “Darling, I know you're a bit nervous about the party tonight, but, well, the truth is, we can’t keep hiding away forever. You act as though you’ve done something wrong. You know you haven’t.”

  “But I’m, well, odd, aren’t I?” he asked quietly.

  Her brows lifted. “In what way?”

  “Just well, different.”

  Gabrielle smiled at him lovingly. “If you mean really bright and intelligent, yes. If you mean anything less than a gentleman, no, not at all. Please believe me. Everyone will love you almost as much as I do. You have no reason to be so shy.”

  “I’m terrified I’ll have one of those seizures right in front of everyone and say or do something--”

  “Then we just admit you have epilepsy. I don’t see anything wrong with that. You’re ill, not mad. Even Julius Caesar had the so-called falling sickness.”

  “I suppose that’s one consolation. But in front of so many strangers—”

  She patted his hand and said in her most hearty tone, "They will stay strangers if you don’t make the effort. Really, you’ll be fine. You do have a rather disconcerting habit of telling the truth about everything, and a most bold tongue in bed. But if you remember that most people don’t really want to hear the truth, you’ll be fine.

  "Try to keep the conversation light and frothy, and above all, don’t start getting romantic with me in front of everyone, or they shall soon find out that we are the most outrageously happy couple, and that really would be a
scandal." She rolled her eyes comically. "Marrying for love amongst the aristos in Britain simply isn’t done.” She added the last with a Ton drawl which would have done a Society miss proud.

  “I think you are wrong about the latter. From what I hear, every Rakehell marriage was a love match, even if some of them had a rocky start.”

  “Yes, but they're Radicals. They feel strongly about the rights of women, and marriage as an institution. So at least we shall be in excellent company. Ours is exactly the same, a true love match in every sense.”

  “Very well, I shall try to not view the night as a torment keeping me away from your lush feminine charms. Which I am amply going to partake of once they have all gone home.”

  “If not before,” she said with a wink. “It’s a rather balmy afternoon, don’t you think? Perfect for a turn in the garden.”

  “Fancy a bit of ploughing, do you?”

  Gabrielle grinned broadly. “Always, my love.”

  “All right. I promise to do my best to be scintillatingly entertaining. And speaking of bubbling and sparkling, do you fancy coming to bed?”

  “Why bother with a bed?” she returned with a flutter of her eyelashes worthy of the most worldly coquette.

  He lifted her in his arms and headed for the privacy of their chamber.

  “Because like all superb vintages, every mouthful, every drop should be savoured. Rolled around the tongue and really tasted. And I get so aroused when you’re completely naked, which we can’t really indulge in in the garden, you know. Sunburn is a dreadful nuisance. And we did promise not to scare the children.”

  She giggled. “Hmm, naked, you say? You seemed to enjoy a couple of my negligees,” she observed with a sultry smile as he strode down the corridor to their room.

  “But nothing can be better than your own silken skin, your satiny thighs, your velvet purse. You spread out before me, all your treasures laid bare for both our delights.”

  She frowned slightly. “Won’t it, well, lose its mystery and allure? I mean, there are so many unfaithful couples in the world.”

  “Yes, there are,” he agreed as he continued up the stairs to their room, “because they’re either looking for something impossible that dosn’t exist, or they’re not willing to make the effort to improve things. But I have a dream come true. Why would I ever want or need anything else but this?” He placed his palm on her muslin-clad left breast. “I have your heart, do I not?”

  “Yes, always,” she breathed.

  “Then no better gift could ever be bestowed upon me, except possibly a daughter just like you one day. Kind and loving, devoted, and above all honest and true. And not in the least dazzled by worldly concerns. A woman who follows her heart even when the whole world tells her she’s wrong.”

  He entered their room and laid her gently on the bed, then moved to shut and lock the door.

  “No, my love, never wrong. A bit foolhardy perhaps, but nothing is ever gained if we don’t take risks. As for children, I wish to put in a request for a son with your eyes, who will emulate his father, who’s the most decent and loving man I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you’ve remained, well, so pure despite all the hell you’ve been through. I just thank all the gods for it, and pray that you remain that way forever.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners deeply as he beamed at her. His fingers already had her white muslin gown off and her chemise was about to follow. “With such joy as this, I think it will be easy.”

  Her head swirled with the power of his hands and kiss. She panted with eagerness as he undressed her with a maddening leisure, kissing every part of her body as it was exposed.

  When she was completely bare, he shucked off his own clothing in moments with a impressive rippling of muscles which never failed to take her breath away.

  If he had been gorgeous when they’d first met, Simon was even more spectacular now. He had filled out considerably with good food, exercise, fresh air and sunshine, blossomed like a flower with her love.

  The love of his new family had softened his hard edges, transforming him from brittle and nervous, ill at ease around anyone but her, to relaxed and easy-going, a model companion for their friends.

  She could still see his eyes dart around him warily every so often in a new situation, but the stillness she had seen in the asylum was back. He was once again the man always in control, though deceptively open and engaging.

  Gabrielle occasionally wondered who the real Simon was. But in the end she knew two things. The first was that he was both of those things, and possibly none.

  The second was that it didn’t really matter. The man who moved between her thighs with such commanding vigour was the only man she needed to know. He was the man who worshipped her, would never hurt her, gave her such joy. She loved him with every particle of her being.

  As they climaxed together, his heart and soul lay open before her, and they were truly beautiful. Why ever hope or ask for anything more?

  When he had finished he kept on moving until he burgeoned once more. To her surprise he rolled them onto their sides, and asked her to present her back to him.

  At her mildly puzzled look he said, “I was recalling our first couple of nights together in that cot and how excited we both got. Do you mind? It’s just that the angle will be even more exciting for you.”

  “So long as it’s exciting for you too,” she said as she rolled over.

  “Always. I adore your lovely bottom too, you know.”

  “I know. Believe me. Not a single part of my body ever feels unappreciated.”

  “Well, it isn’t.”

  He entered her from behind, filling her feminine softness and stroking the inner front of her body at just the perfect acute angle.

  “Nice?”

  “Mmm, it’s wonderful. But I can’t hug or really touch you.”

  “Ah, but look, I can tease you here, here and here all at the same time.”

  “Oh my.” She spread her legs to grant him access to all of her below. Then she reached between her own legs and backwards. “Ah, and I can tease your own velvet purse here.”

  He sighed. “Oh, Gabrielle you are so lovely. Bring your knees up. That’s right. Oh my, give me your leg, and—”

  He drove into her. “Oh Lord, I’m going to—”

  She urged, “Go on, darling, come for me, let me feel you fill me—”

  “Gabrielle! Gabrielle!”

  She sighed softly a long time afterwards. “That’s it. You’ve ruined me completely.”

  He stiffened, now concerned.

  “Did I hurt—”

  “Not at all. But you’ve made me a quivering mass of desperate need. I’m nothing more than a slave to my love for you.”

  “Are you complaining?” he asked sleepily, relaxing once more and nuzzling her neck until her nipples peaked anew.

  “Never.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, rolling her over to fondle her whole body in one sweeping caress.

  She rested her hands on his shoulders, her only anchor in the swirling sea of sensuality he evoked with the lightest brush of his tongue on her nipples or her rosette of pleasure.

  “Mmm,” he sighed as he savoured her flesh. “Do you think they’ll mind if we skip the ball this evening?”

  She giggled “Well, it is being held in our honour, so I think they might,” she said, now rolling him onto his back to reciprocate his wonderful attentions.

  “Drat. All right, I promise to do my best if you’ll do that wonderful thing with your- Oh,” he sighed, “perfect.”

  She gave a happy little giggle.

  “Go on, darling, come for me again.”

  “Lord, you don’t need to ask me twice,” he gasped, and surrendered to her utterly.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Several hours later the carriages began to draw up in front of the house. Simon checked his appearance in the pierglass one more time. Gabrielle joined him in front of the mirror and both gave a slow smile of remembered pl
easure.

  “There’s no doubt we’re a couple, and no doubt at all as to what we’ve been doing all afternoon,” he said with a grin.

  “And no doubt what we’re going to be doing all night as soon as we can make our escape without being too rude,” she added with a pert look.

  “I adore that dress on you. It matches your eyes so perfectly. You look so lovely in it, I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

  She took one step away in alarm. “Now, darling, you promised the last time—”