For Sabrina there was the briefest flash of surprise when Perce threw his tunic atop his greatcoat and began to pull off his boots. It was followed by an equally brief flash of recognition that her own action had precipitated his. Both ideas were driven out of consciousness by her flaring desire. She had long been deprived of sexual satisfaction, and the intensity of Perce’s passion was vividly communicated by his violent stripping. By the time he had his boots and shirt off and was shoving breeches and smallclothes down his hips, Sabrina was bare, waiting, watching him hungrily.
There was nothing about Perce’s lean, pale body to remind Sabrina of her husband’s very different appearance. Perce’s muscles were long and hard, marked out by thick blue veins. Like many very blond men, he was nearly hairless, except for the golden pubic bush from which his engorged manhood stood up, flushed dark crimson, startling against the whiteness of his skin. He straightened up, reaching out, his hands bent into hard, gripping talons fit to clutch an uncertain prey, but they never took the bruising hold Sabrina expected.
When he saw her naked, watching him, he paused for a heartbeat. His hands relaxed, fell gently on her shoulders, ran down her arms, gathered up her hands into one of his, and brought them to his lips. He kissed her palms, her fingers, his other arm sliding back up hers to embrace and draw her closer. As his body was hidden by their nearness, Sabrina at last looked into her lover’s face. It was hard to believe she had ever seen it frozen over, expressionless. The eyes were darker, liquid with tenderness, the mouth full and soft.
Then she could see him no longer for his head was bent, his lips on her throat, shoulder, ear. He released her hands to stroke her body, to press her against him so that she could feel the hard shaft teasingly just above where she wished to feel it. But she wished for other sensations, too. Her hands, now free, ran over his hard-muscled back, over the small buttocks, between his thighs. He gasped.
“Fire and ice and you burn me,” he murmured. “You burn me.”
He had relaxed his grip on her a little so that he could lower his mouth to her breasts. Sabrina leaned backward from the waist, shaking inside with excitement and with the sensations that passed over and through her body as lips and tongue played across her skin.
“Sweet, sweet,” he sighed between kisses. “You taste sweet. You smell sweet.”
His words suddenly made Sabrina aware of Perce’s own’ odor—that of old sweat, of tired horses, of effort, of strength taxed to the uttermost. It was not an odor she normally associated with him; he was ordinarily scrupulously clean. But she did not find it repellent right now. It was male and very exciting. William never smelled, except of scent. Sabrina pressed her hips harder against her lover’s body and moved them. An involuntary spasm rippled over Perce. He uttered a gasping, wordless sound of desire.
“Come to me,” she whispered. “Come to me.”
The floor was strewn with pelts, sheepskin and bear. They were the only purchases Sabrina had made for the house, and they were strictly practical, necessary to mitigate the drafts across the floors. Sabrina’s words and action seemed to unstring Perce’s muscles. His knees bent, and he sank down on the rug, carrying Sabrina with him. Fortunately it was a bearskin, quite large enough to protect them. A small surprised sound came from her, but it was muffled by Perce’s mouth, and the feel of his weight on her eliminated any sensation but the need to have him joined to her…
Chapter Nine
“Brina. Brina.”
The urgent whisper made her open her eyes. She was reluctant, unwilling to be drawn up out of the delightful lethargy that had followed the cataclysm of pleasure that had engulfed her. Still, she knew an equal joy waited on vision; she would see Perce’s face. Sabrina began to smile even before her lids came far enough apart to see. The smile broadened when she saw the anxiety with which he was regarding her.
“Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she replied, laughing at him softly. “I’m half dead, and I’m sure I’ll fall asleep at that musicale tonight. That will make a scandal.”
To her surprise, instead of laughing with her, Perce’s reaction was first anxiety, then anger. “Scandal? You don’t need any more scandals. What the devil have you been doing, Sabrina?”
She could not imagine what he was talking about. Sabrina knew her behavior had been unexceptionable—except for this past half hour. “Oh, goodness,” she whispered, “did Charlot come up and hear us?”
“No. Oh, my God! On the floor, like animals. Brina, I’m sorry. I—I couldn’t—couldn’t help it.”
Laughter bubbled up in her. “But I thought it was a brilliant idea, Perce. It saved me making the bed, and time is important, considering that my hair is all down again.”
He leaned over and kissed her silent, drew her against him, and held her tight. “We’d better get dressed again,” he said in a low voice. “This is insane. I never meant… Where’s—where’s Elvan?” He still couldn’t bring himself to say “your husband”.
“Out. He won’t be back until late. Nor will Katy. There’s only Charlot. Unless someone sends me a note, he won’t come up. We’d know if someone came to the house. The bell can be heard up here.” She paused and then asked, “How did you find your way up? Charlot would have put you in the sitting room.”
“He doesn’t know I’m here. A man, the cobbler, let me in. I asked for Elvan, and he said ‘abovestairs.’ But there was obviously no one in the lower rooms.” He hesitated and then went on very uncertainly, “We’d better get dressed.”
“Must we?” Sabrina whispered. “If Charlot doesn’t know…”
Perce buried his face against her throat. She could feel the muscles of his jaw work. Instead of responding to what she said, however, he asked, “What the hell are you doing here in Königsberg? Why didn’t you go back to England?”
Her lips trembled. “I couldn’t,” she said, wanting but not daring to say that she had stayed in the hope of seeing him. Perce’s expression did not invite confession, and she went on, “The ships were crowded. William thought it would be more dangerous to go than to stay. Why? Are you sorry?”
His arms tightened so hard that Sabrina whimpered. “I don’t know what I am.” His voice grated. “I only know I can’t resist you.”
He began to kiss her again, making a thorough job of it. It was as if he had no senses but those of touch and taste, as if he must know her only through those sensations. He kissed her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, her sides, her belly, her hips, her thighs, her toes, and between her toes. Eyes closed, he explored her.
Eyes open, Sabrina watched him, fired by both the assault on her senses and the obvious passion he felt. At last her eyes closed, too, as the sensations became too exquisite to permit sight to interfere. She wanted to urge him to mount her, but she had no voice. Feverishly she caressed him, pulled at him, uttering incoherent little cries. Although he was enwrapped, insulated from reality by his violent pleasure, Perce knew that sound was dangerous. He abandoned the nether lips he had been kissing and dammed those from which the sounds came. Again they came together, and again, all too soon, climax broke over Sabrina like a whirlwind, so fierce a pleasure that she could have screamed as if it were pain.
This time it was she who drew away when she had stopped trembling. “I think we had better get dressed,” she murmured in a shaken voice. “If you do that to me again, I think I’ll die. And it’s black as pitch outside, Perce. What time is it?”
He groaned and levered himself to a sitting position. His clothes were within arm’s reach, and he fumbled through the pile until he found his waistcoat, from which he extracted his pocket watch. “If I didn’t break it, dropping it like that, it’s ten after five.”
“Oh, heavens,” Sabrina whispered, getting to her feet, “if I don’t soon ring for Charlot to bring up what Katy left for my dinner, he’ll come to see whether I’ve fallen asleep.”
“Shall I go?” Perce’s voice was flat, hi
s face a mask.
Sabrina caught at him as he got up. “No, oh no!”
He put his arms around her at once and kissed her. “All right, then. I’ll just go outside to ring the bell like a proper visitor.”
She clutched him tightly, then let him go and laughed. “I don’t want you to go even as far as that, not even for five minutes. But you’re right. It would be best. Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t go home!”
Perce had let go of her when she released him and started to dress while she was speaking. His movements checked infinitesimally at her last remark, but he said nothing. The ships were too crowded, were they? He had no time to argue with her now. When he came back in, he would tell her what he thought of her lunacy.
They crept down the stairs silently in the dark, clinging to the wall to avoid the creaks and squeaks of the staircase. Perce opened the door bolts and stepped outside; Sabrina shut the bolts again and fled upstairs, breaking into giggles as she reached the haven of her room and closed the door. Perhaps guilt or remorse would seize her later, but just now her physical relief combined with Perce’s stealthy escape to make her effervesce with joy.
Nonetheless, she dressed herself in trembling haste, thanking God that Katy had laid everything out and chosen clothing that fastened within her reach. Finished, she returned to the horrid little dressing table to examine how badly her hair needed redoing, but her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the bearskin where she had made love so short a time ago. There was nothing to mark her joy. The thick, resilient fur showed not a sign of having held two heaving bodies. But on the sheepskin beyond the bear pelt—Perce’s fur hat.
Sabrina gasped and snatched it from the floor, jumping about a foot into the air when the bell pealed. She glanced wildly around for a place to hide the hat, darted toward the closet, away, to a drawer, then stopped. It was impossible to hide anything. Katy would find it. Besides, Perce could not go back to wherever he was staying without a hat. Aside from the fact that Sergei would notice, his ears would freeze. She heard Charlot’s steps coming up, shoved the hat under her arm, and pulled her shawl over it so it was hidden.
Charlot announced Perce, but Sabrina made no sense at all out of his words. Just as he entered the room she saw scattered between the rugs clods of mud that had fallen from Perce’s boots. If Charlot saw… Katy would never leave such dirt on the floor, and Sabrina had not been outside since Katy left the house. She nodded and smiled and said, “How delightful. Yes, certainly, I’ll come down at once,” praying that those were the right words but unable to gather her scattered wits enough to judge whether Charlot was surprised by a possible non sequitur.
But rescue came as a pang went through her, a pang not of love but, most unromantically, of hunger. She waved Charlot out, saying, “Light the dining room at once, Charlot, please. And bring my meal there. Set a place for Lord Kevern, too.”
Did the valet look strangely at her? Inside, Sabrina shook with fear. All her joy was lost, spoiled. A life of intrigue was clearly not for her. But without intrigue there could be no Perce. She lingered behind Charlot long enough to kick the largest clods of mud under a rug. Katy would find them and berate the woman who came to do the scrubbing. I must remember to get some mud in here somehow, Sabrina thought as she scurried down the steps.
Perce stood up from the chair in which he was sitting with obvious effort as she opened the door. “Please forgive me for coming to you in all my dirt, Sabrina,” he said formally.
She swallowed with shock, then saw his eyes on the door and closed it hurriedly. He could not know that Charlot was not right behind her. She came across to him quickly and handed him his fur cap. His breath drew in sharply, but he took it and thrust it into a pocket of his greatcoat, which was lying across another chair.
“Sorry,” he muttered, and passed his hand over his face.
“It’s all right. Charlot didn’t see it. I told him to set up for dinner.” Her voice quivered. Perce’s expression was so grim that, helplessly, she asked, “Are you sorry?”
She had lowered her head, but the candlelight glittered on tears in the corners of her eyes. He pulled her hard into his arms. “Yes, I am,” he said fiercely, “because I don’t know how I’m going to live without you, Brina. Because day and night I’m going to dream of murdering Elvan. Because I don’t think I can behave like a gentleman. I’m scared to death I’ll ruin you, and you’ll hate me for it.
“I won’t hate you,” Sabrina said softly. She lifted her head and really looked at him and was shocked. “Perce! You look so tired. She disengaged herself gently and pushed him. “Sit down.”
He obeyed promptly as if it were a relief, not waiting for her to take a chair, but he began to laugh. “What the devil do you expect? You look a little heavy-eyed yourself.”
“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “You look as if you haven’t slept for a week.”
“Not sure I have. When Bennigsen told us about the battles, at Jena and Auerstedt and that Boney had taken Berlin. …“ He shuddered. “I was worried about you.”
“That’s silly, too. The worst that could have happened is that we would have been interned.”
“It’s not the worst that could have happened,” Perce said harshly, his expression bleak and hard. “When troops come into a conquered city they don’t come in like a regiment of guards on parade. They take what they want. And don’t talk to me about diplomatic immunity. An apology from one government to another is cheap, but the raped are raped, and the dead are dead. What good would it do you if Boney shot a few troopers after the peace—and probably the wrong ones, too.”
She came to the side of the chair and put a hand on his cheek. “It didn’t happen, Perce. We’re safe here.”
“Are you? Can King Frederick William defend this place?”
Sabrina paled a trifle. “No. There’s nothing left. Most of Estoque’s division is here, but what it amounts to depends upon who tells the story. Estoque says fifteen thousand. I’m sure that’s not true. I’ve heard some say as low as fifteen hundred, but I don’t think that’s right either. Sir Robert thinks it’s about six thousand. But Boney’s in winter quarters isn’t he?”
“Christ!” Perce exclaimed. “It’s worse than Bennigsen thought. That means doing the thing alone. Oh, Jesus!’’
“Are you here to tell King Frederick William that Bonaparte is marching on Königsberg?” Sabrina asked. Her eyes were enormous, but her voice was steady.
“No! Sorry, Brina. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but this is no place for you. You must go home.”
“And you? Is this a place for you?” Sabrina asked heatedly. “Should you be in the Russian army, which you yourself don’t seem to think can ‘do it alone’? Anyway, I can’t go, Perce.”
“What do you mean, you can’t go?” Suddenly he remembered the expressions on the faces of the military aides, who had all seemed to know her. “Sabrina what have you been doing?” he thundered.
Sabrina jumped with surprise. “What are you shouting about?” she cried.
“Why does every young attaché at headquarters get a funny look on his face when your name is mentioned?” he snarled.
Sabrina relaxed and burst out laughing. “Oh, that! It’s nothing, Perce.”
His eyes narrowed. “Your nothing and my nothing might be quite different. What did you do? Out with it!”
“It was nothing,” she repeated. “I shot a thief, that’s all. It was on the retreat, when we were all running away from Berlin. Part of the road was pretty bad. We didn’t realize that a carriage behind us had broken an axle or linchpin. The military escort stopped to guard them while repairs were made. We were at the tail of the group that was still moving, and on a lonely stretch three highwaymen came out. Charlot doesn’t like guns, and, of course, they had their eyes on William so he couldn’t get at his pistol. So I shot one and wounded another, and the third ran away. I could have shot him, too, but the muff guns very inaccurate. Well, what’s so funny?
What are you laughing at?”
“Sorry,” Perce gasped, “I should have known your conscience was clear. You never could hide anything you thought was wrong.”
The moment he said it, his laughter stopped. The business of shooting highwaymen certainly explained the attitude of the aides, who would neither expect nor approve of any woman handling guns. But Sabrina had been taught to shoot from the time she was strong enough. Leonie had never forgotten the horrors a pistol had saved her from during the French Revolution, and how much more it could have saved her from if she had known how to use it properly. It was also true that Sabrina would regard the shooting of a thief as a perfectly acceptable act of minor importance. She might have been upset at the time, but she would have had no moral qualms about it. Highwaymen were vermin, and vermin were better dead.
What checked Perce’s amusement was not the past but the future. Would Sabrina be oppressed by what they had done? She was a very honest person and, as a child, would come weeping to confess her little peccadilloes. And this was, not a little peccadillo. I’ll have to take her home, Perce thought. The hell with the War Office. They’ll have to get their information from someone else.
“Well, of course my conscience is clear,” Sabrina had said, and then looked at him questioningly when his mirth dried up so suddenly.
“Is it, Brina?” he asked, starting to get out of his chair again.
She held him still with a hand on his shoulder. “Yes,” she said,” if you mean do I feel I’ve wronged William, I certainly don’t. I know it isn’t a popular opinion, but to my mind what’s sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose, too.” She felt Perce wince under her hand and cried, “Oh, no! That wasn’t why. Perce, I love you quite dreadfully. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Not just for spite.”
The Kent Heiress Page 16
