by Lisa Kleypas
She remembered her childhood, how anxious and alone she had been after her father had died. Her mother had been affectionate, but Marie's most important concern was and always would be herself. Some essentially childish element in Marie's nature would always prevent her from being able to fully love anyone else. As a little girl, Tasia hadn't understood that. She had believed herself unworthy of love. All her resentment and rebellion had been turned inward, against herself. And the way the church had of encouraging people to accept suffering and turn it to martyrdom…well, that hadn't influenced her for the better. Not a pleasant feeling, being a martyr. And so far it hadn't proved to be very profitable.
Did she deserve a chance at happiness? Did she owe it to herself? She wasn't certain of the answer. But what, if anything, did she owe to Luke? He was a worldly, intelligent man, fully aware of the choices he made and their consequences. He wanted to marry her because he believed it would be good between them. If he had that much faith, then surely she could come up with some of her own.
He said he loved her. Tasia was overwhelmed by the thought. She couldn't think of any reason why he would love her, when she came to him needing so much, with so little to give. But if he felt even a fraction of the pleasure that she felt in his company, perhaps it was enough.
She clasped her hands and closed her eyes fiercely tight, and prayed. Dear Lord, I don't deserve this…I'm afraid to hope…but I can't help it. I want to stay.
“I want to stay,” she said aloud, and realized she had her answer.
Luke slept on his back, his face turned to the side. He was pulled from a fathomless slumber by a stroke on his bare shoulder and a whisper in his ear. “Wake up, my lord.” Thinking it was a dream, he turned away with a grumble. “Come with me,” Tasia insisted, tugging at the sheet that covered him.
He yawned and muttered irritably. “Where?”
“Outside.”
“Whatever it is, can't we do it inside?”
Her brief laugh tickled his neck as she struggled to pull him to an upright position. “You need clothes for what I have in mind.”
Still more asleep than awake, Luke dressed in a minimum of clothes and left his feet bare. He gave her a quizzical frown as she applied herself to buttoning his shirt. She didn't quite look at him, but there was an air of eagerness about her. Taking his arm, she urged him to leave the cottage with her. The long hem of the silk robe trailed regally behind her as they went outside. A cool breeze helped to clear away some of Luke's sleepiness.
Tasia slipped her hand in his. “Come,” she said, using all her weight to drag him forward.
He wanted to ask what in hell she was doing, but she was so intent on tugging him along that he kept silent and followed. They skirted the edge of the pond and headed to the woods, walking across a carpet of prickly resined needles and leaves.
Luke winced as he stepped on a sharp pebble. “Almost there?” he asked.
“Almost.”
She didn't stop until they were surrounded by trees. The air was sweetly scented with moss, pine, and earth. A few points of stars winked through the tangled branches overhead, piercing the blackness of the forest. Luke was surprised—astonished—when Tasia turned to link her arms around his waist. She stood very still, leaning against him.
“Tasia, what—”
“Shhh.” She pressed her mouth to his chest. “Listen.”
They were both quiet. Gradually Luke became aware of the sounds around them: the hoot of an owl, the soft chirps and wing flapping of birds. The trill of crickets, the crackling, moaning sway of tree trunks. And rising above everything, the endless sighing of the wind through bowers of leaves. The trees stood with boughs entangled, like a congregation holding hands during a solemn hymn. The forest music soared to the sky and mingled there with other eternal rhythms.
Luke wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her hair. He felt her smile against his chest, and suddenly he was filled with love, drunk on it. Tasia tried to pull back a little, and he resisted, needing to keep her close.
“I want to give you something,” she said, straining away until he loosened his hold. She fumbled for his hand, and he realized she was cupping something in her palm. “Here.” She was slightly breathless. Her fingers opened, and he saw the bright gleam of gold against her skin. It was a heavy, masculine ring with some indiscernible engraving on the surface. “It belonged to my father. It's all I have left of him, except for my memories.” As Luke remained motionless, she tried it on his smallest finger. It fit perfectly. “There,” she said in satisfaction. “He always wore it on his index finger, but he wasn't nearly as large as you.”
Luke turned his hand, admiring the simple but exotic design. Then he looked at her upturned face, trying to conceal his dread. “Is this to say goodbye?” he asked hoarsely.
“No…” Her voice shook a little. Her eyes were as bright as moonstones as she returned his steady gaze. “It's to say I'm yours. In every way…for the rest of my days.”
He was frozen for a split second. All at once he kissed her hard and clutched her so brutally that she thought her bones might break. She didn't complain, however, only laughed in wild, unfamiliar joy until she had no more breath left.
“You'll be my wife,” he said with savage delight, lifting his mouth from hers.
“It won't be easy,” she warned, though she was smiling. “You'll probably want to divorce me.”
“You always expect the worst,” Luke accused, holding her tightly.
“I wouldn't be Russian if I didn't.” Her hands searched busily over his back, as if she couldn't keep them still.
Luke laughed. “Just what I deserve. A woman who's even more of a pessimist than I am.”
“No, you deserve better than me…so much better…”
He stopped her mouth with a ferocious kiss. “Never say that again,” he warned, when their lips finally parted. “I love you too much to listen to such nonsense.”
“Yes, sir,” she said meekly.
“That's better.” He examined the ring she had given him. “Something's inscribed on this. What does it say?”
Tasia shrugged. “Oh, it's just a sentiment that my father liked—”
“Tell me.”
She hesitated. “It says, ‘Love is a golden vessel, it bends but never breaks.’”
Luke was very still. Then he kissed her again, gently this time. “We'll be all right, you and I,” he whispered. “I promise.”
They held back from returning to the world immediately, deciding they could steal one more day together. Tasia was grateful for the reprieve. A promise had been made, but a sense of newness, even unease, still existed between them.
Tasia had never before talked to a man without having to guard her words. Luke knew about her past, her darkest secrets. Instead of making judgments, he defended her against her own doubts and self-accusation. He demanded the freedom of her body and her thoughts, and gave the same of himself. It was difficult for Tasia to adjust to the intimacy of it. Difficult, but not at all unpleasant, she decided drowsily, as she woke in his arms in a pool of afternoon sunlight. Opening her eyes, she found Luke watching her. How long had he been awake, guarding over her dreams?
“I can't believe it's really me, here in bed with you,” she murmured. “Am I dreaming? Am I really so far away from home?”
“No, you're not dreaming. But you are home now.” Luke eased the sheet down to her waist and slid his hand over her breast. The gold ring, warm from his skin, pressed lightly against the side of the shallow curve.
“My Uncle Kirill wouldn't approve of you. He doesn't like the English.”
“Your Uncle Kirill doesn't have to marry me. Besides, he would approve of me wholeheartedly if he knew how well I'm going to take care of you.” Idly he traced around her breast, where pearl-white skin edged soft pink. “I may not own a palace, my lady, but I'll keep you fed and sheltered. And I'll see to it that you're too busy to notice your humble surroundings.”
; “Southgate Hall isn't what anyone would call humble,” Tasia said wryly. “But I would be happy living in a cottage like this, as long as you're here.”
“And there's nothing else you want?”
“Well…” She slid him a provocative glance from beneath her lashes. “I would like some pretty dresses to wear,” she admitted, and he laughed.
“Whatever you want. Rooms full of dresses. A king's ransom of jewels.” He stripped the sheet away, admiring her slender white legs and feet. “Ostrich-skin shoes, silk stockings, ropes of pearls for your waist, and a fan of peacock feathers for your wrist.”
“Is that all?” she asked, laughing at the gaudy array he had described.
“White orchids for your hair,” he said after a moment's consideration.
“You'd make a spectacle of me.”
“But this is the way I prefer you—wearing nothing at all.”
“I prefer it also.” Tasia rolled on top of him, surprising them both with her boldness. “You're very nice to share a bed with,” she said, propping her elbows on his chest. She paused before adding self-consciously, “I didn't expect to like it so much.”
Luke's hand wandered over the smooth curve of her backside. “What did you expect?” he asked, amused.
“I thought it would be much more pleasant for a man than a woman. Certainly I didn't expect you to touch me the way you did, and…” She lowered her gaze to his chest, and a bright wash of color swept over her face. “I didn't think there would be so much…moving.”
“Moving,” Luke repeated softly. “You mean when I'm inside you?” She gave a small nod, and his chest went taut beneath her as he repressed a laugh. “Didn't anyone explain it to you?”
“Oh, after my engagement my mother admitted to me that a man and a woman ‘joined,’ but she never mentioned that anything happened afterward…you know, all the moving and the…”
“Climax?” he supplied gravely, as she foundered in abashed silence.
Tasia nodded, turning scarlet.
“Well, we could try it without so much moving,” he mused.
“No!”
He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Then you're satisfied with the way we've been doing it so far?”
“Oh, yes,” she said earnestly, her blush remaining as he laughed in delight.
Rolling over, Luke trapped her between his elbows and settled his weight on her. “So am I.” He captured her lips with a lingering kiss. “More than I've ever been in my life.”
Tasia wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling her pulse quicken. “I would never want to share a bed with anyone else,” she said, when he lifted his head. “When I was betrothed to Mikhail, it was all I could think about, having to let him touch me.”
Luke's expression changed, turning watchful and tender. “And you were afraid?”
She looked up at him with remembered distress. “There was a constant knot of dread in my stomach. Most of the time Mikhail seemed as indifferent to me as he was to all other women. But sometimes…he would stare at me with those strange yellow eyes, and he would ask me questions I couldn't answer. He said I reminded him of a hothouse flower, and that I knew nothing of the world or of men. He said it would please him to experiment with me. I had a fair idea what he meant, and it terrified me.” She paused as she saw the anger passing over Luke's face. “Is it wrong for me to talk about him?”
“No,” he soothed, kissing the space between her brows and her forehead until the lines of worry eased. “I want to share all your memories, even the bad ones.”
Tasia raised a slim hand to his face, caressing his lean cheek. “Sometimes you surprise me. You can be so kind and understanding…but then I remember how you were about Nan Pitfield.”
“The pregnant housemaid?” Luke smiled ruefully. “I can be an ass at times, as you well know. But you don't seem to have any hesitation about telling me. Most people don't dare stand up to me that way. When you came to the library and scolded me about Nan, I wanted to throttle you.”
Tasia smiled, remembering his fury. “I thought you would.”
He turned his lips into her palm. “But as I saw the way you were bristling with challenge, and felt your heart pounding against my hand, I wanted you so badly I couldn't bear it.”
“Did you?” She laughed in surprise. “I had no idea.”
“And later on I considered what you'd said. Much as I hated to admit it, you were right.” His mouth took on a self-mocking curve. “It's not easy keeping all my vices in check. Occasionally I need someone to point out when I'm being a stubborn fool.”
“I can do that,” Tasia said helpfully.
“Good.” He shifted positions, pulling her closer. “There'll be other arguments. I'll be arrogant and pigheaded, and you'll take me to task for it. We'll probably have some royal rows. But don't ever doubt that I love you.”
All too soon their idyll came to an end, and they faced the necessity of returning to Southgate Hall. “Couldn't we have another day?” Tasia asked wistfully as they strolled through a cool green meadow.
Luke shook his head. “I wish we could. But we've stayed away long enough. I have responsibilities—including a wedding to arrange. As far as I'm concerned, we're already married in the eyes of God. But I'd like to be married in the eyes of the courts as well.”
Tasia frowned. “I'm going to be married, and my family doesn't know. By now they're aware that I'm alive, but they have no idea where I am. I wish there was some way I could assure them I'm safe and happy.”
“No. That would make it easy for Nikolas Angelovsky to find you.”
“I wasn't asking for your permission,” Tasia said, annoyed by his refusal. “I only made an idle comment.”
“Well, put the idea out of your head,” he said brusquely. “I don't intend to spend the rest of my life waiting for Angelovsky to appear on my doorstep—but until I can think of something better, you'll keep your identity secret, and you won't communicate with your family.”
Tasia pulled her hand from his. “You needn't speak to me as if I were one of your servants. Or is that the way an English husband addresses his wife?”
“I'm only concerned for your safety,” Luke said mildly, his arrogance vanishing in an instant. He looked as innocent as a lamb—but Tasia wasn't fooled. He might try to conceal his domineering qualities now, but once they were married she would legally be his property, much as his horse was. It wouldn't be easy to manage him. But she was looking forward to the challenge.
The first thing Luke and Tasia did when they returned to Southgate Hall was find Emma and tell her they were to be married. As soon as she saw the two of them standing together, with Luke's arm around Tasia's waist, Emma seemed to understand everything in a flash.
Tasia had hoped Emma would be pleased by the news—in fact, she was fairly certain Emma would be very happy—but Emma's wild excitement far exceeded her expectations. The girl scampered back and forth across the great hall with boisterous screams, hugging anyone who crossed her path. Samson went into a similar paroxysm of joy, erupting into deep-throated barks as he bounded after Emma. “I knew you would come back,” Emma cried, nearly knocking Tasia to the floor. “I knew you would tell Papa yes! He saw me the morning before you both left, and he told me that you were going to marry him, even though you didn't know it yet.”
“He did?” Tasia gave Luke a shaming glance, her dark brows lowering over her pale eyes.
Luke pretended not to notice her silent rebuke, concentrating his own glare at Samson. The dog was rolling enthusiastically on the floor, scattering hair across the Aubusson carpet. “Why is it that every time I leave, I return to find this damned animal in the house?”
“Samson isn't an animal, he's part of the family,” Emma said defensively, and added on a gleeful note. “And now so is Miss Billings! Will we have to find a new governess now? I won't like anyone else half so well.”
“Yes, we'll have to find a new one. Miss Billings can't be Lady Stokehurst and your go
verness at the same time.” He glanced at Tasia, as if judging how much activity she could withstand. “She'd drop from exhaustion within a week.”
Although there was no sexual implication in his words, Tasia blushed, recalling how tired she had been after two nights of his lovemaking. Luke grinned as if he knew what she was thinking. “Now that you're no longer in my employ, Miss Billings, you'd better have Mrs. Knaggs show you to one of the guest rooms.”
“My old room is perfectly fine,” Tasia murmured.
“Not for my bride-to-be.”
“But I don't want—”
“Emma,” Luke interrupted, “choose a guest room for Miss Billings, and tell Seymour where her belongings are to be carried. And inform the housekeeper to have another place set at the table tonight. From now on Miss Billings will be taking her meals with us.”
“Yes, Papa!” Emma scampered away with Samson at her heels.
Left alone with Luke, Tasia frowned at him. “I hope you don't plan to visit me tonight,” she whispered sharply, knowing that was exactly what he intended.
He smiled at her, his blue eyes wicked. “I told you I don't like to sleep alone.”
“I've never heard of such an indecent arrangement!” She resisted as he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “My lord! One of the servants will see—”
“Even if we keep to our own beds, everyone will assume we're together. We may as well enjoy ourselves. As long as we're discreet, no one will think the worse of us.”
“I would.” Tasia stiffened with genuine outrage. “I-I will not fornicate with you while we're under the same roof as your innocent daughter! I would be the greatest of hypocrites if I ever attempted to give her moral instruction after that.”
“The horse is already out, Tasia. Too late to close the stable door.”
