“Chance.” She implored again.
His mouth moved yet lower. What? What?
“Ah!” She arched her head back. Wicked, wicked man.
Wicked, wicked Aubrey.
Hot licks followed by cool air. He was sucking, lapping her. Aubrey clutched at his shoulders at the same time he pushed her legs wider, holding her down so he could continue his sinful depravity.
“Très belle.” His voice rasped. She felt the words, she felt the heat, on parts of herself her own eyes had never seen. “Perfect. Pink. Rosy.” He pressed kisses there and then… “So wet.”
“Oh!” He’d slid a finger inside and moved it in such a way that had her pushing against him with her hips. She needed more. She needed…
She needed…
“Chance!” A spinning world sent her spiraling into the stars. A combination of pleasure so sweet, so acute, that she thought it might be pain rolled through her. He turned his finger, added more, and moved it inside of her, touching places that must have been designed by the devil himself.
It went on and on and on and yet when it was over, it wasn’t enough. She wanted him. She wanted him to cover her, to become a part of her, to invade her.
“Princesse,” he said the word like a prayer. He’d moved up her body again and began pressing kisses along her shoulder, her neck. When he found her mouth, she tasted herself on his lips.
And when he placed himself at her entrance, her need had built again.
“Princesse,” he whispered again.
He’d stilled and when Aubrey opened her eyes, she could hardly bear the intensity in his gaze.
“So precious. So worthy.” He moved into her slowly. “Mon Coeur.”
She’d never felt so full, so complete. Words failed her. She could only stare back at him, speaking with her eyes.
He buried himself deeper.
And again, deeper.
“Yes, Chance,” she answered finally, as though he’d asked her permission.
Only then did he begin moving, and much as he’d led her in the dance earlier that evening, he taught her the rhythm of love.
The magical pain inside grew again, only greater this time. The sinewy muscles in his arms pulsed beneath her hands. The friction between them fueled the journey.
And yet he teased her, building and breaking down her last defenses. By the time the white light shattered inside of her, she was certain she’d left this world.
Arrows of pleasure pierced and sliced their way through her body at the same time Chance increased his own pace and buried himself so completely that she was certain they’d become one.
Just as she thought he would find his own completion, he withdrew harshly, gasping and shuttering and hot liquid carrying his seed rained down on her abdomen as he took his release with a groan.
Only partly opening her eyes, she watched him rise from the bed and return with a cloth. His body gleamed in the candlelight. He used the cool washcloth to clean her, and then himself. Seeing such tenderness in one so strong touched her very soul. He was magnificent, physically, indeed. But Aubrey also saw his heart.
When he finally lay back down beside her, pulling her close and drawing the cover up, Aubrey sighed. She would sleep. They would rest. And then they would have tomorrow to be together again.
She could hardly wait for the sun to come up.
* * *
Wakefulness came slowly. Aubrey stretched, and as memories of the night before slipped into her consciousness, she reached along the mattress to reconnect with him. When her fingertips couldn’t locate his person, she opened her eyes. She was alone. A glance around the room revealed the Mr. Dog, too was gone.
She smiled. He had taken her pet outside rather than wake her.
Being made love to by Chance, by her Mr. Bateman, had been a revelation. The act she’d experienced in her marriage was not even comparable.
She was so very glad she’d been brave the night before. So glad she had told him, finally, what she’d wanted.
He’d called her his heart in the language of his youth. He may not have spoken of the word love, but he had loved her with his mouth, his hands, with his whole body.
Eager to see him, to look into his eyes, Aubrey rose and quickly cleaned and dressed. He must be having tea downstairs with Mr. and Mrs. Wooten. He had been nothing but cordial and charming to the hospitable couple.
Lacing her boots, she wondered if this feeling inside her was love. And if it was love, then what did it mean? Surely, he would return to London after his party. Perhaps he’d even ask her to join him.
The night had been an unforgettable one. It had been earth shattering for her.
Life changing.
Had it been the same for him? How could it not have been? Only he was a man, and he’d obviously known what he was doing. Nerves replaced some of her euphoria as she descended the stairs of the small farmhouse.
Aubrey dismissed them. He would reassure her, most certainly, when they could be alone again.
Mr. Dog jumped at her legs as she entered the kitchen.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bateman. Let me get you some tea. Such a shame Mr. Bateman was called away. And on your wedding trip, no less.”
Aubrey shook her head, uncertain that she’d heard the woman correctly. “Called away?”
Mrs. Wooten nodded, but then turned to look at her questioningly. “Said he’d gotten word of problems at his estate. Surely he told you?”
Feeling as though she’d been punched in the stomach, but not wanting to be pitied, Aubrey nodded. “Yes, oh, yes, of course. I’ll just check with Mr. Daniels to see about the carriage.” She lifted Mr. Dog into her arms and almost as though she was in a daze, walked to the door and stepped outside. The small kitchen suddenly seemed to lack enough air for her to breathe properly.
He would appear from behind the barn or walk up behind her. Mrs. Wooten had to have been mistaken.
Preencess…
“I would not leave you without a word. I would not leave without saying goodbye, surely you realize this?”
She had believed him. Why would he leave her now? After the night they had shared.
It must be a mistake. It must be!
“I would not do that to you.”
She walked all around the house and around the barn and then inside the barn. She even walked into the field a bit, toward the road.
He was nowhere.
She would check the barn again. Mrs. Wooten must be wrong.
When she stepped through the large doors, this time she was greeted with sounds and her heart lifted until she realized it was Mr. Daniels who had returned with the repaired carriage.
“Is… Mr. Bateman with you?” She hated to ask. He cannot have left.
Mr. Daniels glanced up. “He acquired a horse in the village. Left before sunup. Will you be ready to leave shortly, Mrs. Bloomington? We’ve a brand new wheel. Shouldn’t have any trouble with it.”
Mrs. Bloomington.
Her heart dropped to the soles of her feet.
Mr. Daniels paused in what he’d been doing and gave her a hard look. “You will be ready to leave today?”
What if he returned for her? What if he made it to London, and then to Margate, and then realized he’d made a mistake? An irrational part of her thought that as long as she waited for him here, there would be hope.
But he had never given her any reason to believe that he would promise himself to her. She shook her head. “He left without saying goodbye.”
The expression on Mr. Daniels face changed to one of pity. “Probably for the best, if you don’t mind my saying so. Wouldn’t have looked good for you to arrive in London, unchaperoned, with a gentleman companion.”
He was right. Aubrey knew that Mr. Daniels was right. Was he going to tell Winifred and Milton upon his return to Rockford Beach? Likely, he would. They would surely think she’d given herself fully over to the devil.
And perhaps, in a way, she had.
Chapter 13
Aubrey
Aubrey returned to the house slowly. After folding the bedding and rinsing out the washcloths they used—she gathered her belongings and made one last inspection.
He’d left nothing of himself. The room seemed emptier now than it had when they’d arrived. Had that really been less than twenty-four hours ago?
She picked up Mr. Dog’s leading string and descended to the kitchen below. After thanking the Wootens and promising she would visit next time she was in the area, she finally crossed the garden to where Mr. Daniels stood beside the carriage, waiting impatiently.
When she lifted Mr. Dog inside, he hopped onto the seat, sniffed around, hopped down and seemingly confused, turned to look at her. If she was not mistaken, she’d guess he was looking for a certain gentleman with a vaguely French accent.
“He is gone,” Aubrey told the dog. “It is just you and me now.”
She waved goodbye, one last time, out the door and then climbed in to sit beside her pet.
At least she had Mr. Dog.
As the carriage pulled out of the yard, Aubrey sat feeling stunned. It was as though Chance had not existed at all, as though he’d been nothing more than a figment of her imagination.
Princesse
She closed her eyes and memories of the night before washed over her. He had worshipped her with his body. He’d made her feel more sensual, more beautiful, more lovable than she had in her entire life.
Aubrey lifted her feet to the bench and hugged her knees. The pain of his betrayal felt so great that her body couldn’t process it. She was numb.
Lost.
Mr. Dog jumped up and licked at her chin. “We’ll be all right,” she reassured the pup as much as herself. The words came out flat, though. They must be true. She’d endured worse, hadn’t she? “We’ll be all right,” she said again, this time in an attempt to convince herself.
As the miles passed, anger gradually crept in to fill the emptiness inside. He’d promised her that he’d not leave without saying goodbye… and then he’d done exactly that! Things had changed between the two of them, hadn’t they? When they’d made love?
True, he had indicated her over and over again that they would part from one another in London, that they must say goodbye. But.
Aubrey blinked. Making love had changed all of that, hadn’t it?
But it hadn’t
The overbearing, dishonest, dissolute no good cocky rogue! How dare he sneak out of her bed after everything they’d shared and run away without having the decency to say goodbye! How dare he!
Mr. Daniels stopped at a clean but sparse inn before nightfall and she felt none of the temerity she’d felt before when signing the register for a room. She was not a timid and innocent girl. She was a woman. She’d taken a lover even.
Lying in the strange bed that night, however, her righteous indignation fled.
He’d pushed her away from him on more than one occasion. He’d not pursued her. She had disrobed in front of him. What did she expect? She’d been so forward with him that he’d had no choice but to make love to her. And then he’d felt he had no choice but to abandon her before they arrived in London. He likely left fearful that she’d cling to him with pleas and tears.
And she might have.
If she’d acted like a proper lady, like a moral lady, then he would not have felt it necessary to flee.
She curled up in the strange bed, berating herself—questioning things she’d said to him. Replaying the numerous warnings he’d expressed more than once.
This was her fault. She had only herself to blame.
* * *
The next day, late in the afternoon when the carriage weaved its way through the busy London streets to her new home, her new beginning, she did her utmost to summon some of her former enthusiasm. She was on her own. She was not dependent upon any man.
By the time Mr. Daniels halted the vehicle outside of a brick covered, three story stately townhouse, she’d garnered enough strength to face any servants who might be in residence. She climbed out on to the sidewalk, holding Mr. Dog securely, and stared up at it in awe.
What occurred next, was completely unexpected.
The front door opened and an elegant gentleman appeared, followed by two uniformed footmen and then four other servants, one friendly looking, older lady, two uniformed maids, and a buxom woman with flour on her face.
The gentleman bowed. “Mrs. Bloomington? Welcome to Autumn House. I am Mr. Carrington, your butler, and this is Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper.” As he introduced each servant, they stepped forward and bowed or curtsied in her direction.
Aubrey swallowed hard. She’d sent word that she would be coming but had not given any particular day that she would arrive. She managed to smile and nod. And then she introduced them to Mr. Dog. It was as though they knew, even, that she would be arriving with a pet—as though one of them had been waiting by the window, watching for her.
As the housekeeper led Aubrey inside, Mr. Daniels and the two manservants began unloading her trunks. She could never have predicted she’d be met with such a warm welcome and for the first time in two days did not feel so very alone in the world.
Fresh flowers had been placed on pedestals inside the foyer, and an elegant staircase wound up and around to where a balcony encircled the foyer from above.
The wood gleamed and along with the fresh scent of the flowers, a faint hint of lemon oil hung in the air.
“Your suite has been prepared.”
Aubrey shook her head in disbelief. Milton had mentioned that the town house had been sitting empty—that she would have to have it aired out, refurnished, and that she’d have to hire help. But that was not the case at all!
“If you wouldn’t mind showing me around a little?” She asked Mrs. Smith tentatively.
“But of course, Missus. I’m only just learning the layout of where everything is, myself.”
“So, you have not been working here long?” Aubrey had planned on contacting an employment agency. Was it possible that Milton and Winifred’s hearts had softened, and they’d wanted to assist her in setting up her new home?”
“No, Missus. The agency sent all of us over just yesterday. Dust everywhere, there was. But we were told to have it in tip top shape for you. Required an army, for certain. New furniture was brought in, linen, dishes. Right this way.” They’d ascended the stairs and turned down a gleaming corridor. Mrs. Smith then opened one of the doors and held it wide for Aubrey to enter. “The mistress’s suite.”
Aubrey stepped inside, turned in a circle and blinked, unable to accept that all of this was real.
A massive canopied bed made up in blues and golds took up the center of the room and sunlight slanted through the windows onto an ornate looking rug. All of the furniture did, in fact, appear brand new. And more flowers had been set out making the room cheerful and welcoming.
One of the younger looking maids appeared in the doorway.
“Chrissy will act as your lady’s maid and a modiste will arrive whenever you are settled in, in order to take your measurements.”
“Oh, but…” Aubrey would need to speak with her solicitor. She wasn’t certain that her annuity was going to be able to pay for all of these expenses.
“Simply inform me, when you are ready, and we’ll send for her immediately.”
Aubrey blinked again, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. It seemed that her brother and sister in law hadn’t hated her so very much after all.
“Thank you,” she finally managed.
* * *
Feeling refreshed from a warm bath, a good meal, and a surprisingly satisfying night’s sleep, early the next morning, Aubrey explored her new home, unable still, to overcome her feelings of awe. Everything from the kitchen, to the library, to the two connected drawing rooms were perfect for what she had in mind. She pictured a poetry reading going on in one while discussions could be carried on in the other. A piano forte had even been placed in the corner of
one of them and the furniture looked comfortable and welcoming.
As she stood in the largest of the two drawing rooms, Mr. Carrington appeared.
“Mrs. Smith informed me that you had a few questions for me, Madam. How may I be of service to you?”
Aubrey nodded. In all her life, she had never imagined that she’d come to have her very own butler. And Mr. Carrington was no slouch of a butler either, it seemed. Mrs. Smith said he’d formerly worked at a duke’s residence. She placed him in age to be somewhere between his late forties and his early sixties. He retained a full head of hair, was sturdy looking and fit, and might very well be considered handsome even. Overall, he encompassed an air of dependability.
“I—” she began. “I did not expect—“ She gestured all around. “Everything to have been prepared so exquisitely for my arrival. I cannot help but wonder… how?” She really was not explaining her question very well.
But her butler had no difficulty in knowing what she asked. “My understanding, madam, is that your solicitor, a Mr. Burleson, is managing everything according to the terms of your late husband’s will. Mr. Daniels will be more than happy to take you to meet with him. Mr. Burleson works out of an office on Bond Street. Mr. Daniels can take you today, if you wish.”
“Is not Mr. Daniels returning to Rockford Beech?”
“He has been informed that he is to remain in service to you. That is my understanding.”
Aubrey nodded thoughtfully but even more confused. “Yes, yes. I do believe I ought to meet with this Mr. Burleson.”
Less than an hour later, she sat in a comfortable leather chair across from the man who had taken over for the solicitor who had originally handled her estate. The law offices had been bought out and she, along with all of his other clients, were now represented by the gentleman sitting across from her. This was an apparently recent turn of events.
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