* * *
Arlette’s resolve was weakened by the exhaustion of the journey and her body driven on by the need to be close to him. She felt the strength of his arms and the warmth of his masculine body. She made no effort to free herself from that tight circle of his arms and William had no intention of letting her go while she was content to remain there. She could feel the hard muscles of his broad chest and smell his maleness. A tautness began in her breast, a delicious ache that was like a dangerous, honeyed warmth.
Her body melted against his and his hands held her close. On a sigh she welcomed his hand stroking her nape as they sank on to the bed. Her breath came in hard, shallow gasps. Through the clothes separating their hungry flesh she could feel the heat of him and found herself yearning for the unknown. Her whole body aching, she slipped her hand inside his shirt and placed light kisses on his neck before finding his lips once more. A strange, alien feeling fluttered within her breast and she was halted for a brief passage of time when she found her lips entrapped with his once more, and though they were soft and tender, they burned with a fire that scorched her. Closing her eyes, she yielded to it, melting against him.
* * *
William tasted the sweet, honeyed softness of her mouth, finding himself once more at the mercy of his emotions, when reason and intelligence were powerless. Savouring each intoxicating pleasure, he gloried in her innocence, her purity, painfully aware of the trembling weakness in her scantily clad body pressed against him.
His conscience chose that moment to resurrect itself. Expelling a ragged breath and out of sheer self-preservation, he flung himself away as he fought to reassemble his senses and bring his desire under control. What was he doing? He berated himself for treating Arlette as he would one of his sexually experienced women he had known throughout his years of soldiering. But she was not like them. She was his wife. She was uncompromised and untainted. Suddenly he pulled away from her, rolling back to the other side of the bed, his eyes open wide.
‘William...’ Arlette murmured when she felt him pull away from her. Kissed and caressed into almost unconscious sensibility, she opened her eyes in a daze of suspended yearning, awakened passion glowing in the velvety depths of her eyes. Suddenly she felt empty and afraid, embarrassed by her forwardness and unable to understand why he had left her. She didn’t want him to stop kissing her. With her heart pounding, she propped herself up on her elbows. His eyes were translucent in the ghostly candlelight, his lean features starkly etched. ‘Please don’t go.’ She slipped across the bed to him and lay her head on his chest. ‘Why must you thrust me away?’
For a long moment neither spoke. William’s gaze was smouldering, his breathing ragged, the throbbing ache in his loins reminding him how much he wanted to make love to her. With her hair tumbling around her in a glorious silken mass, she lay like a beautiful pagan goddess among the ruins of her bed. He drew her head away from his chest as she placed soft, tantalising little kisses against his throat. It was a provocative movement and she was too innocent and inexperienced to be aware of the devastating effect it was having on his already ravaged self-control. Riven with guilt, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed them to the soft centre of her palm.
‘The reason is because although I want you very badly, I promised you a period of grace before I make you my wife in every sense. I will do my absolute utmost to abide by that. I will not break that agreement by seducing you the first time we stop for the night,’ he said, getting off the bed.
‘I understand,’ she whispered, wanting to conceal how deeply she was affected by what had just happened between them.
William reached out and gently caressed her cheek, then he turned. Her eyes followed him out of the room. Not until then did her mind come together from the far reaches of her senses where it had fled the instant William had taken her in his arms.
* * *
In his chamber and with the landing separating them, William took stock of what had just happened. He could not deny that he wanted Arlette more than he’d wanted anything in his life, more than he could believe possible. For the time he had been back in England, the tension and explosive emotions her nearness elicited, and being unable to give way to his feelings because of his betrothal to Marian, had been hell. Like a siren in Greek mythology whose singing was believed to lure sailors to destruction on the rocks, Arlette’s reappearance in his life—the very knowledge of knowing she was his wife and within reach—had lured him into her arms and her vulnerability had finally broken all bounds of his restraint.
* * *
After a fitful night and eager to be away, William went to Arlette’s room to see what was keeping her. There was no reply to his knock so he gingerly opened the door and looked inside. She was sound asleep. Her hair tumbled about the pillows and her eyes were closed, her long dark lashes lying like soft shadows on her rose-red cheeks. Her sweet lips were parted as she breathed softly, her chest rising and falling evenly beneath the covers, which hid the tempting roundness of her breasts. As William was about to wake her he lingered, looking down at her in wonder, savouring this moment of peace and reluctant to wake her. Studying her carefully, he thought that in sleep she looked more like a child than a woman, harmless, innocent and uncommonly lovely. It was reluctance that he touched her shoulder to wake her.
Opening her eyes, she looked up into William’s dark blue eyes.
‘Come,’ he said gently. ‘The sun’s been up two hours or more and it’s time we were on our way.’
Still extremely tired and aching in every limb, Arlette forced herself to sit up, not even questioning his presence in her room as memories of the night before came flooding back.
‘I’ll get dressed.’
‘How are you, Arlette?’
‘Fine, considering the night I’ve had.’
‘I apologise for my behaviour, Arlette, but I acted as any gentleman would when he knew a lady to be in distress.’
Recalling exactly how it had been, how he had held her firmly against his hard chest and caressed her with his warm and dangerous lips, rendering her almost helpless, Arlette felt her cheeks suffuse with hot colour.
‘I was not in distress. I was angry because that man had the audacity to enter my room. Besides, it was more than that and you know it,’ she told him with a trace of indignation. ‘For the duration of our being together, I would be obliged if you would restrain your ardour and do not behave in that way again. You did say there would be nothing of that nature between us until we reached Warwickshire.’
‘But you were tempted.’
William’s smile was infuriating, and the warm sensuality of his voice almost stole Arlette’s breath. If he was trying to destroy her resistance, he was succeeding admirably. At that moment some indefinable alchemy made them extremely aware of each other and their eyes became caught in that age-old way of would-be lovers. Arlette’s vulnerability was laid bare for him to pierce the guard she had resolved to keep on her emotions.
‘When you were in my arms I felt it in your response. Do not deny it, Arlette.’
‘Am I so predictable?’
‘You are to me. Now get dressed and come down and have some breakfast.’
On a sigh, reluctant to leave her warm cocoon, Arlette shoved the covers back and swung her legs out of bed, unaware as she did so that the bodice of her shift gaped open to reveal the ripe plumpness of her breasts, unconscious of the delightful vision she presented.
Not quite out of the door, William turned and looked at her once more. ‘It is not my intention to hurt you, Arlette,’ he said, speaking softly, his eyes feasting on the glorious exposure of her breasts and admiring the slender shapeliness of her legs before she hastily covered them with a sheet, ‘and for the time being I shall try to keep my ardour under control, no matter how my desire for you might overwhelm me.’
‘Thank you,’ she uttered tightly. ‘Now will you please l
eave and let me get dressed.’
Meeting her gaze again, William lifted a querying black eyebrow. Arlette could only wonder at his thoughts as she struggled to maintain her composure beneath his perusal.
‘Would you like me to stay and assist you? I am more than willing to oblige you.’
Arlette flashed him a look, seeing a flurry of wicked thoughts coursing through his mind. ‘Certainly not,’ she replied. ‘Now please go away.’
‘Why? Are you afraid of letting me come too close? Are you afraid that, because I have you here alone, I will force you to submit to my evil desires and rob you of your innocence?’
The husky resonance of his voice almost snatched Arlette’s breath away and suddenly she was unsure of herself. ‘Yes, I am,’ she admitted. ‘After your assaults on my person last night, I believe I have good reason to be concerned.’
William laughed, his teeth flashing white from between his parted lips. ‘At least you’re truthful. But I didn’t assault you. The feelings were mutual.’
Irritated by his dalliance, getting out of bed she crossed to the door and pushed him out on to the landing. ‘I think it’s time you went to prepare the horses, so out you go and leave me alone, you compromising rogue. I will dress in private.’
When he had left her Arlette gathered her clothes together and dressed. After breaking her fast, mutely she followed William outside, coming awake the moment she felt the fresh, early morning air on her face. Taking a deep breath, she mounted her horse and followed William out of the inn yard.
Chapter Ten
As their journey progressed, Arlette felt a strange security in the presence of her companion. He knew the villages and byways well, having travelled them many times when he had been a boy and he had accompanied his father to London. Looking large and forbidding astride his large bay horse, with a pistol at his belt and a sword hanging from his saddle, he would instil caution in the meanest robber.
A lightening of spirits seemed to come over them both. Perhaps it was because they were conscious of nearing their destination, or because the very fact that they were alone was weaving a spell around them, but whatever the reason Arlette felt a whole new world inviting her to explore, becoming pleasantly aware of the beauty and strangeness all around her.
Riding beside William, she listened in silent admiration as he ardently pointed out places of interest to her. It was clear to her how much he loved England, how much he had missed it, for it was like wine to his soul. They rode into a quiet valley sheltered by trees. A stream tumbled its way through the centre. Unfastening the bag containing the food William had purchased from the inn before leaving, they left the horses to graze and found a secluded spot beneath the trees.
Arlette sat on the grass in the shade, her back propped against a stout tree. The day had all the drowsy beauty and heady scents of midsummer, which drifted into her senses. She munched her bread and cheese in silence, forever conscious of William’s quiet presence within her reach. Appreciative of the view, she gazed along the length of the valley. Enthralled, a feeling of peace engulfed her. Allowing her thoughts to dwell on what had occurred at the inn and William’s ardour, in a sense she became like someone who had fallen under some kind of enchantment. Unbeknown to her the air and the exertions of the ride had brought colour to her cheeks and her face had softened, her lovely eyes glowing jewel bright.
‘This is a lovely place,’ she murmured, turning to look at her companion. When she caught his eyes she sensed he was feeling exactly as she felt, that the place had cast its own special enchantment on him, too.
Having eaten his fill, William was lying on the grass, his head propped up on his hand. His gaze did an appreciative sweep of the land spread out all around him. ‘It certainly is. I’ve been away so long that I’d almost forgotten how beautiful England is. How I longed for this when I was fighting on the Continent or kicking my heels in Bruges.’
‘You were gone a long time, William.’
‘Not by choice. It wasn’t what any of us would have chosen, but it was far better than living in England under Cromwell’s rule.’
Turning towards her, he eyed her casually. Something in his expression made Arlette’s breath catch in her throat and look away. A warm glow spread inside her and she felt a brazen longing to be as close to him as she had been the previous night. She liked being with him—just the two of them. She was beginning the think this self-imposed abstinence was silly. She desperately wanted to experience the passion he could offer her, the kind of passion she had never known existed until he had come back into her life. She knew she was falling in love with him and she wanted him to be with her always, to be there when she woke in the mornings, for him to touch and kiss her again, for him to go on saying he loved her over and over again.
* * *
William lay still, contemplating Arlette’s profile. She was totally at ease and unaware of the watchful interest of his eyes. He watched as she rested her head back and licked her lips as if savouring the last crumb of bread. He could not move. He could only stare at the upward curve of her mouth and the exposed creamy flesh of her throat. Gazing at her in rueful reflection, memories of what had occurred between them the night before assailed his consciousness. He recalled how it had felt to hold her close, how, when she had risen from the bed, the neckline of her shift had gaped open to reveal the soft plumpness of her breasts and high peaks of the lustrous, rose-red nipples.
The recollection stirred and raked the red-hot embers in his mind. His eyes dark and brooding, leisurely he reached out and trailed a finger gently on the flesh of her forearm exposed beneath the sleeve of her gown, his memory expanding, the vision bringing a smile to his lips and a narrowing to his eyes, and he could see in his mind’s eye the look on her face when she had responded angrily to the intruder who had entered her room, her eyes as vindictive and sharp as a bird’s beak that could pick a man’s bones clean. But now he saw how soft and flushed her face was in repose, her thick lashes making soft shadows on her cheeks and her hair a glorious halo of golden light.
Arlette was acutely aware of William’s gentle touch on her arm. The intensity, the warmly intimate look in his eyes held her transfixed, its warmth igniting a flame within her blood. Her delicately beautiful face was framed by her halo of hair, shifting in the gentle, warm breeze blowing up the valley, and the effect of William’s gaze was vibrant and alarmingly alive.
‘Should we be getting on our way, do you think?’ she asked, having no wish to leave this lovely place.
‘There’s no hurry. We haven’t spoken two words together since we began to eat.’
‘You want to talk?’
‘It would be nice.’
‘Why, what is it, William? Having an attack of conscience, or is it guilt?’
‘Both,’ he replied with a harsh, embittered laugh. ‘We haven’t spoken of that unpleasantness when I found out about Marian’s infidelity. I have thought long and hard about it. I should not have said the things I did—for which I can only apologise and pray you will forgive me. If I could only take back those terrible things I said to you, I would. The guilt I feel where you are concerned is because I wanted you from the moment I saw you again on my return to England, when I was betrothed to Marian.’
She looked at him steadily. ‘I cannot forget the things you said to me, even though I know they were spoken in haste and anger. They were hurtful and distressing. You need to understand why I didn’t tell you about Marian and James. I tried to persuade her to tell you herself. I didn’t want to be the one to tear your life apart because I didn’t want to hurt you.’
Getting to his knees, he moved closer to her, putting his hand under her chin and tilting her face to his. He was thankful she did not resist. ‘I do understand—more than you realise.’
‘Your pride was badly hurt by her betrayal.’
‘Yes, it was,’ William acknowledged quietly. ‘How per
ceptive you are.’
‘Not really,’ she replied. She loved him enough to see what was in his heart. She sighed, tilting her head to one side. ‘I’m a romantic, William, and when I look into the eyes I want to gaze into for the rest of my life, I want them to be clear, to see straight into your heart without the trace of a shadow between us. I realise and understand why you reacted as you did when you found out about Marian and James and I can’t pretend that it didn’t hurt. I didn’t find that easy to deal with. Now it’s up to you to deal with it.’
‘I will. I have. Your devotion and loyalty to Marian was commendable, Arlette. You were within your rights not to tell me something she had told you in confidence. I would expect nothing less of you. Had I not been so blind and my time taken up with affairs concerning the retrieval of Arlington Court, I would have seen for myself what was happening right before my eyes. When I found out, my anger was all consuming. I should not have taken it out on you and I have hated myself ever since with a virulence that was overwhelming. I should not have put you in the position of demanding that you betray Marian’s confidence and Marian should not have asked it of you. You were placed in an impossible situation, I know that. I was betrothed to the sweetest girl, yet it was you I wanted, and I hated myself for betraying Marian. Can you imagine how that made me feel about myself?’
‘You told me you didn’t trust me.’
‘As a matter of fact I would trust you above all others. Nothing could change the way I feel about you.’
‘And yet, feeling like this, would you have married Marian?’
‘No. Even if she hadn’t been in love with Sefton, I doubt I would have gone through with it. You have feelings for me, Arlette, that I know.’
‘Yes, I do, but giving you my love is giving you the power to break my heart. I trust you will not do that.’
Reunited at the King's Court Page 21
