A Woman of Passion (52 page)

Shrew withdrew his weight and sat back on his heels. “That was spectacular, my love, and well worth the wait.” He stroked her breasts, softening now with surfeit. “Your body is so lush, I want to watch you walking about without your clothes.”

When Bess hesitated, he said, “Surely, you're not shy with me?”

“No, love. Your anointing was so thorough, I'm full of you.”

He laughed. “I'm sorry—it's been so long.” He picked up her goblet of wine and a clean napkin. “Open for me, beauty.” He dipped in the linen and watched with avid eyes as she let her knees fall apart, then arched her mons for him. She shuddered as he laved her in wine, then dabbed her dry. “Let me carry you to bed.”

“I thought you wanted to watch me walk.”

“Later—the wine has given me other ideas.” He lifted her high against his heart and carried her through to the adjoining chamber. He laid her on the bed and, lifting one of her legs, removed the black lace stocking with its bright garter. Then he lifted her other leg and did the same. He kissed her bare toes, then drew the tip of his tongue along the high arch of her sole. “First, I want to watch you writhe again.”

Bess drew in a swift breath, knowing where his tongue would lead. She was not disappointed, though he teased her unmercifully with the length of time it took to reach his goal. But once he did, she couldn't believe how quickly he was able to arouse her again. As she watched his dark head moving between her legs and felt the thrusts of his powerful tongue, the intimacy of the act drove her wild. When her climax came, it was so hard and fast she arched high off the bed, thrusting her mons against his hungry mouth. When he withdrew his tongue and covered the inside of her thighs with kisses, she thought her very bones would melt. When she could speak again, she said, “That felt so lovely, I want to do it to you. Get the wine; I want to drive you wild.”

Shrewsbury came up out of a deep sleep and his pulses began to race the moment he knew whose bed he occupied, whose woman's scent enveloped him, and whose
lips brushed against his. To be awakened by a kiss from Bess was a fantasy he'd indulged in for years. His cock began to fill, and he reached for her with joy. “Sweetheart, I'll never have enough of you.”

Bess laughed softly. “Darling, that's very flattering, but I woke you because it's four o'clock. You must go now.”

He groaned as her words rubbed harshly against the grain of what he wished to do. “I can't leave you,” he protested stubbornly.

“You must. Though I am mistress of Chatsworth, I don't believe I can allow you to tuck your long legs beneath the breakfast table across from my mother and Marcella.”

He groaned again, realizing the truth of her words. Their liaison must be kept secret to guard her good name and to protect the children. Reluctantly, he swung his legs from the bed as Bess lit the bedside candles. His eyes began to search out his clothes, scattered in haste across the chamber, but his gaze was drawn back to the woman on the bed. She reached for her bedgown, and he watched her cover her beautiful breasts and shoulders. “If I had my way, I'd never let you get dressed again. I'd keep you naked in a locked chamber whose only furnishing was a bed.”

Bess smiled. “A lavish compliment indeed. Now I'll give you one.” She came around to his side of the bed and sank to the carpet between his naked thighs. “For the first time in years, perhaps for the first time in my life, I feel replete. I enjoy matching you in sensuality. Your body has the ability to satisfy mine, as you always promised me it would, and I thank God for it.”

He cupped her face between his hands. There were so
many things he wanted to say, but there was no time. “You are a part of me. When can I come again?”

“Darling, you cannot. June arrives with the dawn. My sons are finished college; they will be home any day. They are far too old and wise for us to pull the wool over their eyes.”

“Hell and damnation!” he swore, searching his brain for a solution to his dilemma. He could feel her lush breasts brush against his testes and he wanted to hold her forever. “I'll make Rufford or Worksop a safe haven for us. I'll send you a note.”

As Shrewsbury rode home in utter frustration, his thoughts were obsessed by the woman he had just left. She might be replete, but he was not, and strangely it had little to do with sex. Making love with Bess most of the night had certainly left him sated, but at this moment he was more dissatisfied than he'd ever been in his life. He wanted to be with her morning, noon, and night. He wanted to talk with her, make her laugh, ride over their acres together, eat with her, bathe with her. He wanted her to share his houses, share his children, share his life. He wanted to carry her to bed every night and wake up every morning with her beside him.

He longed to cover her with jewels, swathe her in fur, and shout to the world that she was his and his alone. He wanted to possess her, body and soul, and he knew he would not know a moment's peace until she fully committed to him and vowed her eternal love. A foul oath fell from Shrewsbury's lips. All Bess wanted was her bloody freedom! She had made him promise they would be lovers and nothing more.

His knees gripped his stallion's belly and his resolve hardened. She thought she could wrap him about her little finger. She had extracted the promise so she would
be free to leave him any time she chose, and in a vulnerable moment he had given his word. Well, some promises were made to be broken, and this was one of them. Freedom was the last thing he'd let her have. He would mount a relentless campaign and force her to yield to his wishes. He would be satisfied with nothing less than complete and unconditional surrender.

B
ess was well aware that George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, was more than a match for her. If anyone in the world had a stronger will than she, it was Shrewsbury. He was so dominant, he even imposed his wishes on Elizabeth Tudor when the mood took him.

At the moment Bess knew that Shrewsbury was in thrall with her, but she also realized that he wouldn't let her have her own way for long. If she wanted that wedding ring on her finger, she would have to plan her strategy with cunning. He had been trapped in a loveless marriage most of his life, and now that he was at last free, it would take extremely clever maneuvering to get him to put his neck in the noose again.

Bess acknowledged that if Shrewsbury had not suddenly become a widower, she would have been more than content to be secret lovers for the rest of their lives. Wild horses could not have dragged her into a fourth marriage; she was far too ambitious for her children to pour the wealth she had accumulated into a husband's coffers. But Shrewsbury was different. He was the wealthiest and
most powerful peer in the land, with eight principal houses and castles, in addition to the ones in London and at Chelsea on the riverside. He owned vast tracts of land in five counties and was lord lieutenant of three of them. He was also her heart's desire.

Bess asked herself, what was the irresistible lure that attracted her? Was it the man himself, his wealth, his houses, his power, or his noble title? She was honest enough to admit that she was in love with all of these things. He represented the greatest challenge of her life. Not only did she want him with all her heart, she needed him to love her enough to make her Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury.

He sent her a gift of rubies. It was an exquisite brooch in the shape of a crescent moon. Bess smiled her secret smile and pinned it to her gown so that it curved provocatively about one of her nipples. Two days later Bess received his note inviting her to meet him at Worksop Manor. She blithely ignored it. A second note arrived, furiously demanding why she had not kept their rendezvous. She sent a very sweet reply explaining that his invitation had come too late for her to change her plans.

He wrote again, giving her the time and place for their next tryst, and Bess read his towering impatience between the lines. Though she longed to go to him, Bess was determined to listen to her head and not her heart. She wrote back and explained that her sons had just arrived home and that it would be impossible for her to get away.

His next letter was not an invitation, it was an ultimatum. He threatened that if she did not come to him at Worksop, he would come to her, no matter the consequences. The next day Bess arrived at Sheffield on horseback with all three of her daughters in tow. Shrewsbury
greeted her with formality, his blue eyes blazing his anger at the games she was playing.

Bess hid her amusement. “It was such a beautiful day for a ride. June is such a lovely month, don't you think?”

“Too lovely to waste,” he said pointedly. “It's almost over!”

Her heart hammered at the sight of him, and she was thrilled to the core that he could not hide his frustration. “My daughters wanted to visit yours, and of course Francie and Anne Herbert have been friends all their lives. Since they are both newlyweds, they will have much to talk about.”

“My son and Anne may be married, but they have separate households here at Sheffield until they become old enough to cohabit,” he said repressively.

“Shrew, they are mad in love. 'Tis cruel to keep them apart. Still, they do say abstinence builds character.” She watched the muscle in his jaw clench like a lump of iron.

Bess saw Grace peeping over the banister of the ornate staircase and called to her gaily, “Don't be shy, darling. We've come especially to see you.”

Grace ran down the stairs and Bess caught her and swung her around in the air. “Don't you ever slide down the banister? That's what I love to do.”

Grace looked at her father's forbidding face and said, “We're not allowed to.”

“But your father loves to play games!” Bess said mischievously.

“Not
this
particular game,” he warned Bess.

She chose to ignore his warning, thoroughly enjoying the undercurrents of sexual tension that coiled between them. Bess saw his other daughters and Anne hovering up on the landing. “Why don't we all go for a ride? You
can show me about Sheffield's great park; it's too lovely to spend the day indoors.”

The young ladies were so eager to join Bess and her daughters that Shrewsbury had little choice in the matter. At the stables his two older sons, Francis and Gilbert, decided to join the party. “I should have brought my sons along. You boys would have such great fun together. Why don't you come and visit them at Chatsworth?” she suggested, ignoring Shrewsbury's grim face.

“May we come too, Bess?” Grace begged.

“It's very rude to invite yourself, and you must not call the lady
Bess,”
her father said sharply.

“I gave the girls permission to call me Bess, Lord Talbot, though you may call me Lady St. Loe if you prefer.” She watched him grind his teeth and knew she was teasing him unmercifully. “My lord, you are welcome at Chatsworth anytime, providing you bring your lovely daughters of course.”

They all set off at a gallop across the park, but Shrewsbury took a firm hold of Bess's reins, forcing her to remain at his side. “I don't like this game, Vixen.”

“That is obvious. Your face is as dark and forbidding as a thundercloud. Are you not pleased to see me, after I rode all the way to Sheffield?”

“You did not need to come all this way. Worksop Manor is only half the distance.”

“Oh, darling, don't you think I'd like to be at Work-sop this moment? Just the two of us? Don't you know how I long to be in your arms, to have you carry me to bed and make love to me all night?” Bess cupped her breasts and brushed her thumb across the ruby brooch that encircled her erect nipple. “I ache for you. Every night I lie abed, tossing, turning, burning for you, and when I finally fall asleep, my dreams are so shamefully
carnal, the blush never leaves my cheek.” She knew her words were convincing, because she spoke the truth.

“Bess, you must come to me! You were never meant to be a nun, and I'm living like a bloody monk!”

“It's difficult when we must be so careful. For me to stay away all night would prompt questions.”

“Then come to me through the day,” he demanded in desperation.

“At nightfall will you let me go?”

“If I say no, you won't come.”

She gazed at his mouth. “Then lie to me,” she begged.

Grace turned her small palfrey and cantered back to them. She looked at Bess with great dark eyes and said earnestly, “Father says you can't be my mother unless you marry him.”

“Grace, not one more word!” her father ordered.

“It's all right, Shrew. Children need to have their questions answered. Grace, your father has to observe a mourning period to show his respect for the mother of his children.”

“How long is a mourning period?”

“Traditionally, it is a year.”

“A year! I can't wait a year!” Grace cried.

“That's enough, Grace. Go back to your sisters. Lady St. Loe and I wish to speak privately.”

The child obeyed her father, albeit reluctantly.

A heavy silence hung between them. When Bess summoned the courage to glance at him, he was looking at her with speculative eyes. “Bess—”

“Don't you dare to ask me!” she warned.

“Don't you see it would be the answer to everything?”

Bess felt as if a great red rose bloomed in her heart, and her knees turned to water. Her plan was working, he
was on the verge of asking her, but of course it would be on his terms. How tempting he was! If only she could put her children second to her own desires. As the woman and the mother warred within her, her resolve hardened; Shrewsbury's terms would not be nearly good enough for Bess. With a great effort she schooled her features and looked him directly in the eyes. “You have stolen my heart, and I freely give you my body. Isn't that enough, Shrew? Must all I have achieved go to enriching the vast Talbot empire?”

“Splendor of God, Bess, how many times must I tell you I don't want your wealth? Don't you realize how much you would gain?”

“I wouldn't gain anything unless you died, and I cannot bear to think about that.” Suddenly, the reality of her words were brought home to her. A cold hand squeezed her heart and withered the rose that bloomed there. “Let's go on as we are. I vow I'll come to you this week at Worksop. Get rid of the servants.”