Forbidden Pleasures (20 page)

“Sounds very wicked,” Emily said slowly. “I don’t know if that’s my style, Sava. You are far more adventurous than I am.”

“Emily, we hold the power in the Channel. That’s what makes it so ideal for experimentation. If you say stop, it stops. Not like real life, where, when a man gets past the point of no return, you can’t say, ‘Whoa, Nellie,’ ” Savannah reminded Emily. “I know these last few months you’ve been a participant in the Channel and not an observer, but I also know you’ve probably played it safe. Try something new and maybe just a little dangerous. We’ll be together, darling. Aren’t you just the least bit curious to know what it would be like to have multiple partners at the same time? Or to spend the night entertaining several different cocks in your pussy? Come on, admit it. Every woman thinks about it, and given the right circumstances most of them would attempt it at least once. I’ve created a really fun group of gentlemen. There’s Bertie and Willie, Freddie and St. Albans. And several others. More than enough to go around. Don’t make a decision now. Wait until you get here. I’m really excited about this. Imagine being able to go into the Channel with your best friend.”

“It is tempting,” Emily considered thoughtfully.

“Devlin will be on a plane flying back to the States. Old Reg will be up in London, and you and I will be in our fantasy getting ourselves fucked to distraction. I know it’s not the correct period for you, but sex is sex. You might pick up something you could use in
The Defiant Duchess
.”

“I might,” Emily said.

Savannah laughed. “You are intrigued, aren’t you?”

“I admit it,” Emily said.

“Then we’ll have to do it, darling,” Savannah decided for them.

“I expect we’ll be doing it a whole lot that night,” Emily riposted back.

“Gracious, what a wicked thrust,” Savannah said drolly.

“There will be lots of wicked thrusts that night, won’t there, Sava?”

Savannah laughed. “God, I hope so! I haven’t had a good orgy in ages, and you haven’t had one at all. I do so want your first orgy to be fun, darling.”

“I’m going to ring off, Sava,” Emily said. “I’ll talk to you before I come. Have the inn e-mail me a confirmation.”

“Of course. I’ll tell old Reg you sent kisses,” Savannah replied. “You know he would fuck you if you let him, Emily. He’s always fancied you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t fuck him. Not my best friend’s husband,” Emily said, a bit shocked. “Give William and little Selena a kiss for me, will you?”

“Well, just thought I’d ask now that you’re well broken in and all. It’s his birthday in a few weeks, and you would really make a terrific gift. I mean, another consumer something is so predictable, after all.”

“Savannah! You are a dreadful woman,” Emily said, half laughing. “The one woman in this world you will never have to worry about where Reg is concerned is me. As your husband he is off-limits, as far as I am concerned. I’ve never even made one of my heroes look like him. Ewww! Creepy. Now, kisses for the children, remember?”

“It’s done,” Savannah replied. “Night, darling. See you next month.”

“Good night, Sava,” Emily said, and hung up. She was actually relieved that Lord Palmer would be up in London while she was staying with Savannah. The last time she had been at the manor he had come into her room, and then pretended he had made an error, being somewhat foxed, as he had so quaintly put it. But Emily had known her friend’s husband knew exactly where he had been going. He was a hound dawg, to use an Americanism, she thought. Savannah probably knew it too, but she did love Reg and their children, and she loved being Lady Palmer, Baroness Tilbury. And Reg, even if given the opportunity, would never leave his wife. In his way he loved her too.

Love. What a funny emotion,
Emily thought.
It’s physical, and it’s emotional. It’s delicious lust, and at the same time it’s emotions for which there are no words.
At least that was how she felt about Devlin. Rina said he loved her. But Devlin had never said it. Not even in the deepest throes of passion had he uttered the word
love.
The closest he had come was to say he adored her.
Adore
meant to worship. To be extremely fond of. So he was fond of her. It was something to build upon, wasn’t it?

She had entrapped him into seducing her back last spring so she might learn just what sex was all about. She hadn’t planned on falling in love with Michael Devlin; nor had she even considered that he would fall in love with her. But she had fallen in love with him, and more than anything in the whole world Emily Shanski wanted Michael Devlin to be in love with her. She wanted a happily-ever-after, complete with a small but fancy wedding, a honeymoon, and two or three children. If her heroines could have it, why couldn’t she? She had gotten him into bed. Now could she get him to the altar?

The telephone rang and, surprised, she picked it up.

“Emily, it’s Aaron. I’ve been trying to get you for hours,” he said dramatically.

“Aaron, welcome home! How was Italy? How was Capri?” she asked him.

“Tuscany was heaven. Capri overrated. Too many pretty boys. Dancing, dancing, dancing, and drinking twenty-four /seven. We were supposed to stay a week, but we left after two days. Kirk was right,” Aaron Fischer said. “But the Blue Grotto was divine! Now, how is the book coming, and are you getting along with Michael Devlin? You seemed to be content before we left.”

“We’re lovers,” Emily heard herself say.

There was a long pause, and then Aaron said, “Is that wise, sweetheart? I mean, this kind of a relationship between an author and editor has always been a forbidden kind of thing. What happens when it’s over? Will you be able to work with each other? And how will you explain it if you can’t?”

“Rina says he’s in love with me, and Aaron, I am in love with him. Don’t I get to be happy too?” Emily asked softly.

“Rina! I should have known! The busybody of the Western world! Don’t listen to my sister, Emily. She has no touch with reality.”

“The book is three-quarters done,” Emily told him. “It will be in on time. I’m going to England next month for a week. I’ll be down at Barrow seeing Sava.”

Aaron Fischer sighed audibly. “So you don’t like my concern,” he said. “Sue me. I promised Emily O when I took you on as a client that I would look after you like a daughter, if I had a daughter. I reiterated that promise just before she died. What kind of a father would I be if I weren’t concerned? Michael Devlin is charming, and he’s a wonderful, talented editor. But he has never shown any inclination to settle down. If you understand that and can live with it, then so be it.”

“It isn’t just the sex, Aaron,” she began. “We get on together. We like the same things, laugh at the same jokes, and he loves my cooking.”

“Everyone loves your cooking,” Aaron replied. “I can’t believe that Mick was so cavalier as to seduce you. I thought he was more professional.”

“I seduced him, Aaron. He did try to resist, but I was determined,” Emily said.

“Oy vay!” her agent replied. “Well, if nothing else, the misery you’re going to find when this madness is over will hopefully translate into even better writing.”

Emily laughed. “You really are a wretch, Aaron. But what if he decides it’s time to settle down, and he wants to marry me?”

“If Michael Devlin asks you to marry him, sweetheart, then I will walk you down the aisle at St. Anne’s and give you away,” Aaron Fischer said. “So maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” he reasoned. “Now, I just called to see that you were all right, and to tell you that tomorrow I will make an appointment with J. P. Woods for a little negotiation session. E-mail me what you’ve written so far so I can read it before we meet.”

“First thing in the morning, Aaron. And Aaron—no one in the business knows except you and Sava. I don’t want Devlin embarrassed by any gossip.”

Aaron chuckled wisely. “So having seduced him, you are now setting about to stalk him and get him to the altar,” he said. “Well, good hunting, sweetheart. I’ll call you in a few days and fill you in on what’s happening. Good night.”

“Night, Aaron. Say hi to Kirk for me.” Emily hung up the phone. Then, locking up the house, she went upstairs to bed. She wasn’t going to stalk Devlin. No. She was going to run him to the ground and hog-tie him. It was time they were both married.

“
W
hat will happen to me when you have finished the book?” Justin Trahern, the Duke of Malincourt, asked his creator. They were standing in his library.

“Why, Trahern, you’ll be immortalized forever,” Emily told him.

“You really ought to write another book about Malincourt,” he said. “Am I not the most fascinating and interesting hero you have ever created, dear girl?”

“Well, you are certainly the most arrogant.” Emily laughed.

“You are a magnificent duchess, madam,” he remarked.

“I have given you a duchess worthy of you, my lord,” Emily said. “Caro is the perfect woman for you. To please you I made her look like me, as I have made you look like Michael Devlin. But you are not Devlin, and I am not Caro.”

“You are Caro when you are in my arms,” he replied wickedly. “How else could you know the emotions she feels, dear girl?” Reaching out, he took her hand in his and drew her toward him. “Tell me where you go when you disappear from Malincourt, madam? I do not believe it is to a lover, for your own sense of honor is too great.” He wrapped strong arms about her and looked down into her small heart-shaped face.

“My lord, do not ask, I beg you, and allow me to do what I must,” the duchess said breathlessly. “I do not cuckold you, and with that you must be content.” The feel of his hard body against hers was intoxicating. She wanted to remain safe in his arms forever. If only she could, but it was not to be. She had yet to wreak her full revenge on those who had first dishonored her mother and then murdered her. And her aunts. Especially her beloved youngest aunt, Louisa.

The duchess pressed herself against her husband’s broad and comforting chest. He did not know of that summer three years ago when she and her mother had visited her grandparents in France. Her father, the Earl of Chetwyn, had not wanted them to go. The political situation in France was growing worse by the day. But her beautiful French mother, Claudine, had laughed at his fears.

“Most of the difficulty is in Paris,
mon chou
,” she had said. “Caroline and I go no farther than Normandy. There has been little trouble there. Besides, Papa is in agreement with the Marquess de Lafayette and the others. Great changes are needed if France is to survive, and Monsieur le Roi and Madame la Reine must be brought around. I always felt sorry for that poor little Austrian princess who had to marry fat Louis. But everyone knows that my father, the duke, and all his extended family support the revolution. We will be perfectly safe,
ma cœeur
.”

And so they had sailed in the Earl of Chetwyn’s yacht across the Channel to Normandy to spend a few months with the countess’s parents. And at first it had been just like every other summer Lady Caroline Thornton had spent in France at the charming little château of her maternal grandparents. Her mother’s two sisters had been there with her. The elder and her family lived in the Loire region. The younger was Caroline’s age but for a few weeks. They were seventeen, and they spent their days out of doors riding, or walking beneath the trees in the orchards. Caroline was to have a London season next year, and the lovely Louisa had been invited to share it, as society in France nowadays was precarious at best. The two girls giggled together as they imagined the gowns they would have, and the husbands they would soon find among the ton. The weather had been hot and sunny. It had been so perfect, and neither had even considered that it would be the last time they would be happy together.

And then one afternoon a ragged band of men had appeared at the the door of the château demanding entry. Seeing them, the duke had been hesitant at first, but then he permitted the men entry. He was a good son of the Revolution. But they had arrested her grandfather and charged him with treason against the Republic. An anonymous complaint against him had been put into the box set up by the Committee for Public Safety in their village. The duke was accused of hoarding, and of mistreatment of one Citizen Agramant. Searching the château, they claimed the supplies in the pantry were evidence of his hoarding.

The duke protested. What was in his pantry was an average supply of foodstuffs for his large family and his servants. As for Citizen Agramant, he had been in the duke’s employ as a stableman. He had been caught in the pantry stealing food, and there had been a bottle from the duke’s cellar beneath his coat as well. He had been whipped, ten lashes only, and dismissed from the duke’s employ. Had Citizen Agramant been hungry, the duke declared, had he come to his master, the duke would have given him food from his own stores. But he was not going hungry, and the duke had evidence that the stableman had stolen from him before, and was selling what he stole in the village at inflated prices.

But the band of men would not listen. The duke was taken away, and his household imprisoned within the château. Several days later they received word that the duke had been tried, found guilty of crimes against the republic, and taken to Caen to be executed. His body was never returned to them. Upon hearing the news the duchess had clutched at her chest and collapsed. She died several days later. As their servants were now forbidden from waiting upon them, the family of women had dug her grave in the family cemetery. A coffin had mysteriously appeared in her bedchamber. No one spoke of it or asked from where it had come. The old duchess was wrapped in a shroud and put into the coffin. And her two daughters and her grandchildren had gone to request that some of their manservants be allowed to carry the coffin to the grave.

The man who called himself the captain of the ragged band, one Captain Arnaud, had looked them over, licked his lips, and then said, “For every favor there is a price, my pretty aristos. What have you to offer?”