Her Quicksilver Lover: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 6 (24 page)

A moment’s silence indicated that everyone caught that inference. Ellesmere nodded. “I have caused the king to be in residence at St. James. He has an urgent meeting with his cabinet. And yes, I used compulsion, though I consider it was in a good cause. Anyone bringing danger to the Pantheon Club also threatens the king. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is treason. The cabinet will have a wonderful time discussing the potential and possibility of increasing the army, and I shall join them later. I will tell them where I’m staying, and answer the rumours with fact. This is a very convenient, highly respectable club, and if they believe it a centre for sedition, then they must include me in that number. I have seen nothing of the kind.”

“Ha, very good!” Lord Stretton, a clever, if wild man, commented.

Bacchus.

Well now, that certainly explained the wildness. If the devil himself strolled through the doors at the moment, Joanna would not have been surprised.

“I shall attend the myriad balls that we’ve been invited to. The invitations are currently cluttering my mantelpiece,” Lord Stretton said.

“Our mantelpiece,” murmured the lovely woman at his side.

Stretton put his hand on her arm. “Indeed you have the right of it, my dear.”

“Together we can cover the whole of London in a day or two,” Ellesmere said. “This club will not die.”

A spike of emotion deep in her mind made Joanna pay attention to her husband. Were his eyes gleaming more than usual? It appeared so because as she watched, a lone tear slid out of the corner of his eye and tracked down the side of his face.

Ellesmere picked up his glass and toasted Amidei. “From the moment he rescued me from the hell I was living in, I swore I would pay Mercury back. He has not stinted in his efforts to help us, and we will not fail him now.”

The others murmured their approval. All the people Amidei had helped, all his efforts for the gods were garnering its rewards now. They’d come from the length and breadth of the country to give him their support.

Amidei took a deep breath, his gold embroidered waistcoat glittering as his chest rose and fell. “Then I want Argus,” he said firmly. “For what he has done to my wife, and for what he plans to go on to do.”

Ellesmere nodded, and sat. His wife leaned closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Faith, Lady Ellesmere, had a tranquil loveliness and a sense of steadfastness that shone from her sweet face.

Joanna listened to them talk, of sending a miasma of madness over the city, to conjuring up a thunderstorm that would turn the skies black, to forging a net so strong nobody could escape. To her, the plans sounded so fantastical as to be impossible, except these people were capable of accomplishing it. But that would not work. The schemes grew ever more elaborate, ever more, well, godlike until she could bear it no more.

Eventually, she yelled, “Stop!”

And everybody fell silent and looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

Joanna took her courage in both hands. In fact, she gripped it so tight she was in danger of drawing blood from her palms, so tightly did she clench her fists. “Do you want the country to know they’re harbouring a set of immortals? I thought that was what, above all things, you wanted to avoid?” A few people nodded, but Ellesmere frowned, flashing anger at her.

She ignored him, or pretended to. “Why not keep matters simple? Why not draw him out?”

“And how do we do that?” Stretton drawled, the picture of bored English aristocracy.

“By using me,” she said simply.

Amidei’s voice rang out over the hushed room. “No!”

If that meant they were about to have their first argument, then so be it, although she would have wished to conduct it in less exalted company. “You can dress this up as the battle between the Olympians and the Titans, and I have no doubt that Patrick will do the same thing. It adds a higher message to what he wants, makes his actions heroic. But it’s not true. Patrick Gough wants me. He wants me very much.”

Amidei stared up at her, his eyes dilated in shock. He swallowed. “You’re right. You are his prize. But he wants the club, too, and everybody in it. It is not just you, sweetheart. He has another motive.”

She kept her attention on him, but spoke to everybody. “He was willing to come out of hiding for me. He’ll do it again, if I ask him to.”

“And how will you do that?” Lord Wickhampton’s sister, Lady Damaris, glared at Joanna. “You are only just turned immortal. You have no powers worth speaking of, and Argus is adept at concealing himself. Tell us how you will get in touch with him.”

Didn’t these gods know anything about everyday life? Lifting her head, she took in the picture of elegant power that lay before her eyes. “I’ll write him a letter. I’ll leave it at the coffeehouse at the end of the street we used to live on, telling him I’ll meet him. I’ll write several and leave them at strategic places, places where the
Argus
sells well. I’ll tell him I’m afraid, that he was right, that I want to run away with him. I’ll say Amidei married me by force, and beg for his help. He’ll risk it, if he thinks he can have me. Through me, he’ll get the club.”

While they’d been talking and planning, drawing up the most outrageous schemes, Joanna had been thinking hard. Once she’d stripped all the elaborations, all the complex myths and stories away from the problem, what was left sparked an idea, and that had led to a plan.

“He would love to see the inside of the club, would he not? I’ll tell him that I can get away by the private side door, if he waits for me.”

“You will do no such thing.” Amidei spoke in a low growl, indicative of his simmering anger.

“You said he has a hundred eyes, that he can see into every place he has been, whether he is there or not. He can’t see here, because he has never set foot inside the club. So I’ll let him see inside the club. Only the side stairs, and our apartments, since we’re changing them anyway. That will keep the action inside the club, instead of in public. You’ve caused enough scandal, between you, and we’re trying to quell it now. Doesn’t it make sense to do that? But he needs to see me, needs to know he is safe before he sets foot in the club. He’s no fool—he won’t come without strong enticement.”

Heedless of anyone else, in front of the greatest collection of powerful people possible, Amidei ignored them all and addressed her. He turned to her, and clasped her hands in his. “Joanna, I love you more than life. Do you think I would allow you to put yourself in this kind of danger?”

“If that’s the kind of husband you intend to be, ordering me around without discussion, then I will leave now.” Joanna met his gaze, her hands and voice steady, because she meant it. She would not bow down under her husband’s will, however powerful that happened to be. “From what I understand, you want to keep mortals’ freedom. You want to preserve free will and their right to decide for themselves what they want to do with their lives and their world. Well, I want the same. I
demand
the same. With Argus free, he will not stop coming after you. Wherever we go, whatever we do, he will follow us. I will never be able to walk in the park or go shopping with friends without looking over my shoulder all the time. He wants me, Amidei. Either we use that or we spend the rest of our lives running. You will run because of me, and I won’t have that. I won’t.”

A sharp sound diverted her attention. Lord Stretton was clapping. “Bravo!”

Gradually, the others joined in, and the faint patter of applause made her swallow. Her pride in her husband, to engender such support despite not asking for it, made her burst with joy. A sense of belonging swept over her, difficult to recognise at first, because she’d never belonged anywhere before, except with her papa.

Joanna had inadvertently joined the most exclusive and the most welcoming club in the world.

Chapter Sixteen

Amidei did not stop trying to persuade Joanna against her course until she told him firmly that if he did not stop, he’d be spending his wedding night alone. That had the effect she wanted, but later, getting ready for bed, she went cold when she thought he might actually take her up on her challenge.

He’d been so impassioned that at one point she’d considered allowing someone else to take her place, until Lady Damaris had pointed out that Argus would know his quarry so well any attempt to substitute her would lead to disaster.

Now Amidei entered the room they’d come to share, the one in the suite that had originally been hers. He wore a magnificent robe, blue silk with tiny Chinese people embroidered all over it, busily going about their lives. Transfixed, Joanna’s gaze went immediately to the robe, but he laughed and caught her hands, bringing her attention up to his face.

His eyes burned hot silver. Her mouth dropped open, but without hesitation, he dragged her close and sealed their lips together. He kissed her, licking deep, banding her close to his body, his erection burning through their clothing.

With a groan, he finished the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “That was exquisite torture. You were so beautiful, so damned
perfect
, and I had to leave you alone, be polite to our guests, and wait all this time to get you to myself. You’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “I will pray nightly that I am not.” The reminder came too close to what they were discussing earlier, and she wanted none of that now. “I felt the same. For two pins I’d have jumped on you at the dining table.”

A lascivious smile curled his mouth. “I would have loved it if you had.”

He kissed her again. “Enough. Come to bed, my love, before I die from wanting you.”

“I’d like to make you suffer, sometime,” she said thoughtfully. “Is that wrong of me?”

“It is tonight. Another time, who knows?”

His joyful smile had no shadows. Neither did hers. “Every time I heard someone say ‘your wife’ to you, I wanted to turn around to see where she was.”

He touched her cheek. “She’s here, and I’m not looking anywhere else. We’ll have plenty of time to get used to respectability.” He turned his attention to her robe, unfastening the hooks that held it together.

She gave a short laugh. “I thought our marriage was for respectability. When are we telling society that we married?”

“A month ago.” He glanced up at her face and then resumed his task. “It’s unfortunate, but there you are. If anyone recognises you as the little maid, we will tell them it was a bet between husband and wife. A private bet, where I said you could not serve in the kitchens, and you said you could.”

Since only immortals were present at their wedding, excepting the vicar, they could get away with that. Just about. Marriages, especially those of the aristocracy, generally took place privately, so nobody would know for sure, except those present. “They were taking a risk today, weren’t they?”

He sucked in a breath. She was naked beneath her robe. A low growl purred against her neck as he drew her close and she smiled against his chest as she slid her arms around his waist, glorying in her freedom to do so. “My friends? Yes, they were. The last time we met like that did not turn out so well.”

The explosion that killed his old friends, the predecessors of the gods here today. “They were brave.”

“They were showing their loyalty and giving their thanks. I was never so near to tears as when I walked into that room and saw them all. They’re all staying at the club, even those who have London houses. Filling the rooms.”

“Will it work?”

He kissed her shoulder, then her neck, nibbling at the spot beneath her ear that drove her wild. “I don’t know. At the moment, I don’t care. Everything I want is here in my arms.”

When he nuzzled her earlobe and kissed across her cheek to her mouth, Joanna gave up any effort at discussion. Eagerly, she kissed him back, sinking into the luscious sensation of having her man, her husband, here with her, making love to her.

Bending, he lifted her into his arms. The robe fell away from her body, leaving her open to his avid gaze. She worked at the elaborate froggings at the top of his robe, needing him as naked as she was.

He laid her gently down on the already turned-down bed and stood back to strip the robe from his body. He gazed at her, smiling, his gaze soft. The servants had lit the candles in the sconces set in the bed head, and the ones on the wall, so no dim shadows impeded their view of the other. The scent of burning wax filled the air, together with the heady perfume of the flowers set about the room.

She sat up, pushing her robe off the bed as if it was as worthless as her old one, which had perished along with the house. Stretching out on the silken sheets, she enjoyed the heat in his gaze and the way his erection responded to the sight of her. Small drops of clear liquid appeared at the tip, and finally, she could do what she had longed to. Kneeling up, she kissed it.

His long, heartfelt groan washed through her. She licked, tasting him as thoroughly as she’d wanted, dreamed of. His hands touched her head, then her shoulders, his grasp tentative. “Oh gods, you’ll be the death of me.”

Not until I’ve had my fill of you.
Talking to him directly through the mind had finally become as natural as speaking, although she doubted she would ever have that ease of communication with anyone else. She sucked and tasted him, spicily masculine, with a heady undertone of pure musk.

He caught his breath on a groan, the catch of sound driving her to taste him more fully, worshipping that hard rod of maleness.

But he drew back, and she looked up at him. “No more,” he said softly. “I cannot bear any more. Another time, my love. Lie back now, and let me love you the same way.”

Wetness marked the top of her thighs when she lay back. He climbed on to the bed, prowling over her on all fours, his erection darker than the rest of his body, flushed, wet and ready for her.

He dipped his head to taste her and she opened her legs, eager for the treat. He sucked the knot of flesh at the top, which he’d told her was called the clitoris, and swept the flat of his tongue over her, as if claiming her in a primitive ritual. She was a sacrifice to the god, a princess sent by her father to assuage the powerful being who demanded her. Her imagination roamed lazily over the old stories from the books she’d read.

Secretly in love with a young groom from her father’s stables, the princess had gone reluctantly to the sacrifice, persuading herself that if she could not have her lover, then she would rather die. Only to find, when she reached the god’s lair, that he was the groom all along, who had donned a disguise and fallen in love with her from afar. Only first, he would have to take her in the view of the other sacrificial victims, who all wanted him. Before he’d torn her clothes from her body he’d whispered to her that she would be the only one from this day forward.

But they had to watch. It was the law.

Joanna’s vivid imagination added pictures to go with the lascivious and thorough tasting from Amidei. Reaching down, she pulled the ribbon from his hair, wanting more of the god than the man. Silken skeins fell over her hands, and she threaded her fingers through them and tugged, as he plunged his tongue deep and she cried out, feeling her peak seize her body.

Rising up, he lay over her. Supporting his body with one hand, he used the other to guide himself to her, and thrust deep inside.

He did not rest, did not wait for her, but powered into her, their bodies coming together in a series of wet slaps, the sound blatant and shockingly arousing. Thrills coursed through her, and she lifted her legs, gripping his hips between her thighs as they worked in harmony. She clutched his buttocks, the muscles flexing as he thrust.

Neither of them closed their eyes. She let him see everything, opening her mind to him with a generosity that he reciprocated. Tumbling in, she felt rather than saw his experiences, his emotions and his love for her, swirling around her in a turbulent whirlwind of sensation.

The shocks of sensation grew ever more consuming, taking her, but she trusted him to share the experience, to abandon them to each other.

Crying out, she twisted against him, but he held her firmly, showing her no mercy. Amidei hammered into her as if he was racing after his own peak. Her head went back against the pillow and she shivered in a series of convulsions she could not stop, nor would have wanted to.

She cried his name, watched him as he joined her, his eyes dilated, his mouth open. The muscles in his throat strained and his shoulders tensed as he pulsed within her, flooding her with his seed.

The moment went on forever. Amidei hung his head, his hair trailing over her chest, caressing it with gentle, silken sensations. His chest heaved and when he rolled to one side, one arm lashed around her so she came with him, his heart beat against hers, strong and fast.

Their breath slowed, and their hearts regained their normal rhythms, beating in time with each other. He kissed her, long and lovingly, and she pressed close, refusing to allow his shaft to leave her body.

“That,” he said against her lips, “was making love.”

As if she didn’t know.

* * * * *

The next day Amidei let Joanna out of bed long enough to write the letters to Patrick, but then he reclaimed her, saying that if this was all he would get for a honeymoon, they’d better make the most of it.

The guests at the club dispersed to their London houses, leaving in the most public ways they could devise, with carriages and outriders. To all intents, the building was deserted, except for the domestics, Joanna, her father, and her husband. Ripe for the taking. Amidei gave the mortal servants leave, and informed the immortal ones what was happening. All was prepared.

Joanna visited her father, who seemed much better. When he patted her hand, she burst into tears, because he only had one hand to do it with. “My dear, I count myself fortunate to see you happy. Do not concern yourself with me.”

She told him what they had planned. “I am but the decoy, Papa. I will come to you safely when I’ve done my part.”

His face tightened into stern lines. “I cannot say I like that part. Do you mean that the man who did his best to destroy us is coming here?”

She nodded. “He would not come if I had not asked him.”

“Still, I cannot like it.”

He was sitting up today, dressed and far more lively than the day before. What was left of his left arm was bound close to his body. He was far more cheerful than Joanna would have been, in the circumstances.

* * * * *

The immortals returned privately under the cover of night, dressed plainly, entering through the servants’ quarters and side doors. Joanna did not hear from Patrick, but they had to assume he would turn up. Otherwise she would go after him. Immortals this powerful could conceal their presence, shield it so they could not be read. Now, would Argus risk entering the club for the twin enticements of gaining Joanna and a look inside the place he had not managed to enter before?

The day after that, they made their move.

Joanna barely recognised Amidei when he returned to their room after dressing in his chambers. He wore a perfectly good coat and breeches of a dull red colour, and his waistcoat was plain. His hair was tucked away, and he wore a wig over it. The stiff white hairpiece did not become him half as well as his natural hair, and he smiled when she told him so.

“My love, I don’t wish to draw attention to myself, but neither do I wish people to say I was in disguise. I do not want to appear in any way underhand when I come to you. It will be as if I cannot keep away from you. Which is very much the case.” Crossing the room to where she sat at her dressing table, he lifted her hand and kissed it.

Joanna’s reflection blushed, and it was not a fault in the excellent mirror. Behind her, Betty grinned as she pinned Joanna’s excuse for a cap into place. “There, ma’am, now everyone will know it’s a grand lady you are. Do you wish me to change anything?”

Joanna shook her head. She looked astonishingly like a countess dressed for a day at home, and now that Betty had finished, Joanna had the strange feeling the woman in the mirror was someone else. But when she looked down, she saw the same gown of apple green silk, delicately embroidered with bees and spring flowers, and the matching petticoat. The apron she wore was, like her cap, a fashionable travesty of the practical garments they claimed to emulate. Costly lace edged the lawn rectangle, the whole garment so fine that the clothes beneath were easily visible. When she moved, she rustled, something she had never done before, but she loved the soft whisper of silk and the fresh scent of clothes dried in the countryside. Like the other houses of the rich, the laundry was sent out to establishments outside the city, where they could be cleaned in the sweeter air of the country.

The delicate scent of oranges hung about her, from the perfume Betty had dabbed on to Joanna’s skin. But she wanted to be seen.

From his pocket, Amidei produced a gleaming string of pearls, so big Joanna did not at first believe they were real. “This will finish the outfit off nicely,” he murmured, as he fastened the clasp. Big-eyed, Joanna touched the cool spheres which were rapidly gaining the warmth of her body. Amidei smiled in satisfaction. “You must wear them often. Pearls benefit from being worn.”

“So I’ve heard. They’re lovely. Thank you.” Her breasts rose and fell under their covering of fine linen. Even her fichu enticed, being delicate enough for the warm tone of her skin to be seen beneath. She did indeed look pretty today, although she would not go so far as to say beautiful. However, she had given up contradicting Amidei. He seemed determined to tell her so, and make her believe it. Perhaps in time she would.

Getting to her feet, she caught herself leaning too far forward, a result of the heels on her new shoes and the unaccustomed sway of a larger hoop than she was used to. In her old life she would do without a hoop at all, using padding beneath her gown to acquire the correct shape, but the hoops, although considered small by most ladies of fashion, held the fabric away from her body and felt much less cumbersome.