Authors: Adrienne Basso
Intimate Betrayal (12 page)
“You may inform Priscilla we will leave within the hour,” Morgan told Caroline in a dismissive tone. Taking the hint, she left. Tristan, however, sat down at the table and prepared himself a plate of food.
“Miss Carrington has agreed to accept your offer of employment, Tristan.”
“I’m very pleased, Miss Carrington. I’m sure you will be of invaluable help to us. I shall make a list of the various items that require immediate attention before we depart and also give you the address of our residence in London so you may contact me as needed.”
“Fine,” Alyssa replied. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must attend to the ladies.”
“I think I have made the correct decision concerning Miss Carrington,” Tristan said to Morgan as soon as they were alone. “She might prove to be a steadying influence on Caroline.”
Tristan continued eating heartily while Morgan sat engrossed in his own thoughts.
Enjoy her assistance while you can, little brother. As soon as I can make other arrangements, she will soon be out of your employment and established in her own house.
Enjoy her assistance while you can, little brother. As soon as I can make other arrangements, she will soon be out of your employment and established in her own house.
As they waited for the traveling coach to be brought around, Caroline spoke to Alyssa.
“Tristan has informed me that you have agreed to assist us in renovating the manor house. I am so pleased.”
“I must confess, Miss Grantham, I am looking forward to restoring the manor to its former grandeur,” Alyssa responded honestly.
“I am certain you will do a commendable job,” Lady Ogden interjected. “It is far too difficult a task for Caroline to undertake on her own. Your guidance should prove invaluable.”
“Thank you, Lady Ogden,” Alyssa said, surprised at her enthusiastic support.
“We must be off now, ladies,” Tristan announced. With strong arms he handed Caroline and Lady Ogden into the carriage. Turning to Alyssa he said, “I shall contact you the moment I have secured the services of a reputable architect. Good day, Lady Alyssa.” He gave her a stunning smile before jumping lithely into the coach.
“Enjoy the ride, Tris,” Morgan teased from his vantage point high atop his stallion. He knew full well his brother would have preferred riding a mount, instead of being cooped up inside the coach with his two female companions.
As soon as the coach pulled out of the drive, Morgan leaned down. “I will try to get away from Ramsgate as soon as I can, love,” he promised Alyssa. “We need to spend some time alone.”
Alyssa nodded in understanding, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion. As she watched everyone prepare for the journey, a feeling of loneliness had engulfed her. She hated standing alone on the front steps, left behind. Most of all she feared being separated from Morgan.
“Don’t forget about me, Morgan,” she whispered brokenly. The duke gave a farewell salute before thundering down the drive and out of sight. “Please don’t forget.”
When a young seamstress appeared unexpectedly at the front door several days later, Alyssa discovered Morgan had not forgotten her.
“The duke was very specific in his instructions,” the young woman explained to Alyssa. “I am to take all the appropriate measurements for my mistress, Mrs. White. She owns a dress shop in London, and a very good one, if I might be so bold as to say. We were commissioned to produce a complete wardrobe for you as soon as possible.”
Overcome by Morgan’s generosity, Alyssa stood patiently as the young woman completed her task: Within the week the trunks began arriving, filled with a stunning array of garments.
With trembling hands Alyssa unpacked the first trunk, uncertain of what she would find. She knew Morgan had excellent taste in his own clothing, but was unsure how his taste ran in feminine attire. Instinctively she knew she could not carry herself dressed in the frilly style of Caroline nor the somber decor of Lady Ogden.
As she lifted the first dress from the trunk, she knew at once her fears had been groundless. The gown was simple in style, allowing the richness of the green silk to carry the elegance of the dress lines. Alyssa stood in front of the mirror dressed in her new finery, amazed by the transformation. Her confidence soared and she finally allowed herself to believe she had the makings of a duchess. Properly gowned, she felt she could compete with anyone.
Each day brought the arrival of more clothes. Morning, walking, and carriage attire, as well as evening dresses, were carefully unpacked, pressed, and hung in the armoire. The fabrics were as varied as the clothes: silks and satins, cambric, crepes and heavier muslins, in addition to gossamer nets, gauzes, and Indian muslins. The colors were gorgeous: rose, amber, sea green, lilac, and sapphire blue, with white for formal wear.
There were also delicate underthings: silk stockings, garters, lacy underdrawers, as well as a corset with straps cinched in front to hold the breasts high. There were shoes in a variety of colors to match the various outfits. Alyssa’s favorite outfit was a beautiful forest green velvet riding habit, with a jaunty silk hat trimmed with a small feather, and sturdy black leather riding boots.
The sudden arrival of an extensive and costly wardrobe did not go unnoticed by the servants of Westgate Manor. Mrs. Stratton first questioned Mavis, who knew nothing about it, and then both women confronted Perkins. The older man was flabbergasted at being asked to gossip with the women, but he was also unable to shed any light on the situation. Finally Mavis asked Alyssa outright.
“Where in heaven’s name are all these lovely and very expensive clothes coming from?” Mavis asked when she caught Alyssa working alone in the estate room one afternoon.
Alyssa shifted uncomfortably under her former nurse’s gaze. She was reluctant to mention anything about her relationship with the duke before arrangements had been formalized. Deep within her heart Alyssa feared Morgan might just decide he no longer wanted to marry her, and Alyssa desperately wanted to spare herself the humiliation of explaining a broken engagement to the staff. Yet she realized how foolish she was being. Of course the servants would notice an entirely new wardrobe. Naturally they were curious.
“The clothes are a gift from the duke,” Alyssa explained lamely.
Mavis grunted in disapproval. “Since when do you accept such elaborate gifts from a man you hardly know?”
“Since he asked me to become his wife.”
“God’s blood!” Mavis sat down in shock. “When? When was all this decided? When are you going to be married?” The old woman’s eyes danced with delight, then suddenly narrowed. “And just when were you planning on telling me?”
“I am sorry, Mavis,” Alyssa apologized. “It happened so quickly I’ve hardly had time to get used to the notion myself. Imagine. Me, a duchess.” She shuddered at the thought.
“Why not you?” Mavis insisted. “You will make a lovely duchess.” Alyssa’s reluctance made the old nurse suspicious. “Do you want to marry this man?”
“I confess there have been many times I longed to lay aside the burdens of managing the estate and caring for our tenants,” Alyssa admitted honestly. “I believe the duke is a good man, and I think we shall deal well together. Yet I am reluctant to surrender my independence.”
“You lost your chance for an independent life the day you sold your little house to pay off Lord Carrington’s gambling debts,” Mavis observed. “Far better for you to be a wife than a governess or companion. In my opinion, the duke is lucky to get you.”
“ ’Tis I who am the lucky one, Mavis,” Alyssa answered. “It is almost inconceivable that a man like the duke would want someone like me.”
“Someone like you,” Mavis huffed. “You are not a mongrel dog, girl, so stop acting like one. Just because your daft father could never see the good in you is no reason to berate yourself.”
Alyssa silently considered Mavis’s words. “You are right, Mavis. I am being silly. I will announce my marriage plans to the entire staff as soon as the wedding date is set.”
Mavis left the room with a happy smile, and Alyssa returned to her papers. Yet she had a difficult time concentrating. She shifted restlessly in her chair, knowing she had managed to chase away some of the demons of doubt, but not all of them.
Alyssa had little time for her doubts over the next few days. She was kept busy hiring men to work on the renovations for the manor house. Tristan had located an architect, Mr. Henry Walsh, who after much tongue-clicking and raising eyebrows had pronounced the house a disaster but vowed he could save it. Alyssa did not much care for his flamboyant mannerisms, but when he began to produce blueprint drawings of each room, complete with color schemes and suggestions for furnishings, Alyssa was forced to acknowledge his talent. His attitude aside, Mr. Walsh proved to be a competent craftsman, and she shared both his desire for perfection and his visions of grandeur for Westgate Manor. Even though she would no longer have a claim to it, she wanted the manor to shine.
Another point in his favor was Mr. Walsh’s behavior toward her. If he was at all shocked at her unusual position in the household, he gave no sign of it and always treated her with respect. It quickly became obvious to Alyssa he possessed the power to make her job easier and exhibit her abilities to their best advantage. She hoped Tristan and Caroline would be pleased and Morgan impressed by her accomplishments.
The manor house soon hummed with the activity of bustling workmen in all corners of the house. Each day brought a new set of blueprints from Mr. Walsh and a new set of difficulties for Alyssa. One of her primary problems was finding a place to work in relative peace and quiet where she could concentrate for a few minutes without being interrupted.
Alyssa managed to sequester herself in the little-used estate room and was busily going over the latest estimates for labor costs when the door opened. Glancing up she saw Perkins hesitating in the doorway, scanning the room.
“I am over here, Perkins,” she called out, “hiding. You must promise not to tell anyone I am here or I shall never finish my work.”
“I naturally assume you are not including me in your instructions, madam,” a deep, masculine voice bellowed across the room.
Alyssa almost dropped her pen when she recognized the duke’s voice.
“Morgan,” she whispered breathlessly. Her heart began to thump loudly. She rose from her chair, gripping the desk firmly to keep from racing across the room.
“Thank you, Perkins.” Morgan dismissed the butler. “It appears you are taking your new job very seriously, Miss Carrington. I trust Mr. Walsh is not running you ragged?”
“Of course not,” Alyssa answered, trying to keep her tone light. “However, it is a bit difficult getting anything accomplished when I am constantly interrupted.”
“Are you enjoying your work?” Morgan pressed on, unable to stop himself. He had ridden six hours in a steady drizzle to see her and all he seemed capable of doing was making small talk.
“Yes, I enjoy my work,” Alyssa replied, her eyes riveted on his lips. I want him to kiss me, she realized, nervously licking her lips. It is the middle of the afternoon, and all I can think about is being held in his arms and kissed.
“What?” she questioned, missing his inquiry. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I did not hear your question.”
“I was just admiring your dress, Miss Carrington,” he said with a grin. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” Alyssa blushed.
“Have you missed me?” the duke asked in a silky voice.
“Oh, yes.” The words slipped out naturally.
“Then come here and give me a proper greeting,” he demanded in a sensual tone.
Alyssa’s feet carried her swiftly to his side.
“Hello,” he said simply, gathering her into his arms. He leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. “I’ve missed you.”
His last words were uttered so softly Alyssa was not sure she heard correctly, but before she had a chance to think, Morgan was kissing her again. Alyssa relaxed, enjoying the feel of his arms around her and the gentle pressure of his lips. It felt glorious to be back in his arms.
Morgan felt his body respond immediately to her nearness, and he reveled in it. I have missed her, he admitted. But the house was too crowded with strangers, the risk of being interrupted too great.
“Go change,” he whispered.
“What? What did you say?”
“Go change into your riding habit,” he commanded. “Immediately. I want you to take me on a tour of the grounds.”
“Now?” she asked, blinking her eyes in confusion. “You want to go for a ride now?”
“Meet me in the stables in twenty minutes,” Morgan demanded. Giving her a final hug, he left the room.
Chapter Seven
Filled with self-loathing, Alyssa stood in her room, ripping off her pale blue morning dress. She had acted like a witless fool with the duke, rushing to his side like a trained cocker spaniel when he demanded a kiss. And the worst part was that she enjoyed it! The kiss of course, not the dictatorial manner he employed.
Now Morgan had insisted she join him for a ride and she again obeyed without protest. It was as though in his presence she lost the capacity to think and reason for herself. It was a maddening and perplexing occurrence Alyssa strongly felt must be corrected.
Huffing in annoyance, she searched the bottom of the wardrobe for her black leather riding boots. Locating the left boot, she was about to call for a maid when Lucy appeared.
“May I be of assistance, Lady Alyssa?” the young maid asked politely.
“Oh, Lucy, thank goodness you are here.” Alyssa sighed in relief. “I can’t reach the buttons in the back of my blouse, nor can I find my other boot.”
“Sit down,” Lucy requested in her best lady’s-maid voice. “I will attend you.”
Deftly the younger girl closed the blouse, located the missing boot, and helped Alyssa finish dressing. Slightly calmer, Alyssa sat quietly as Lucy expertly brushed her hair, forming the copper tresses into a gentle upsweep. Lucy then carefully positioned the small velvet riding hat and secured it with several hairpins.
“All done,” Lucy proclaimed with satisfaction. “The duke will be pleased.”
Alyssa’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Does everyone know the duke is at the manor?”
“Probably,” Lucy admitted with a shrug. “Mrs. Stratton was out back talking to Ned when His Lordship arrived.”
“I see,” Alyssa replied with a wry smile. If Mrs. Stratton knew the duke was here, it was safe to assume everyone within the county would know by nightfall.
Entering the stables, slightly out of breath from rushing, Alyssa saw the duke standing outside the barn engaged in earnest conversation with Ned. The younger boy was holding tightly to the reins of a large gray gelding, and a pretty chestnut mare was tethered to the nearby post. Alyssa knew Tristan had been sending his horseflesh to the estate, but she had not yet seen these two particular horses.
“Lady Alyssa.” Ned acknowledged her approach. “I’ve saddled your mount.”
The stable boy led the gray gelding into the open yard, and Alyssa saw her sidesaddle was indeed on the horse. She walked up to the powerful beast and patted his nose affectionately.
“Aren’t you a fine boy,” she said in a gentle tone. “Where did you come from?”
“A small breeding farm in Kent,” the duke answered, pleased Alyssa admired the animal. “He is yours.”
“You bought him for me?” Alyssa’s eyes widened in surprise as conflicting emotions swirled through her. She was genuinely pleased with the gift, but self-conscious about appearing weak and submissive with gratitude.
“He is a magnificent horse,” she said finally, sounding defensive and touchy even to her own ears.
Her heart skipped a beat at the frosty look the duke sent her way, but he kept silent. Ignoring her rudeness, Morgan strode over to the chestnut mare, and vaulted unassisted onto the animal’s back.
Impressed, but not wishing to appear so, Alyssa gracefully mounted the gray gelding with Ned’s assistance.
“Please inform Mrs. Stratton the duke and I will be returning for luncheon later this afternoon,” Alyssa told Ned as they rode out of the stableyard.
They rode together for several minutes in silence. Finally Morgan spoke.
“You’re welcome.”
“What?”
“I said you’re welcome. For the horse. You were going to thank me for my gift, were you not?”
Embarrassed, Alyssa replied defensively, “I didn’t ask you to buy me a horse.” She knew she was behaving childishly, but seemed incapable of stopping herself.
“Don’t you like the horse?”
“Of course, I like the horse,” Alyssa snapped. “Anyone who has an ounce of sense would like the horse. He is a magnificent animal.”
“Then what precisely is the problem?”
“Problem? There is no problem. Who said there was a problem?”
“My dear Miss Carrington,” the duke responded, his eyes twinkling. “You are beginning to repeat yourself.”
“And you, my dear duke, are beginning to annoy me.” Tossing her head, Alyssa urged the gray on, deliberately distancing herself from Morgan.
He watched her race ahead of him, admiring the steady way she kept her seat on the horse. Her green velvet riding habit fit her snugly, accenting the generous curves of her body. Remembering his initial reason for wanting to ride with her, he spurred his horse after his prey.
Alyssa was forced to slow her pace, and he caught her where the rolling meadow met the woods. Morgan reached over and grasped her bridle, leading them both into the dense forest.
The ride had taken most of the anger out of Alyssa, and she chastised herself for acting so foolishly. She was behaving like a spoiled child and had probably succeeded in annoying him.
The duke brought the horses to a halt in a small clearing and dismounted. Alyssa scrambled down from her mount unassisted, somehow managing to land on her feet. She faced him squarely, uncertain of his mood.
“Would you care to explain what is wrong?” Morgan began in a patient voice.
“I. . . I. . .” Alyssa began lamely, totally at a loss for words. Absently crumbling a small leaf in her hands, she hastily blurted, “Thank you for my new horse. It was most unexpected, but exceedingly kind of you to buy him for me. I shall take great pleasure in riding him. I must also thank you for the extensive wardrobe you sent. The dresses are each magnificent, although perhaps a bit too numerous.”
Morgan fixed her with an assessing glance. “Will you please tell me what has upset you, Alyssa?” he asked in an even tone, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
“I was so very glad to see you this morning,” she said in a quiet voice, “until you started ordering me about. And. . . and. . . then you bought me that splendid horse.”
“You don’t like the horse?”
“No. I like the horse.” She groaned with frustration. “I am very seldom given gifts, Morgan. Or orders. I suppose it will take time for me to become accustomed to it.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Then again, I may be unable to adjust.”
Morgan’s lips curved up in an indulgent smile. “Why do I get the distinct impression you are no longer referring to your new horse?”
“Because you are an intelligent man?”
Morgan gave a short laugh. “You have shown an amazing amount of independent spirit and sensibility during our brief acquaintance, Alyssa. I confess these are not attributes I usually seek in a female companion, but they are qualities I definitely admire in you.”
Alyssa glanced at him with newfound respect. Her father had always mocked her abilities, and her neighbors had shunned her because of them. It was a refreshing change to meet someone who was not openly disapproving.
“I can only hope, Morgan, that your opinion does not drastically alter over time,” she said, deliberately keeping her tone resolute and assertive.
He laughed loudly at that, a deep rumbling sound that began in his broad chest. “You have made your point, Alyssa. There is no need to belabor it.”
Alyssa felt herself blush and she lowered her eyes. Morgan moved closer, gently brushing her cheek with his fingertips. When she lifted her head, he caught her face between his hands and bent down to capture her lips in a searing kiss.
Alyssa accepted his kiss, parting her mouth slightly so his tongue could slip inside. She felt the tremor of passion jolt her body as Morgan deepened the kiss, his hands reaching out seductively to cup her breasts.
Even through the thick material of her riding jacket, Alyssa could feel her nipples harden with passion, and she pressed her body intimately to his.
“Come, love,” he coaxed, leading her away from the trees to the soft grass of a small, secluded clearing. “I’ve a grave hunger for you.”
“Morgan,” she protested quietly, “we are in the middle of the woods.”
“Yes,” he remarked huskily, removing his riding coat and loosening his cravat with each step. “And we are all alone. Isn’t it marvelous?”
Alyssa could see Morgan’s rippling muscles clearly through his white linen shirt, and her hand reached out to caress his arm.
“You are so very beautiful,” she said in awe. The last time they were together in darkness, but today’s afternoon light hid none of the duke’s sculptured body.
He gave a small laugh. “Handsome, Alyssa,” he corrected. “Men like to be told they are handsome.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “You are beautiful, Morgan,” she insisted.
She placed one palm on his shoulder, and he stood perfectly still as she ran her fingertips experimentally across his solid chest. Laying her palm flat for a moment she whispered, “I can feel your heart pounding.”
“It beats for you, love,” Morgan responded automatically, surprised to discover his words were indeed the truth.
Continuing her explorations, Alyssa’s hand traveled across his flat stomach. Morgan sucked in his breath sharply, the anticipation almost unbearable. She did not disappoint him, and he gave a groan of pure pleasure as her hand slid below his waist and encircled his hard erection.
“It is so very large,” Alyssa said in a solemn voice.
“It’ll become even larger if you continue doing that, my love,” he said raggedly.
“It makes me feel very odd touching you this way,” she admitted. Tentatively, she caressed him, and felt him growing beneath her hand. “Tingly and breathless.”
Morgan groaned at her innocent admission, nearly losing control. He suppressed a wild urge to throw her to the ground and take her. His hand reached down, closing over hers, and he pulled her arm up around his neck. She raised her other arm and then clasped herself tightly around his neck, pressing her body wantonly against him.
A quiver of pure delight speared his entire body, and Morgan knew he had to do something quickly before he lost all control. Pulling them both to the ground, he insistently pressed Alyssa onto her back.
“Now it is my turn, love,” he told her. His hand reached down and lifted the skirt of her riding habit to her waist, exposing her lower body. He pulled at her underthings, searching feverishly for her bare flesh. Alyssa’s eyes widened in shock as his hand slipped inside her pantaloons, lightly caressing the moist, silky curls at the top of her thighs.
Morgan kissed her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth, his fingers moving in sensual rhythm across her most sensitive spot.
“You are already wet for me,” he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. Alyssa clutched helplessly at his shoulders. Her skin felt hot, and every nerve in her body was on edge.
“Morgan, you must stop,” she gasped.
“Hush, love,” he whispered. Placing his hands beneath her firm buttocks, Morgan lifted her to his lips and kissed her intimately.
Alyssa cried out with shock and abruptly sat up. “My God, Morgan!” she screeched in horror. “Whatever are you doing?”
Morgan knew he was rushing her, but couldn’t help himself. “Lie down, Alyssa,” he commanded in a deep voice. “I am not going to hurt you.”
Skeptical of his actions, Alyssa waited, not moving until he gently pressed her down on the grass. Alyssa felt the cool breeze on her flesh as Morgan opened her legs. She held her breath tightly as his head returned to the same sensitive spot. His tongue softly laved her and her hips jerked up in response. Alyssa arched her back, moving her body from side to side, quivering at the unfamiliar intimate stroking of his tongue.
Alyssa moaned. The pleasure was intense, almost painful, the feeling nearly unbearable. She whimpered as the stroking increased, mindlessly thrusting her hips forward to match the rhythm of his mouth. An unintelligible sound fell from her lips as the pressure peaked and Alyssa felt herself cross over the threshold of passion.
Breathing hard, Morgan continued to caress her gently with the palm of one hand while impatiently tugging at the stubborn fastenings of his breeches. Pulling himself free of his constricting clothes, Morgan gathered her in his arms and covered her with his heated body.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he told Alyssa in short, choppy breaths.
Hard and throbbing, Morgan’s manhood slipped easily inside her. He felt her body stretch and open to accept him.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded hoarsely. She obeyed his command, and they moved in unison, locked together in an all-consuming passion. Alyssa could feel him thickening inside her, growing large with each deep thrust. Threading her fingers through his hair, she forcefully pulled Morgan’s head to her lips and kissed him hungrily, just as his seed erupted inside of her. Panting hard, he collapsed atop her in total exhaustion, sated and fulfilled.
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