Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (13 page)

I grew feverish searching the crowd for some sign of my cousin. My patience was nearly at an end when I spied Tony Warburton standing off by himself holding a half-full tankard by its rim. Distracted as I was, I noticed that he looked a bit disturbed, like a man trying to remember something important.

“Hallo, Barrett,” he said, coming out of it as I approached. “Oliver told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m better. Fully recovered, in fact.” Almost word for word, I passed on the excuse Nora had provided for me. In the back of my mind, I thought that I really should feel some sort of remorse for what I was intending to do with the love of this man’s life, but there was not a single twinge against my conscience. Nora had made her choice and who was I to argue with a lady?

“Yes, well, I wish you a vigorous time, then. Which one is she? Oh, never mind.”

In spite of myself I couldn’t just run off. He looked damnably white around the eyes. “Are
you
all right?”

“Yes, I think so. Little dizzy, but that’ll be the drink, I expect.” He raised the tankard and drained off a good portion of it. “Go off and enjoy yourself with your English rose. We’ll see you in the morning? You know my street? Good, good, but not too early, mind you. Enjoy yourself.”

Walking away, I glanced back, troubled. He had returned to his preoccupied state. It was so different from the excitement that he’d shown earlier. As a jilted suitor, surely he should have been morose or angry, anything but this calm puzzlement. I wondered what in the world Nora had said to him.

Nora
.

Concerns for Warburton mercilessly cast aside, I asked directions and made my way to the west gate.

* * *

Oliver had wondered about Nora’s finances. If one could judge anything by the well-appointed coach and matched horses drawing it, then she had no worldly worries. The only reason that I had the mind to notice it was the dismal fact that Mrs. Poole was unexpectedly with us. I had forgotten about her and got a bad shock when I entered the coach to find her sitting next to Nora. Both of them were amused, but not in a derisive manner.

“How nice to see you again, Mr. Barrett,” she said. “I’m so glad that you and Nora have become friends.”

“Er . . . yes,” I responded idiotically. I dropped into the seat opposite, confusion and doubt invading my mind and cooling my initial ardor. Was Nora setting things up to play some kind of cruel trick on me? It did not seem likely. What might she have told her aunt about us? I could hardly assume that Mrs. Poole knew of our plans for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t the sort of thing one confided to one’s chaperone.

“How do you like England?” she asked with bland and benevolent interest.

Nora gave me a slight nod, a sign that I should answer. Perhaps her aunt was totally ignorant; that, or she knew all and had no objections, which struck me as odd.

“It’s different from home in ways that I had never imagined,” I said truthfully.

The coach lurched forward. The noise of the wheels made quiet talk impossible so Mrs. Poole found it necessary to raise her voice to continue her conversation with me. Nora contributed little herself, content to simply watch with her bright eyes. This, of course, made it difficult for me to hold up my end, as my thoughts were constantly wandering back to her. By the time the coach rocked to a final stop, my mind was in a particularly unsettled state.

A footman opened the door and assisted the ladies out. He was a young, handsome fellow with a cool demeanor, a trait he shared with the driver and the other footmen. All were in matched livery and carried themselves with quiet pride. For the first time since the practice was forced upon me, my offered vail was politely refused.

At a word from Nora, I followed her up the steps to the wide doors of her house. Within, all was clean and orderly and in careful good taste. I glimpsed a dozen paintings and sculptures decorating the front hall, booty from her tour of the continent, perhaps. I had no time to ask, for Mrs. Poole took my hand.

“The party has quite worn me out. You’ll please excuse me, Mr. Barrett, if I retire now?”

I did so with mild surprise, but the lady favored me with another sweet smile and went upstairs accompanied by a maid. All the footmen magically disappeared. Nora and I were happily alone.

“I’m sorry about the interruption,” she said. “I could hardly leave my aunt behind at the Bolyns’.”

“It’s all right, but I confess I am puzzled by her attitude. All of this puzzles me.”

“What, that a lady should bring a man home as I’ve done with you?”

“Well, yes.”

“And yet if a man brings home a lady, no one thinks much on it.”

She certainly had a point.

“Now, if a lady is so inclined, should she not be allowed the same freedom as a man?”

“I suppose. . .” I glanced toward the wide stairs where Mrs. Poole had taken herself.

Nora took my hand in two of hers. “Put your mind at rest, dear Jonathan. My aunt and I have a perfect understanding of one another on such matters, as do my servants. My only demand of you is your discretion. May I rely on it?”

I could not blurt my answer to that one out fast enough.

“Very well, then. Now . . . would you like to see my bedroom?”

Strangely, it was on the ground floor, but by the time we reached it I was out of breath, as though we’d run up several flights of stairs. The air seemed scarce once more. My chest was tight and my knees trembled with an intriguing mixture of fear, anticipation and lust. Nora was aware of this and enjoyed her effect on me, but in a sympathetic manner. She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before pushing open her door.

She drew me into a room decorated for delight. Candles were everywhere, burning away with a supreme lack of thrift to turn night into day. Each added its small warmth to what was being produced by the fireplace, comfortably dispelling any chill that might have lingered from our drive over.

The walls were papered halfway up with Oriental-looking flowers on a dark pink background. The ample bed was draped with embroidered tapestries to match, and the sheets—when I got close enough to touch them—were of ivory-colored silk and scented with rose. A special recess in one wall opposite the bed held a lovely and striking portrait of Nora, wearing antique clothes.

“It is very like you,” I said. “What was the purpose of the costume?”

“A whim of the artist. He was very talented, but eccentric.”

“Did he love you?”

“How did you guess?”

“Anyone seeing this work would know.”

Her lips curled in a smile that any man might die for, and I found my arms going around her, drawing her tightly to me. We resumed the kisses begun an age ago in the maze.

“Slowly, Jonathan, slowly,” she cautioned. “This is a special time for you. Don’t let it go by so fast that you’ll not remember what was done.”

I laughed at that impossibility. With her help and encouragement—for I won’t deny that I was nervous and shy—we began the lengthy and fascinating necessity of removing one another’s clothes. As things progressed, I discovered a hundred places other than her mouth where a kiss might be joyfully applied. As for my first sight of a naked woman, I admitted some surprise at the silky fluff between her legs. I’d been misled by the lines in the Song of Solomon where the bride’s own charms were compared to jewels. The reality Nora possessed was hardly a disappointment, though, and certainly worthy of careful exploration.

“Heavens,” she said in turn when the last of my things dropped away “I have chosen an eager stallion. Gently now, we’ll find a place to stable him in good time.”

This did not take long, fortunately, for I was almost to the point where I had to have release or go mad from the waiting. But Nora had grown warm enough under my hands and mouth to be in a similar state of near-bliss. She gave a soft, happy cry as I went in and held the small of my back so hard as to nearly break it as we traveled from near-bliss to its totality in a few swift moments.

When I finally caught my breath, when the sweat on my temples cooled and dried, when my heart stopped thundering between my ears, when my eyes rolled down to their proper place and I could see Nora beneath me, her head thrown back on the pillows, I knew that I was helplessly and hopelessly and forever in love with her.

Unable and unwilling to stop, I began kissing her again.

* * *

“You are so
very
beautiful,” she said, repeating her earlier judgment. She teased my hair with gentle fingers.

I pulled them down to my lips and nibbled at them. It seemed the thing to do.

“And vigorous, too. Midnight’s just gone by; are you not yet tired?”

“Never,” I mumbled. “I shall always be ready and waiting for you.”

Something like a shadow flowed over her face, but vanished before it could take hold. “Of course you will, but wouldn’t you like something to strengthen you first?”

Since she’d awakened the idea, I realized I’d worked up a tremendous appetite in the last few hours of activity. Disengaging from my grasp, she slid from the bed and crossed to a table holding several covered plates.

“Some cold meats and cheese?” she asked. “Some wine?”

Trailing after her, I wouldn’t have cared if it were stale water and weevil-infested ship’s biscuits. She saw to it that everything was within easy reach and watched while I ate.

“You must have something for yourself,” I said.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

As the food took the edge off the worst of my hunger and the wine made its way to my head, a dark thought began to curl unpleasantly through my mind.

“You’ve done this often before,” I pronounced.

“What do you mean?”

“The servants being so well rehearsed, your aunt’s cooperation, this all ready and waiting. . ..” I gestured at the table.

“Yes. That is true, Jonathan.”

“Who were they?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? You’re the one here now. I only rarely ask anyone to come home with me as I’ve done with you.”

“And who will be here the next time?”

“Please listen and understand, Jonathan.” Her mouth hardened slightly and her eyes snapped. “
Listen
.”

I felt myself instantly sinking into their darkness.

“Please listen to me. . . .”

And I did. And I
tried
to understand.

She loved me, but she loved others, too, and would continue to seek them out. That was her nature and she wasn’t going to change for my sake or for anyone else’s. However, she could not abide jealousy in any form, and told me that I should not give in to it. Above all, I should never be jealous of her other lovers; otherwise I would never see her again. I knew she meant it and, nearly choking, I swore to do as she asked. The impossibility of her request knotted my throat with tears. How could I
not
resent those unnamed interlopers?

But she talked to me, sweetly, soothingly.

Her voice filled my whole world.

Her voice became my world.

Then, like the sun breaking through a black cloud, it became entirely possible.

The best and easiest task I could ever take upon myself was to please her. And what she wanted of me was certainly within my abilities. I would love her and willingly share her and enjoy the privilege and honor of it with others. We would be like courtiers of old, gladly waiting upon the pleasure of our lady.

I listened. I now understood.

My head and heart were at peace.

I finished my meal, content to simply look at her and marvel at the perfection of her face and figure. Nora was not as quiescently minded, though, and came around the table to sit on my lap. Since neither of us had bothered to dress, I found this to be inspiring and began to express my feelings to her in a such a way as to leave no doubt over how I intended to conclude things.

I started to rise up to carry her back to bed, but she told me to remain in the chair. With a quick shift, she straddled my lap. I gulped, a little shocked at this new presentation of her boldness. I would never look at horseback riding in the same way again.

The chair creaked under our combined weight and exertions, but even if the damned thing had collapsed, we wouldn’t have noticed or paused. She wrapped her legs around my waist and its back and pressed close upon me. Her lips dipped down along the column of my neck, her teeth and tongue dragging against my now very sensitive skin. With a sigh, she fastened her mouth on the very pulse point of my throat and began sucking there.

At first it felt no different from the other kisses she’d given that I’d received with such joy, but it continued much longer and with no sign that she planned to stop. Not that I wanted her to; it was utterly wonderful. And the wonder of it only increased when she opened her mouth wide and her teeth dug deep and hard into my skin, finally breaking it. A full-blown cry of ecstasy burst from me then, along with the climax that overtook us both.

My loins were spent soon enough, but instead of the all-too-brief moment of glory I’d known before, the sensation there continued to increase. It spread to flow throughout whole of my body and went on and on and on, building upon itself like a great storm cloud rising to touch the moon. Each breath I took was a long gasp of gratification; each exhalation a pleading sigh for more.

My brain was afire; my body shuddered as though from fever as she held to my throat and drank the blood flowing from the wound she’d made. The triumphant couplings we’d shared before were
nothing
compared to this. I moaned and writhed and could have wept from the ecstasy that blazed like lightning over and throughout my flesh. One of my hands snaked up, the fingers pressing upon the back of her head, a silent invitation to dig deeper, to take more, to take as much as she liked, to empty me completely

But she had more control of herself than I. An hour might have passed for us locked together like this or a week. I was too overwhelmed to know or care until she began a gradual and slow drawing away from me; something I sensed at once and tried to hinder. She licked and kissed me in a most tender way, but remained firm, and eventually and most reluctantly I came back to myself again.