Lost Love Found (32 page)

March had brought spring to the region, and each day was lovely with clear blue sides and bright sun. Just before they entered the Dardanelles, they stopped at a small island to replenish their supply of fresh water.

“Who lives on the island?” Valentina asked Murrough.

“The island is deserted, although it is fertile,” he replied. “The Turks captured the Cyclades almost forty years ago. There is a temple, I am told, or what is left of an ancient temple, on the island’s crest. The people believe that the island was dedicated to Aphrodite, the goddess of love. After her priesthood died away, the island remained uninhabited, and a legend grew that the goddess actually lived there. The island was therfore forbidden as a habitation for mere mortals. Aphrodite, however, is hospitable to travelers. She offers us her sweet water, provided that we respect her. It is the custom to leave some small offering on her altar.”

“And will you?”

“Aye, Val, I will. We sailors are a superstitious lot.” Murrough smiled.

“May we go ashore?” she said.

“Of course! Tomorrow we enter the Dardanelles, and with luck two days after that we will be in Istanbul. If you would like, we can spend the day here. It will allow the men to let off a little excess energy. We will all have to be on our best behavior after today, for what has thus far been a pleasant and amusing journey, tomorrow becomes serious business, Valentina, for the crew as well as for us. The Ottoman and Tatar people are fierce, as volatile as a field afire, and as unpredictable. There will be no margin for mistakes.”

There were goats on the island, and the crew slaughtered several to roast. Lord Burke fell and badly twisted his ankle while trying to capture one of the beasts. He was returned, under protest, to
Archangel
so that the ship’s physician could be certain the ankle wasn’t broken.

“Aphrodite has answered my prayers,” murmured Lord Ashburne as the dory containing Lord Burke pulled away from the island. “I will have to make her a most generous offering, divinity. Will you come with me?”

“Oh, Tom! Shame! You are wicked to say such a thing. Poor Padraic!” Valentina cried sympathetically.

The earl thought how lovely she looked in her simple white silk shirt and dark green linen skirt. The shirt, with bared shoulders, affected a peasant look. Valentina’s long dark hair was drawn back off her face held by a single white silk ribbon embroidered with tiny seed pearls.

“But Lord Burke’s misfortune is my good fortune, divinity. I have not had a single opportunity to be alone with you in weeks, and damn it, Val, I am not sorry that my rival has been removed from the picture. I would be a hypocrite to say so. Padraic is not seriously injured, so do not waste time in sympathy for him that might be spent in sweet contemplation of my adoration of you.” He slipped an arm about her waist and drew her close. “Walk with me, Val. Let us find flowers to gather that we shall lay together upon the altar of Aphrodite, that magnificent bitch goddess whose mere whim can change a mortal’s life for the better. Or the worse.”

“You have a poet’s soul, Tom,” she said, looking up at him and smiling.

“ ’Tis only the babble of a man in love, Val,” he answered, his gray eyes scanning her face for some sign of encouragement. He was pleased to note that his words brought a faint flush to her cheeks.

They walked together up a narrow path from the beach to the top of the island. There they found spread out before them a field abloom with scarlet, purple, and white poppies swaying gently in the soft breeze. Directly in the middle of the field was a white marble building. It was not a ruin at all. It was a square, porticoed structure open on all four sides to allow the sunlight into its sanctuary.

Directly in the center of the temple stood an enormous statue of the naked goddess herself rising from the sea, as legend had depicted her birth. The statue, in excellent condition, was of polished white marble with just the faintest hint of pink. It was surely as beautiful as it had been the day it was placed there. Within the porticoed shelter it was safe from the ravages of sun and rain. The statue was set on a raised dais of white marble shot through with veins of dark red, and the goddess stood on a huge scalloped shell of the same marble that served as her altar. Upon it were the remnants of some previous visitors’ offerings.

Valentina spread the armful of flowers she had gathered on the altar. Then she turned to the earl with a smile. “Do you think that will satisfy the goddess, my lord?”

“Nay,” he answered softly, “but perhaps this will.” Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her, and as his lips moved tenderly over hers, Valentina sighed. Emboldened, he placed little kisses all over her face, on her flushed pink cheeks, her quivering eyelids, the corners of her mouth, the tip of her nose. “Ah, divinity,” he said, his hands cupping her face, “you ravish me with your sweetness. I adore you, Valentina. Can you not love me just a little?”

She opened her eyes to look into his, and for the briefest second, his vulnerability was evident. “Tom,” she whispered, for to speak loudly in this place seemed wrong somehow. “Oh, Tom, I do not know how I feel! Do not press me, I beg you, for I can make no decisions now.”

“Let me love you a little, divinity,” he pleaded. “Let me love you here, in this perfect place that is dedicated to love!” He slipped to his knees, drawing her down with him. He kissed her once again, but this time his kisses were more demanding.

She murmured a faint protest as he drew her silk blouse down to bare her breasts to the warm air. His kisses scorched across her perfumed skin, his mouth finally fastening on a pert pink nipple. She sighed, knowing she ought to stop him, but unable, somehow, to gather the energy she needed to push him away.

He suckled her nipple for several minutes before moving on to the other. His arm slipped beneath her buttocks to brace her as he drew her down to the temple floor. Gently, he pushed her skirts up, baring her long legs in their black leather boots, plain white silk stockings, and green ribbon garters. His big hand moved softly over the flesh of her thigh, stroking her with a circular motion while his mouth continued suckling at her nipple.

She should stop him! She knew she must stop him, yet his mouth on her breast, the tender fingers stroking her thigh were all so pleasurable that she couldn’t gather her thoughts together. “Tom!” she finally managed.

He lifted passion-glazed eyes from her wet, aching nipple and gazed down into her face. “I love you,” he groaned. “Do not forbid me, divinity!”

Her eyes filled with sudden tears. “But you must cease, she said, “for I have not the strength to fight you.”

“Tell me that you do not feel the passion, Val, and I will stop.
Tell me!
” he demanded cruelly of her.

“I cannot lie to you,” she sobbed. “I
do
feel the passion, but passion is not necessarily love. I must love a man for reasons other than passion before I can give myself totally. Oh, Tom! You must understand that!”

A spasm crossed his handsome face and he said, “Let me at least give you what pleasure I can without completing the act, for that will give me some pleasure also.”

She wanted to say yes. Dear God, how she wanted to say yes! Instead she whispered shakily, “Tom, please!”

“I am not a lad, unable to control his desire, Val. I can give you the pleasure you need now to ease your own suffering!” His supple fingers slipped between her nether lips to explore for just a second and then he said, triumphant, “You cannot deny your longings, divinity, for you are already honeyed.” Fumbling with his breeches, he unbuttoned the slit and slipped his manhood out. Catching one of her hands, he placed it on the throbbing organ.

Valentina gasped and tried to draw away. “Tom, you must not!”

“Just caress him, divinity,” the earl pleaded. “That is all I will ask of you, I swear it! The poor fellow has been in desperate need of soothing these last months. Surely you would not be so unkind, now that he has felt your tender touch.”

“Oh, Tom, you are very bad, and I am afraid,” she said.

“I swear I will not take you, Valentina, even though I long to,” he promised her. “You are right in that passion for passion’s sake is not a good thing. I will respect your view, for I agree with it. But let us at least have the joy of easing each other’s longings.”

Her conscience was not entirely placated, but she thought that she would have had to be a saint in order to refuse him now, for even if she would not admit it to him, she was willing to admit to herself that her own desires were high. Her slim fingers swept up and down the smooth column of hot, hard flesh. He groaned softly when, with surprising audacity, she cupped and fondled the sensitive pouch beneath his manhood. “Does this really give you pleasure?” she said.

“Aye,” he gasped, “it does, but now I want you to stop so that I can reciprocate.”

“Nay, ’tis all right,” she protested shyly, but he would not listen to her obviously faint-hearted protests which had only been brought on by a new attack of conscience.

Firmly he pressed her back upon the marble floor, placing little kisses across her face before moving down to her swollen breasts. A thrill ran through him when she held him against her bosom, for it was her first voluntary act of passion. God’s foot, how he loved those marvelous globes of hers, exuding their faint aura of lily of the valley. She truly had the most perfect breasts he had ever seen, and he would have been content to spend hours adoring them.

Passion gripped Valentina now, for the games he wanted to play with her were potent, indeed. Whimpering, she boldly caught his hand and drew it down to her pretty pink Venus mont.

Tom Ashburne smiled softly. What a marvelous bed partner she was going to be when he won her for his wife! All that fire beneath that cool surface … and it would eventually be his!

Twisting himself away from her breasts, he slipped down between her legs. He had sworn not to couple with her, but he would show her a sweet trick he would wager Lord Barrows had never shown her.

She knew! The moment his head moved between her thighs, she knew! He intended touching her in the most shockingly intimate way, and she realized intuitively that, if he did, she would lose control of herself completely. But before she could squirm away or speak to stop him, his fingers spread her and his tongue touched her in a warm, dizzying way that made her gasp aloud. Valentina arched her back in an effort to be closer to the mouth that was bringing her such unbelievable pleasure. This was bliss beyond bearing! This was … wonderful! As her crisis neared, she cried out with rapture, then wept sweet tears. He gently kissed them away as her elation faded.

Afterward, he held her in his arms as the goddess looked down on them with a benign, approving gaze. He stroked her hair and rocked her until her tears had stopped and she sighed deeply. “Better now?” he inquired softly.

“Worse, I think,” she said. “This sweet soothing of yours is for little girls with no knowledge of what is to come. I yearn now more than before, Tom, and I am certain that you knew I would.”

“Nay, divinity, I truly only sought to give you pleasure. Had I known how you would feel, I should not have made my small offering to Aphrodite.” He pointed to the base of the goddess’s altar where he had spilled his golden seed. “Had I but known, Val, I’d have held back so that you might be fully satisfied, my darling, for despite all your protestations, I believe you would have enjoyed our union even if your conscience did prick you afterward.”

She blushed, then laughed weakly. “Nay, we were wise to abstain from fully satisfying our passion. I am not a wanton, to couple with every man who takes my fancy.” Valentina pulled her blouse up and, standing, smoothed her skirts down. She reeled, dizzy for the briefest moment.

He leaped to his feet to steady her, murmuring jealously in her ear as he did so, “And just how many men have taken your fancy, divinity?”

“Button yourself up, my lord,” she said, gently easing herself from his embrace. “We must return to the beach lest Murrough send someone after us and we are caught in our dalliance. The walk back will cool our passions.”

“Having tasted of your sweetness, Val, I am not certain that the memory of this moment will not but increase my passion for you. A mere walk is not apt to bank my fires, divinity,” he concluded, laughing weakly.

“The goddess,” said Valentina, “has shown us both of her faces, Tom. We have been pleasured, yet neither of us is truly satisfied. I wonder if there is meaning in that.” Then her mood lightened. “Let us gather flowers on our way back and use them as an excuse for our long absence.”

“No one,” he said, “will dare to question us.”

“Not even Murrough? I think he will tease us,” she said with a laugh.

Murrough, surprisingly, said nothing. This business between his cousin, his younger brother, and the Earl of Kempe would eventually sort itself out. He hoped that Valentina would choose to wed Padraic, for he suspected that if she did not, Padraic would never marry at all. He was such an intense young man and had surely not lost his heart easily.

Murrough was glad that the match his mother had arranged long ago for him with his stepsister, Joan Southwood, had turned into a love match and a happy marriage. Murrough was not a man for high passion and wild romance.

“Did ye place an offering on the goddess’s altar?” he asked Val and the earl when they returned to the shore. The goats had been roasted, their cavities stuffed with wild thyme the crew had found growing on the sandy hillside.

“Aye,” Valentina replied. “We offered an armful, just like these. We picked these for Padraic. How is he?”

“This ship’s physician says ’tis just a light sprain. Padraic should be fit and walking by the time we reach Istanbul, if he will stay off the damned thing until then. ’Twill be your job, Val, to make him behave.”

The moon was already silvering the placid sea when they arrived back at the ship after feasting on savory kid. Padraic was awaiting them, sitting on the deck, his leg propped up, looking grim.

Valentina ran to his side with the flowers. “Look, Padraic! We brought them for you. Are they not lovely?”