Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere (17 page)

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Although it had no taste, Marcus had eaten the last of his breakfast. He simply had gone through the process. He remained the only person in the morning room. Still very early, Marcus assumed that Lord Worthing had seen to his having several choices of meals, so he dutifully partook of the dishes and offered appropriate praise. He had left a note of thanks with Mr. Lucas to give to Kerrington, along with the information on Lord Averette for Shepherd.

Last evening, the ladies had entertained the household guests with music, and then they had set up card tables, but Marcus had had little patience for either. His mind constantly drifted to those few stolen moments he had shared with Cashé. He wanted nothing more than to grab the lady’s hand and return to his room to finish what they had started–to sate his growing desire for her. She sat at a table with Kimbolt, her twin, and Lowery. Observing their group, Marcus soon discovered that he would enjoy pounding his friend into the ground–an irrational response–but nothing about the green-eyed monster was rational. Unable to watch without a violent response, he excused himself early, claiming this morning’s journey as a pretext. His last image of her was when he bowed over Cashé’s and Satiné’s hands. He felt cheated by the formality.

Unable to dwell any longer, Marcus made his way through the still shadowy hallways and out across the open expanse of the manicured lawns to the stables. He had ordered his horse saddled by six, wanting to cover more than half the distance to home today. A sleepy groomsman motioned Marcus into the stable before stumbling toward the estate kitchen for his own meal. Driven to know where she was in the manor, Marcus turned one last time to search the many windows, illogically hoping Cashé stood at one of them–her needing him as much as he needed her. Seeing nothing but drawn drapes, blocking out the sunrise, he had dejectedly entered the dark building, only one lantern indicating the stall, which held his waiting mount. For the hundredth time today, he wondered if he had been wise to kiss the lady last evening. It created a gaping hole that he could not fill with anyone else.

Making his way along the line of stalls, his hand caught the latch where Khan pawed the hardened earth in restlessness. Yet, when he opened the gate, a force propelled itself from the shadows, hitting his chest with an impact that sent Marcus staggering backward against a wooden support with a “Thunk!”

Marcus caught his attacker by the shoulders, ready to snap the interloper’s neck, when his senses said “Female” and then “Cashé,” and he released his grip before basketing her in his arms and sitting on a nearby bench. With shaking hands, he soothed her trembling form. “Sweetling, never surprise me like that again.” He kissed the top of her head. He had wanted her with him, but his heart lurched with the knowledge of how close he had come to harming her. “Tell me you are not hurt,” he pleaded in hushed tones.

“I...I am well,” she whispered.

Marcus moved her away where he might see her face, to confirm that she had not suffered from his rough handling. Suddenly realizing Cashé had worn her hair down, he replaced a strand of hair behind her ear. He had imagined her as such when he had watched her last evening. “Darling, I am thrilled to see you, but why the secret assault?” Marcus drawled as he kissed her cheek.

“It was never meant to be an attack,” she asserted with her usual defiance, a trait he had thought he despised, but now found quite adorable. Cashé gestured toward the stall. “I wanted to hide–to surprise you.” Her bottom lip trembled. “But that...that animal...” She pointed her finger at Khan. “Does not like me.”

Enjoying the spontaneity of her actions, Marcus watched her face’s animation. She had come to him of her own free will, and his body reacted automatically. “Khan will not hurt you,” he assured as he pulled her close again.

Cashé rested her head against his shoulder, mindlessly stroking his chin line with her fingertips. “He is so large,” she weakly protested.

“A man needs a horse upon which he can depend.” With his knuckles, Marcus lifted her chin. “Tell me what happened.”

“I heard you speak to the groom, and I slipped into the stall to surprise you. But your horse also heard you and pushed me against the stall’s side.”

Marcus doubted that Khan actually pushed her. More than likely, Khan shifted his weight, and Cashé panicked. “As long as you are uninjured...” He leaned forward to take her lips. His efforts brought her arms about his neck, and Marcus deepened the kiss, taking up where he had left off yesterday. Surprisingly, Cashé had learned her lesson well; her tongue danced with his, and she sucked lightly on his bottom lip. When they parted, Marcus huskily said, “Thank you for seeing to my departure.”

“I...I do not know...it is not proper,” she whispered.

Marcus smiled tenderly. “But I will cherish this memory during the time we are apart.” He brushed his lips against hers. “It is a special gift.”

She pulled herself closer. “Would you give me a gift?” Cashé kissed his neck and ear.

Marcus thought if she would continue to kiss him as such that he would give her anything.

“If I can,” he breathed the words as he closed his eyes to the sensation.

Cashé ran her tongue about his ear, and Marcus groaned his pleasure. “I need a token...something by which to remember you.”

Marcus growled, “Am I that forgettable?” He did not think he could become more aroused.

Cashé innocently rubbed her body against his. “I want something that is just mine...something I will never have to share with anyone else.”

Marcus took her mouth again, bringing his hand from her waist to brush against the underside of her breasts. He ran his knuckles back and forth, caressing the lower swell of her ample endowments. He drank deeply of her lips and enjoyed how she clawed at his shoulders. Finally, he palmed her left breast and massaged it gently, lifting it to the edge of her gown’s neckline. Cashé moaned, and Marcus sent his finger across her nipple, budding the hard tip with his touch. “You are so beautiful,” he rasped, his lips returning immediately to hers. He thought he might explode with desire.

“Marcus.” Cashé pushed further into his palm. “I cannot bear it.”

He smiled at her smoke-filled eyes. “There is so much more, Sweetheart.” He slid his fingers along the lace opening, touching her nipple. He knew from holding her that she wore no corset, evidently dressing quickly to meet him. Nothing would keep her from his gaze if he dared to lower the dress. “Darling...let me see you,” he begged. “I will not hurt you...you must trust me, Ma Chère.” Marcus lightly squeezed the nipple between his fingertips.

She did not answer, but Cashé lay out across his arm, inviting his attention. Marcus shifted her weight and then maneuvered the material off her shoulder; he lowered the dress’s front to expose her breast as he untied the ribbon of her chemise. He heard his own gulp for air, but he reached for the glorious globe. He had never seen someone lovelier. Marcus squeezed the nipple again, noting how Cashé’s hips undulated to a primitive rhythm. “Breathtaking,” he murmured as he leaned across her to run his tongue around the nub. Then he sucked lightly.

Cashé understood what he had asked of her, but she had wanted this. She had wanted a man who would love only her, and although she realized on some plane that the earl was worldly, she did not believe he would steal her innocence and then walk away. If nothing else, she recognized him to be an honorable man. His breath caressed her exposed breast, and she held a twinge of guilt, but then he said she was breathtaking, and Cashé knew she had made the correct choice. She relaxed into his manipulations, allowing her body to feel something she had never expected. To be able to give herself to this man would prove the smartest thing she had ever done.

He continued to circle the dark tip with his tongue feeling the smoothness of her skin with the rough texture of his mouth. Such an arousing contradiction! He realized he was close to taking her like some doxy in a stable, and it took everything in him to withdraw. When he raised his head, Marcus gently restored her clothing as he kissed her neck. “Cashé,” he groaned, “if we stay here... “

She opened her eyes and flushed in embarrassment. She looked terrified. “What...what must you think of me, my Lord.” She turned her head from his gaze.

Yet, Marcus would have none of it. “Look at me, Cashé.” He waited until she obliged. “What I think of you, Ma Chère, is nothing as you imagine. You are obstinate and head strong, but you are also thoughtful and tender and passionate.” Her eyes grew in amazement. “I have never met a woman who angered me more or one I have wanted more. You are a conundrum, and I will spend my life learning your many secrets.”

Cashé’s eyes misted with tears. “You have feeling for me!”

Marcus chuckled. “Believe me, Sweetheart, if I did not care for you, I would not have stopped. You deserve better than a smelly stable for your first time.”

Cashé innocently asked, “Where?”

Marcus kissed her cheek. “Darling, please do not set me thinking of where I might wish to make love to you.” She was the most puzzling woman he had ever met. One moment she spouted strict Biblical interpretations and the next she pondered where they might take pleasure in each other’s bodies. Needless to say, Cashé Aldridge had much to learn about life before this could go any further.

He stood and set her on the ground before him. Marcus cupped her chin. “You need to return to the house before someone realizes you are missing. The servants are up, and others will soon follow.”

Cashé went on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “My gift, Your Lordship?” she teased.

Marcus ran his fingers through his hair. “I do not know what would please you.” He tried to think of something in his bag to offer her.

“Something you would never give another,” she insisted.

Then Marcus knew what it should be. He released her hand and strode to where Khan still stood. Fishing in his saddlebag, he found exactly for what he searched. Cupping it in his palm, he dropped a yellowed piece of lace in her open hand.

Cashé looked on in dismay. “It is lace, my Lord.” Her eyebrow rose in question. “I never thought you as the type who kept lace in his bag.” She suspected it belonged to his mother or his grandmother.

“I carried it with me through all the years I was away from Berwick. It has survived battles and the worst of conditions.”

Cashé smiled brightly. “Then I shall cherish it until we meet again. Was it your mother’s?” She delicately folded the scrap of material.

“No, it was Maggie’s”

Cashé saw the pain flit across his face. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Who is Maggie?”

His Adam’s apple worked hard, but Marcus managed to say, “Maggie...Margaret Wellston...my twin.”

He said no more, but she realized now why he had understood her better than anyone else and why she had required his approval above all others. Cashé walked into his arms; there she remained in a silent embrace until they heard voices in the stable yard. “Farewell, Lord Yardley.” She touched his face with her fingertips and then turned quickly toward the rear door.

Marcus automatically caught Khan’s bridle, but he watched the sway of her hips before she had disappeared from sight. He had walked the animal outside to mount. He needed to draw attention away from her return to the house.

The head groomsman spotted him. “Is something ill, Your Lordship?”

“No,” he said jovially. “I just seem to be a bit distracted this morning.” Marcus accepted the man’s boost into the saddle. “When you speak to Lord Worthing, tell him I appreciated his hospitality.”

“I will see to it, Lord Yardley.”

Spotting the pale blue of her dress crossing in the direction of the lower gardens, Marcus turned Khan twice in a circle to keep the men’s attentions. Then he rode away–his heart folded neatly in the palm of her hand–all his love wrapped in a small fragment of lace.

Cashé had not had time to think about what had happened with Wellston in the Kerrington stables. She had rushed from his embrace to the privacy of her room, clutching the lace he had placed in her hand–a piece from his twin sister Maggie. She had known he had had a brother for whom he cared, and she had known His Lordship’s parents no longer lived, but he had never mentioned a twin. Even when she had disclosed Satiné’s existence, Lord Yardley had said nothing. What was it that so devastated the man that he had clung to a scrap of lace? And why had he shared it with her? Yes, they had shared an intimacy that she never expected from any man. Yet, when he had handed her the lace, Lord Yardley had touched her soul, not just her body.

Returning to her room, Cashé had stripped away her gown and had returned to bed. Pulling the blanket around her, she had buried her head into the pillow and looked at the lace as it lay beside her on the bed linens. She placed her hand over it and closed her eyes to imagine that he rested beside her–holding tightly to her hand. Cashé never felt so much love. She kept telling herself that the earl truly cared for her, or he would not share his token.

Later, she had analyze how he had touched her–how her breasts swelled just thinking of him–how a heated dampness appeared in her most private place. When His Lordship’s mouth suckled her, fireworks, like those she had witnessed at Vauxhall Gardens, exploded before her eyes. She had wanted him to do more–to touch her in other places. Uncle Samuel would think her a pure wanton; he would denounce her actions–would call her the most vile names–would force her to confess to the entire congregation and do a very public penitence. Yet, Cashé accepted the fact that if Lord Yardley walked through her chamber door, she would welcome him to her bed. “What has happened to you?” she asked herself, but the only answer was a piece of lace–her connection to the Earl of Berwick.

“I need to discover more of Maggie,” she said aloud as she tried to calm her nerves and return to sleep. “Lord Yardley’s relationship to his twin would tell her how she fit into the man’s life. If he agreed to share his demons, then she would need to be prepared to help him.

Marcus’s body still strummed with life an hour after he had ridden away from Kerrington’s stable. He would never be able to look at that building again without seeing Cashé’s form stretched across his lap. Just the thought of it brought another rush of blood to his groin. How he managed to withdraw, he still could not explain. Marcus wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman. Unfortunately, he recognized that once would not be enough. He would never sate his need for her–even if he had her every night for the rest of his life.