Suzanne Robinson (24 page)

She wanted him! She enjoyed him as he enjoyed her. A fierce exultation and pride rushed through him. The underpinnings of his soul came loose. Frightened, he sought escape from the feelings in arousal.

He moved so that he could run his tongue from her breasts to her navel. Kate’s hands fluttered, seeking to restrain him. He caught both of them in one of his and wouldn’t let go. She made a sound of protest, but he kissed his way down her abdomen until he reached the curls between her thighs. He kissed them, and she gasped. Her hands writhed in his. She tried to press her legs together.

“Hush,” he said. “This is the way to madness, and I’m going to show you now.”

He held her open and pressed his mouth to her. She sucked in her breath, but she let him continue. He raked his tongue over her, separating the lips and seeking out the small bud of flesh. Finding it, he suckled gently. Kate’s whole body relaxed. Her hips thrust up, and he gathered them in his hands.

Relentless, he teased and stroked rhythmically. He quickened his pace as Kate began to pant. Her body was covered in a thin film of perspiration, and his hands slid
over her skin. The wetness drove him to take another risk. Slowly he eased his hand to the opening that lay below the place where he worked his mouth. He circled the entrance with his finger, then inserted it. Her muscles jerked and spasmed about his finger. He moaned into her flesh and sucked hard. Kate cried out in the frenzy of orgasm. He felt her body convulse, grow rigid, then subside.

That feeling of pride returned briefly before he succumbed to his own lust. Hugging her small body to him, he spread her legs with his knees.

He rained kisses over her face and neck. Her cheeks were damp from tears, but she smiled at him.

“Wonderful,” he said. “Like female Cognac. Little savage, give me the madness of pleasure.”

She spread her hands out across his back and kissed him.

“Be still,” he whispered, “and relax.”

He put his hand on her hip, then gradually slid it lower to cover her loins. When he parted her flesh, she ducked her head and buried her face in his neck. To him the rest of the universe dwindled until it focused on the tip of his phallus where it lodged at her entrance. He pressed forward. Living flesh quivered about his muscle, and he lost all control. As he felt his will give way, he stabbed with his hips. He burst through a thin barrier, and at the same moment, Kate whimpered.

He had never given a woman pain before. He had never taken a virgin, never wanted one.

“Oh no,” he said.

He gritted his teeth and prepared to withdraw. He lifted his hips, but Kate grasped his buttocks and pulled him back to her. Losing his balance, he came to rest inside her again. All he could do was groan and begin his painful retreat once more. As the tip of his penis reached her entrance, those torturing hands came back to thrust him inside again.

“No,” he said. “I hurt you.”

Kate was panting. Her face was tense, but she refused to let go of his body.

“I want to feel your madness,” she said. “The hurt isn’t bad, and there’s pleasure too.”

She lifted her hips, swallowed him, and Alexis gave up. He began to pump back and forth. The feel of her hands on his back and buttocks increased his passion. His universe shrank again and stayed shrunk. He thrust gently at first, then harder as sensation crawled up his shaft, into his loins, and back down. Over and over he pushed in and withdrew until he felt himself swell and pulsate. As he began his explosion, the blessed cavern of muscles that held him contracted. For the first time in his life, Alexis gave a small roar at the moment of his climax. He drove his penis to the mouth of her womb. Arching his back, he held himself rigid and endured the spasms of painful pleasure.

At last he collapsed on Kate and breathed heavily. Her arms came up to embrace him, and he smiled. “Was I mad enough for you?”

She squeezed him. “Yes. Your surrender was most pleasing.”

He lifted his head and let out an indignant curse. She grinned at him. Noticing her flushed skin and wild hair, he smiled too.

“And your surrender brought me great joy as well.” He eased to her side and drew her into his arms.

Stroking his left arm, Kate whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not demanding a one-sided surrender. You gave yourself to me as much as you asked me to give myself to you.”

“I had no idea I was so … so …” He gave up trying to find the words. “Kate, it isn’t always like this.”

“You mean I won’t always like it?”

“I mean with others there isn’t the same feeling of giving. Damn.”

“I know.”

She sounded sympathetic, and he realized she was as taken aback as he.

“I’m going to have to think about this,” he said.

“So am I.”

She put her hand on his thigh and sank her fingers into the muscles.

“But not right now,” he added.

“No, not now.”

He held himself still, intrigued by the look of curiosity on her face. Her hand slipped to his inner thigh and squeezed. He began to swell. He remained motionless and held his breath as her hand explored him. She touched his penis, and his hips jerked.

“My love,” he said. “You can’t do this again.”

“But I want to touch you. I don’t have to wait for that, do I?”

He gave a pained laugh. “I should have known better than to expect you to play the hysterical virgin.” The adventurous hand left him. “No! You misunderstood. I’m overjoyed.”

Taking her hand in his, he placed it where he needed it to be.

Alexis was on his way to Carolina Beechwith’s apartments. It was after midnight, and he was tired, but he’d promised Carolina. Even if he hadn’t, his last encounter with the woman had convinced him of the need to rid himself of his old obligation. After that afternoon’s sensual cataclysm, he could delay no longer, especially considering Kate’s remarks as they were winding down the tower stairs.

She had been following him with her skirts gathered in both hands while he’d transported the blasted crinoline. As he rounded a turn, he noticed that the little footsteps behind him had ceased. He looked back over his shoulder. Kate was perched several steps above him, skirts lifted. She was staring at the mortar between two stones that formed part of the wall.

“Is something wrong, my love?”

Turning her head slowly, she looked
down at him. He had the feeling she was surprised to see him there.

“No,” she said. “I’m not sure, but I think I’m a Fallen Woman now.”

His jaw went slack, but only for a moment. “You are not.”

“Oh yes I am. Mama has been most adamant about virtue, you know. I am definitely a Fallen Woman.”

“Now see here—”

Kate went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “But I couldn’t help it. The thing is, Alexis, we’ve made a mess of things.”

“I don’t see how.”

“I can’t be a Lady anymore. After all, Ladies don’t make love to gentlemen unless they’re married. And since you want me to be proper and decorous and all those kinds of things, it appears to me that I can’t touch you anymore.”

It was her brain, dammit. If only she weren’t so bloody intelligent. Alexis propped the crinoline against the wall and went up to her. She was giving him a puzzled examination.

“You hate it when I’m improper,” she said.

He backed her against the wall and started nuzzling her temple. “This is an exception.” He kissed her. He couldn’t help thrusting his hips against hers. Instantly in flames, he tried to squish her body between his own and the stones behind her.

She tore her lips free. “This is hypocrisy.”

Bracing his hands on the wall, he pushed away from her and met her eyes.

“You’re right, little savage. But if I went around openly flaunting my personal relationships, it isn’t I who would suffer. Like you, I can do without the approval of people with minds like little biscuit tins. However, Fulke and Hannah and my mother cannot.”

Kate bit her lower lip. “Neither can my mother.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Neither could Ophelia.”

Bending to her, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Ophelia would not give up. Her heart was set on being the mistress of Castle Richfield, and she had such persistence.”

“It runs in the family.” Kate stiffened abruptly. “Shhh.”

She poked her head under his arm and listened.

“What?” he asked.

“I hear Dinkles.”

“Lord deliver me.”

“Quick! To the curtain wall. Well run to the next tower.”

“Anything to avoid an infestation of Dinkles.”

Alexis’s own chuckle woke him from his reverie. He looked about and found that he’d taken root in the Long Gallery, which connected the family apartments and guest rooms. Set with tall windows and paneled in oak, the hall was lit by twenty silver candle sconces bearing the family arms. He began to walk again, passing portrait after portrait.

Sighing, he faltered beside a study of Charles II and addressed it. “It has to be done, Your Majesty. You should understand the duty owed to one’s mistress.”

Charles stared out at him with regal nonchalance. Alexis sighed again and continued on into the hall that led to Carolina’s apartments. He stood in front of her door, put his hand on the knob, then withdrew his hand.

Contemplating the door panels, he felt his mood grow blacker and blacker. There was something wrong with him. The thought of fending off Carolina—and even possibly succumbing to her—alarmed and annoyed him, and he kept remembering how innocently puzzled Kate had
looked on the Ghost Tower stairs. He remembered her calling herself a Fallen Woman.

“Better not,” he said to himself.

He turned on his heel and retraced his steps. He was opening the door to the long gallery when it hit something solid.

“Bloody hell,” said Val.

His friend backed up into the light of a candle sconce as Alexis entered the gallery. Val held a heavy, long sword. Its blade gleamed in the candlelight, but was subdued compared with the brightness of gold hair and hate-kindled eyes.

“What are you doing with that sword?”

Val lifted the hilt in front of his face in a salute. “Mademoiselle St.-Germain is a lady of peculiar tastes.”

Alexis folded his arms over his chest and waited.

“Oh, all right. Tonight seemed a good time to rid merry old England of a festering pustule by the name of James Brudenell, Earl of Cardigan.”

Holding out his hand, Alexis remained in Val’s path. Val glared at him, but relinquished the sword.

“The only reason I’m giving it to you is because you’re unarmed, and I don’t want to hurt you in a fight.”

“Certainly,” Alexis said. “Never mind the fact that you’re tired from carting it all the way from the great hall. Your hands are shaking. Come along.”

He placed a steadying hand on Val’s arm, and they started back to the private wing.

“You never spied on your men,” Val said.

“Of course not.”

“He did. And he tried to court-martial an officer for ordering the wrong wine at mess. He had the most expensive regiment in the Horse Guards. All the officers had to furnish themselves with the finest Thoroughbreds—for the hunt, you know—and the best cuisine, the most fashionable tailors.”

“But he doesn’t deserve to be killed for being a prima donna.”

They had reached Val’s rooms. Alexis crossed the sitting room and dug in a cabinet for a decanter of port. He gave Val a glass, but he refused it. Alexis propped an arm on the mantel and watched Val wander from armchair to desk to sofa to window. He stayed longest at the window, looking out into the darkness.

“Your hatred is consuming your health,” Alexis said.

Val jerked his head around and glared at him. “You were wading in blood that day too.”

“That’s why I want to know the truth, Val.” He was presented with the back of a golden head.

Alexis set the glass down and walked up behind his friend. “Tell me.”

“No.”

Val placed the flat of his hand on a windowpane. Alexis knew that hand would be as cold to the touch as the glass beneath it.

“Then I’ll tell you what happened,” he said. “It took twenty minutes to ride down the valley of death. One and a half miles of cross fire riding straight into artillery. All you saw at first were swords in the air. Pistols fired in all directions. Everyone was slashing about, cutting away. All around you, round shot, mortar fire, and rockets exploding, and the longer you rode, the more men fell, until the ground was covered with human bodies and horses.”

“Stop.” Val dropped to the window seat and huddled there.

“You were covered in blood when I found you, lying half under your horse.”

Val exploded. He sprang at Alexis, fists flying. Alexis dodged and caught him. Falling forward, he deposited his friend back on the window seat, then grabbed the flailing arms. He forced them behind Val’s body, then resumed his soliloquy while fighting to maintain his hold.

“Remember the sounds of the artillery? Innocent little fizzes and whirrs that cut off a man’s head, blow away his legs and his cock, or maybe only sheer away an eyeball or a jaw.”

“God, Alexis, no!” Val heaved up, gave a long cry of anguish, and collapsed. Turning his face to the cushion of the window seat, he began to shudder.

Alexis shook him. “Tell me.”

“Tell you?” Choking back sobs, Val turned his wet face to Alexis. “Damn your soul. I’ll tell you just to make your nights as horrifying as mine. I was riding back. I could hardly see ahead for the smoke, but I could see the ground. I was riding on a carpet of bodies, the bodies of my friends and my men. Atherton was beside me, but a musket caught him in the chest and he fell. I tried to go back, but others were coming up behind and blocked the way. I was swept on, but I heard him call my name.”

Val paused. He was oblivious to the shivering that racked his body. Alexis released his arms, but he didn’t move.

“He called to me,” Val said, “begged me to help him. But I couldn’t see him. I wasn’t hurt, not until I was almost out of it. I should have been able to see him. He screamed my name, again and again, and I finally spotted him. I was turning my horse to go back, but something hit me. If only I could have stayed conscious.”