The Silent Love (30 page)

"Well then, I shall think upon it and let you know." She raised a hand to Darwin, who aided her from her chair and David rose quickly to walk out with her. She leaned down to kiss Hannah's cheek and whispered. "This then, shall be your night... do not shirk your wifely duty, child. It would make the Marquis very angry."

She winked at the girl and went slowly out the door on David's arm.

* * * * *

.

It was long after the departure of the last of their guests that Hannah and David were alone in the study. They were silent and tense, for each one so aware of the other, was reluctant and shy, as they had been since discovering the truth of their relationship.

David, his manly need stirring against his will, shifted uncomfortably in the chair and gave her a sidelong glance.

Sensing his look, she turned her head slowly and looked back at him, her eyes unreadable in the shadowed light of the fireplace.

Outside, the rain battered on the windows, driven by a strong howling wind. It was cozy here by the fire and warm, as well.

Hannah lifted a hand to her throat, touching the pulse that beat there in a rapid tattoo. David's eyes followed the progress of that fluttering hand then moved upward to her lips, his gaze growing warmer, the firelight dancing there and giving him a most roguish appeal.

The silence stretched between them still, and their eyes were locked in a silent communication that only a man and woman can know at such a time. The air fairly crackled with the heat of David's desire and a warm, tingling sensation raced along her skin, moving down her body to her womb, where it throbbed.

The feeling startled her and she tore her gaze away from him, and he instinctively knew her fear.

"Hannah..." his voice was deep and mellow, and hesitant as well. "If you should wish to retire alone, I will not pursue the matter this night, but— "

He swallowed a lump in his throat then continued, "I would that we talked this out sooner rather than later. We cannot ignore what is between us, and you are, in truth, my wife."

She lifted her eyes to his once more and the answering gleam of desire shot through him like a hot poker, sizzling along his nerves, worsening his already embarrassing condition. "I think the time for talking is past, David. We know already what each of us would say."

"And?" He lifted his dark, heavy eyebrows in a question, wanting to be certain of her meaning... willing her to say what he needed to hear.

"And, Milord, I do think it is time to retire to our bed." Made bold by the look in his eyes and her own pressing need, Hannah's eyes burned darkly. "For I am tired of waiting for you... "

"Go then, Milady, and I shall follow you shortly." His voice was rich and deep—nearly a primal growl in this throat—and her nerves tingled in expectancy at the sound.

She quit the room, not looking back. She knew he would follow, knew it well, for his warm gaze stroked her as he tracked her movement with his eyes.

Hannah allowed Elspeth to assist her from her gown, brush her hair out and warm the bed, dismissing her with an admonishment. "No need to wake me on the morrow, and, Elspeth, do knock before you enter the chamber from now on. I shall not be alone."

Elspeth curtsied and left the room, her eyes sparkling with delight. At last the mistress would come into her own. The maid's romantic heart beat a rhythm of gladness as she went to her own bed, stopping by the nursery to check on her charge along the way.

The whole servant's quarters were abuzz with the news, it would seem, and Elspeth was glad to add her share to the gossip abounding there.

* * * * *

.

The room was dark, and the fire was tamped down to glowing coals. The drape was drawn tightly across the window, holding back the night. David stepped through the door and stopped, adjusting his eyes to the gloom, then came forward to the bed, and unlike those other times, he could see her shadowy figure as she lay as far from him as she could get.

He smiled to himself as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Her heard her small gasp with some pleasure as he she gazed upon his body.

Hannah closed her eyes and heard the thump of his boots as they hit the floor, her body jerking involuntarily, for it had been a long time since she had heard that sound, and it startled her, despite her eagerness for him.

The bed dipped under his weight as he slid beneath the coverlet and she pulled herself into a small, tight ball, inching closer to the edge of the bed, her heart tripping.

David lay a moment on his back, waiting for her, and, when she did not move, he sighed and rolled to face her. He reached out a hand and touched the familiar silk of her hair against the pillow. His hand moved slowly downward and tugged at her shoulder, pulling her upon her back.

Her body uncurled, and she lay prone, waiting in her turn. He breathed in gently and let it out on a sigh as his hand moved over her soft flesh, covered only by the thin linen of her night rail. She trembled beneath his touch, and the blood quickened in his veins.

"Hannah... sweet lovely Hannah." He breathed her name, his hand stroking, stroking.

"Nay, Milord, do not speak." Her voice quivered at his touch.

"No? And pray tell, why should I not?" He was amused, but puzzled.

"I would have it as before, at least for tonight." Her voice was shy.

"Hmmm... as you wish." He then moved closer and drew her beneath him, his hands tugging at the hem of her gown. He growled softly in his throat, that humming noise that she remembered so well. David cared not if she wanted silence, only that she wanted him.

She shied away as he lifted her, and he gentled her with his lips to her brow, then moved his mouth down her cheek to find her, kissing her deep and long, and she no longer resisted him. Gratified that she accepted his touch, David drew her into his world of passion, gentling her when she would flee from him, drawing her when she sought him once more.

Through the night they renewed their silent vow of love and Hannah knew a fulfillment at last, of that which she had heretofore only dreamed.

* * * * *

.

David opened his eyes slowly, aware that someone watched him. Thinking it was Hannah, he turned his head and smiled at her, but she slept on, her face turned toward him on the pillow. He then moved his head the other way and came face to face with Clay, who gazed at him from the edge of the bed.

David had a moment of discomfort, then realized that he
belonged
in Hannah's bed, and smiled at his son, reaching out to tousle the black curls.

"What do you here so early in the morn?" He whispered to the boy, not wishing to wake his mother.

"I am hungry, and nanny has not come yet." Clay peered past his father's shoulder, looking at his mother as she rested on his far side. "Momma sometimes feeds me early... for my tummy growls and makes awful noises."

He
His small voice
whispered to David, answering him in the same low whisper.

"Well, then you and I shall raid the kitchen, for I know that cook put by some very nice meat pies and we can feast on them."

Remembering that he had no clothes on, he added, "Go and fetch your clothes and meet me at the top of the stairs... and be quiet, for we want no intruders on our raid."

When the boy had run off to do his bidding, David slipped from the bed and donned his trousers and shirt, not bothering with buttons nor shoes. He went along the hall, his heart singing at the thought of being with his son and remembering the night with the boy's mother.

 All was well in David's world... with the exception of losing the old Marquis, he thought sadly.

He entered the cavernous kitchen, the flagstones cool beneath his shoeless feet. Thinking he'd take time for slippers when they next did this, he smiled at his son, who sat at the table.

"Shall I call you Papa?" Clay munched on a cold meat pie and sipped from a mug of warm milk, leaving a crescent of the white milky film on his upper lip.

He looked so endearing that David hugged him, but the boy drew back and looked up at his father with an imperious frown. "It is not seemly that you should be so familiar with my person, sir. I am, after all, the Marquis."

"Yes, my boy, that you are. But I am your father and shall hug you without reserve and you shall do my bidding until you are old enough to do your own." David's voice was stern, but gentle. He knew the child had many confused notions and silently berated his own father for filling the boy's head with this nonsense.

"Then I shall call you father, I suppose. Papa... " Clays small face clouded with worry, "... he has gone away to heaven and we shall not see him ever again."

"Not in this life, Clay, but surely when you've reached the ripe old age of ninety you will wish to join him in God's heavenly paradise." David gentled his son, smoothing his dark hair.

The child pulled again away from his touch, his voice imperious. "'Tis unseemly, I tell you, for a Marquis to be so coddled. I would that momma would stop it, but she never does."

David sighed in exasperation, for he could see that this would be no easy task, bringing his son around in his thinking. But he began as he meant to go on, firmly grasping the boy's shoulder and turning him so
 
they should face one another. "I will tell you this, young lad. When I or your mother wish to pet your hair or hug you, you will accept it with gratitude, for there are many in this world who would give much for the affection you have been shown. Do not toss away so lightly those gifts."

David thought of his own lonely childhood as he spoke and it strengthened his resolve to teach the boy. "And your manners need a little polish as well. You do not speak so to an adult. You are but a child, Marquis or not, and shall obey your elders, politely. Understood?"

Clay bowed his head and tears filled his eyes. "Yes... yes sir... father." David, thinking he had won him over quickly enough, was gratified. He missed the rebellious gleam of those amber orbs, or he might not have been so quick to relax.

"Well then, that is much better. Finish up and we'll go for a walk. 'Tis early and the birds are just beginning their day. We shall join them and mayhap see a few of God's creatures on our hike."

The boy gobbled his breakfast at those words, ready to go out into the woods with the tall man who was now his father. Nevertheless Clay was determined to be like Papa had said, and gave the man a sly glance, appraising him, thinking how he could get around the man without seeming to. Clay was a clever child.

.

* * * * *

.

Hannah awoke to an empty bed, no different than all the mornings of her life that had gone before. She was disappointed to find that David had gone off so early, for she had looked forward to seeing him first thing. She went through her morning toilette and descended the stairs to the breakfast table, to find
 
her husband and
 
son were out tramping the woods.

"Darwin, have you seen Master Clay? Or David?" Hannah looked a question at him and glanced out the window as the sound of Clay's voice piped across the lawn.

"Yes, Milady, the master has taken the boy for a walk."

"Why do you call him the master? He is my husband, it is true, but he is not master here." Hannah was piqued at the retainer, for his hints and allusions and secrecy were getting on her nerves. Though she wished with all her heart it were so, David was not the true master of this house, and in reality, her son was no longer the heir, she supposed.

"As you say, Milady. Shall you have your usual breakfast?"