The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (71 page)

He didn’t waste any
time in taking her at her word. Plundering her mouth with a ferocious
need to conquer, he stoked their burning need into a raging,
out-of-control conflagration. Kiss for kiss, need for need.
Forgetting about his sore shoulder, he held himself on his arms above
her. “If you want me to stop, it has to be now, love. Any further
and I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”

“No. Don’t stop,
please...”

Raising himself above
her, he pressed his hips closer and, flexing gently, slid inside of
her. She held her breath at the odd, not-quite-comfortable sensation.
He penetrated a little further, moving smoothly between her slippery
folds. He halted and began to slide out. She clutched at him,
wordlessly pleading with him not to leave her. Then, she gasped when
he returned and thrust in further.

This time, he glided in
and pushed as far as he could go. She tightened at the discomfort his
penetration was causing. He hesitated, murmuring words of comfort and
encouragement. “It’s alright, love, it’s done now.” His hand
ran up and down her side to calm her. “It hurts the first time
because your body is not used to it, but it will get better each time
we do it, I promise you.”

She wasn’t certain
what to think, what to feel, but his soothing caresses were creating
havoc anew inside of her. His wily fingers found the very spot she’d
been aching for him to touch earlier, and he gently stroked her
sensitive nub. Her nerves tightened and leapt, her legs wouldn’t
stay still, until finally they found anchor by winding around him and
holding him tight against her.

He rocked their bodies
together, setting off a swooning sensation streaming through her. She
cried out at the dizzying feelings commanding her body. He plunged in
and out, steadily increasing the pace until, calling out lusty words
of encouragement he took her on a wild ride, carrying her along on a
tempestuous journey, heading for the summit of some breathtaking,
unknown mountain peak.

Her body moved with
his, arching and lifting, the sound of skin slapping excited her,
exhorting her to reach ... for...

“Let go. Let it all
go, sweetheart.” He encouraged. “Don’t be afraid, I’ve got
you.”

She keened a sound that
matched the wild tremblings taking over her body, dominating her very
soul. A fiery fury unleashed within her. She arched higher into him.
“More. More.” She wanted, needed.... Suddenly a storm tossed her
gasping and spinning on a wave of such intense pleasure, she thought
she’d pass out. Throbbing, thrumming waves undulated, eddying out
from her female core to the very end of each extremity. She was cast
into a world of sensory chaos swirling about her, and held tightly
onto her only anchor.

But he wasn’t
finished. He urged her up and on, driving into her with stronger,
faster thrusts. Deeper he went and, suddenly, piercing joy hurled her
up into the waves again, flying up to the crest, only this time, they
flew together. She relished his shout of release as it melded with
hers. She cherished his weight covering her. She felt triumphant,
glorying in the satiating aftermath of having pleasured and been
pleasured.

As promised, his arms
were there waiting to catch her on her leisurely return to the world
she knew. Strong and steady, they held her close on her shivery,
trembling way back, soothing her with moist, ardent kisses along her
neck and face.

She clasped his beloved
face between her hands, and tried to express what she was feeling.
“That was so beautiful... beyond words...”

“Ah... my love.” He
dropped a soft, yet fervent kiss on her lips. “You take my breath
away. If we had made love when my memory was gone, I would have
immediately known you were a counterfeit wife, my darling, because no
man, not even one without a memory, could ever have forgotten being
with you like this, experiencing these unbelievably enticing...
extraordinary... enthralling moments with you!”

“Not bad, are they?”
There was a hard edge to Reed’s tone.

“Not bad? My good
man, these are amazing! How…” Wendal Lawton, paused, as if just
now realizing how incredible they were. He’d never paid much
attention to Tally, had more or less ignored her, in fact. She didn’t
paint, so of what interest could she be to him? “But why? Why did
she hide her talent all these years?” The renowned artist was
clearly shocked at his youngest child’s talent. Maybe even a bit
envious, now that his skills were waning in his sunset years.

“Perhaps she wanted
to be loved for herself, rather than for her talent?” Reed knew
there was no point in explaining Tally’s reasons for keeping her
abilities secret. But he couldn’t help himself, even if her father
would never understand. When Lawton returned only a puzzled look,
Reed shrugged and left the older man studying his daughter’s
paintings with a jealous eye.

Reed moved through the
crowd, looking for his wife.

Today was their second
wedding anniversary and he had surprised Tally with their very own
art gallery, which he’d named “The Spare Rib”. Tonight was its
private opening, an exclusive showing of her paintings. He’d only
invited family and friends this first night, because he hadn’t
discussed with her about going public and showing her paintings under
her own name.

Only because he’d
wanted this to be a surprise. He knew how much it bothered her to
sign a man’s name to her art, so didn’t expect her to object to
this daring move of his. He was so proud of her. He wanted everyone
to know how talented she was. He was sure her paintings would succeed
no matter what the gender of the artist.

To his surprise, the
name of the gallery was exciting a lot of comment among his friends,
the Spares. He was gratified so many of them had come, even if the
lot of them were claiming he had pinched the name from their
Brotherhood. They seemed flattered and were taking it as a
compliment. He hadn’t the heart to tell them he’d never even
thought of them when he’d chosen the name. He’d had an older,
more biblical origin in mind!

“I’m telling you,
Jace, soon it will become
le
dernier cri
.” Max loved an audience and with so many
Spares there tonight to egg him on, he was in fine fettle. “Spare
cafés will be springing up in every town, Spare modiste shops, Spare
apothecaries... Why I wouldn’t be surprised to find Spare taverns!
Though, I wouldn’t be pleased if they were to
spare
the drinks in there!

He grinned at the
collective groans from the men listening to his levity. It only
encouraged him to continue. “Or what about a Spare brothel?” He
peeked around quickly to make sure no woman had joined their circle.
“Would the women all have to be
spare
?
Heaven forbid they
spare
us their company? And one hopes they’d be un
sparing
in seeing to our pleasure.”

By now the men,
including Reed’s brothers were snorting and, given the venue, were
trying not to erupt into ribald laughter at Max’s drolleries. Jace,
standing back a little from the circle, rolled his eyes when he
turned to greet Reed.

Reed chuckled at his
friend’s reaction. Then, under cover of their laughter, he said,
“Olvin isn’t here?”

“No, he’s in
France. He was so dismayed by his step-brother’s astonishing
escape, that he’s come out of retirement to help recapture him.
He’s hell bent on making sure Traubridge doesn’t remain on the
loose.”

“So where does that
leave you?” As expected, Jace had taken over the clandestine group
of men who called themselves the Chief’s Crew. “It can’t be
comfortable having your old boss back in the field.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m
grateful, in fact. There are so many cases lately that I’m glad to
have him back to lead the Traubridge investigation.” Jace’s
sincerity was obvious. “He’s already fully-informed on the
matter, so it leaves me free to take care of the far-too-many other
investigations that have fallen into our laps. I keep telling you,
there’s so much work, I could use your help.”

“Sorry, my friend.
One lengthy investigation was my limit. I’m an artist, not a
warrior. I’ve always told you. I’d rather make art... and love...
than war any day.” Reed laughed aloud at his marriage-shy friend’s
grimace and, after patting Jace on the back, he moved on to the next
group, this one comprising his wife’s family.

“But why didn’t she
tell us?” Venetia sounded hurt. “We would have been happy to help
her get on her feet.”

Hargrave put a
consoling arm around her. She leaned closer, accepting her spouse’s
comfort.

“Precisely why she
didn’t tell you.” At their stunned looks, Reed glanced around and
explained, “Haven’t you noticed how independent your little
sister is? She didn’t want to become part of the family
extravaganza. She’s quiet, so you assumed she mustn’t be
talented.” He lifted his hand to silence their protests, “I know.
I know you love her... in your own ways...” He directed a
contemptuous look at the twins before continuing. “She doesn’t
like a big fuss the way you do. Too much fanfare embarrasses her. You
mistook that for lack of talent, but you were wrong.”

“Fah! Completely
wrong!” Venetia had recovered her fire and was generous with her
praise. “It’s hard to believe she is Paul Vernet Hill! She is the
best of all of us!”

“Not better than
Father!” Tony exclaimed.

“Maybe even that.”
Though Venetia lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder when
she said that.

“I agree and I expect
her family to stand behind her when it comes out tomorrow that she is
Vernet Hill, last year’s great art sensation. Your public support
will mean a lot to her.” He directed a stern look at the twins.

Had Reed followed his
own preferences, the twins wouldn’t have been invited this evening.
Selfish twits! They’d stolen and spent Tally’s money and caused
her untold trials! But, now that she was settled and happy herself,
he knew that his soft-hearted wife would have been saddened if her
brothers had been left out, despite their dishonest antics. He
wasn’t, however, prepared to let them forget what they’d done and
was making it clear they’d never get the chance to make her unhappy
again. Not with him around.

“
Naturalmente
!
We are proud to support Talia.” Her mother was nodding vigorously
and sending meaningful looks at her boys.

Reed was pleased to see
this. Too bad she’d taken so long to act and demand they behave.
Tally’s life during those four years when her parents deserted her,
had not been easy. At least her mother had come round in time to make
the twins pay back every penny they’d taken. Although she no longer
needed the money, his wife hoped it would prove a salutary lesson for
her brothers in the future.

“Impressive
initiative, Selwich,” Morley commended as he joined them. He was
accompanied by the Duke of Merriman and Lady Lawton. “I’ve
already spotted a few I want to add to my collection.”

“I’ve told him
he’ll have to wait until I get my pick first,” Tally’s
grandmother said. “It’s amazing to see so many of Talia’s
pieces in one place. Do I gather from the name of your gallery that
you intend to display women’s art exclusively?” Lady Lawton
sounded approving, as well she might. His wife’s strong independent
streak had been fostered by her Great Aunt Ida and her identical
twin, Lady Eva Lawton.

There were protests
from the male Lawton’s who had obviously been looking forward to
their chance to display their work in the center of London.

“In fact, I’ve
already booked a woman artist for next month,” he winked at Milana,
who was being uncharacteristically quiet.

Venetia turned on her,
“You knew!”

“No! Not about
Talia’s talent! And I only found out about the gallery when Selwich
approached me last week to offer me the opportunity to show my
paintings.” She patted her older sister’s arm consolingly. “Talia
told him you haven’t been doing much painting lately because the
strong smells of paint and turpentine are upsetting your stomach.
Once
il bambino
is
born, you’ll be able to work again, just like after the first two.
Then you can put together your own show. Right?” She looked at
Reed, wanting him to placate her sister.

“Of course. Family
first.” He looked across the room and saw Monsieur Moreau and
Gaston Beauclaire arriving. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must
go find the guest of honor.”

It took time to make it
across the room because he was stopped by many who wanted to
congratulate him on his new venture and his talented wife.

“Son, you must be
proud of yourself tonight. Looks to be a fine success!” His father
sounded jovial but there was a forced tenor to his good-humor. He was
looking uncomfortable. Reed’s mother must have had to exert a lot
of forceful persuasion to get the Earl here. She gave Reed a
triumphant smile as she released him from her warm hug.

They were standing in
front of a painting Tally had done of him, in his studio, standing in
front of his easel painting. She’d captured him as he was
distracted from his work and was looking at her. He loved this
painting and had placed a “Not for Sale” sign on it, but he’d
had to include it because it was one of her best.

“Talia’s work is
remarkable, dear. I had no idea.” She sounded envious and now Reed
understood why. Just this past week, when he’d told her about this
new venture — the only other person he’d told about his surprise
for Tally — she’d finally showed him her own portfolio of
sketches and several paintings she’d done before his father had
discouraged her from continuing.

“It will be your
turn, next, to show yours.” His mother meant under his own name,
since she well knew he had been displaying and selling his art for
years under a pseudonym. She glanced sideways at his father and
stared down his angry look. She’d always been supportive of her
eldest’s creative outlet. Now he was returning the favor,
encouraging her to begin again. She thought she was too old, but he’d
insisted she wasn’t and, if it made her happy, she should do it.
But she hadn’t yet divulged her renewed pastime to his father.
Perhaps now would be a good time.