Authors: Tamara Lejeune

When You're Desired (30 page)

BOOK: When You're Desired

6.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

But she could not answer, for his mouth had closed over hers again. The kiss grew wild, and whirling her around in his arms, he lifted her off her feet and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. They undressed each other eagerly, expertly, and fell to the hearthrug, panting with desire. They knew each other so well, there was little to communicate. He knelt between her thighs and she waited, unresisting, her lips parted, understanding perfectly what he wanted. Though as practiced a lover as any he had ever known, she knew when to let a man be a man. He drove into her, rigid as iron, and took his pleasure, knowing she would find her own. Her body pulsed with his, her womb opening and closing, and they arrived together at the very summit of pleasure. He fell, spent, into her arms, glazed in sweat. She caught her breath first and said, “If we go on like this, my lord, there will be a child. There will be no help for it.”

He was still inside her, and his member stirred again at her words.

“Is it what you want?” she asked, in wonder.

He raised himself on his elbows to look into her huge, glimmering eyes. “Would it be so terrible?”

She drew her finger along his jaw and smiled. “Oh, I think I could bear it, my lord,” she said softly. “I think I might bear you a dozen children very gladly.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, cupping one perfect breast with his palm, “not all at once. And perhaps, not right away. I do not want to share youânot yet, not even with my own babe.”

“Then we must be more careful.”

“It is difficult to love you cautiously,” he grunted, moving against her again.

“We need not be cautious now, after all,” she panted, catching his rhythm. “The damage is done.”

Sometime later, they moved to the bed, and she nestled in his arms.

“How I missed you when you were gone!” he murmured. “I missed your strength. I missed the sound of your voice. I missed your laughter. I missed your bad temper.”

“You missed my golden hair and perfect breasts,” she retorted.

“I missed them, too,” he admitted. “Where did you go?”

“I went down to the country withâwith friends,” she answered. “I could not bear to see you with Belinda. Though I understand I missed quite a comedy!” she added, laughing.

“Miss Archer is a foolish child,” he said.

“And you are a bully.”

“I did not bully her,” he protested. “She is a helpless little fool, frightened of her own shadow. You know I have no patience with such creatures. She expected me to coddle her, I suppose, but as she was only there to make you jealous, and as you were not there to see it, I had no reason to fawn over her.”

“Brute!”

“No indeed. I was polite but distant. You were the one I wanted to hurt. I cannot bend you to my will, and it drives me mad,” he confessed. “You need no one. You have a life of your own, apart from me completely.”

“You are wrong,” she cried out softly. “I am not so remote as all that. I need you. Oh, I do need you.”

She kissed his mouth until they were both breathless. “Oh, Simon! I realized my mistake almost at once, with Armand. I thought he loved meâperhaps he didâbut it was chiefly my money he wanted. I wanted so badly to go to you then.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Would you have taken me back?”

“Of course. I would have punished you a little, perhaps, but yes, I would have taken you back.”

“But it was too late. You had someone else at Brighton. And by summer's end, you had been posted to Vienna for the Congress.”

“You should have come to me at Viennaâor Brussels, when the war started up again.”

She sighed. “I had no money. Armand took everything I had. I could notâI would not go to you a pauper! I have my pride, too, you know.”

“When I came home, after Waterloo, I wantedâDear God, how I wanted you! But I would not allow myself to go to you. I refused to compete with Fitzclarence.”

“Clare was never my lover,” she said quickly. “I swear it. You have no rival. No one has ever compared to you. No one even comes close.”

“Not even Tom, your garden bench?”

“You were never jealous of him, surely?”

“Wasn't I?”

“But he is just a boy.”

“An eager boy who worships the ground you tread upon.”

“I thought I was the jealous fool,” she laughed. “I thought you were fascinated by Belinda. I have made myself miserable. You chose your weapon well. I know she can give you the one thing I can't.”

“What is that?”

“Her virginity,” Celia said simply.

He caught his breath. “I should have liked to have been the first man who ever loved you,” he said. “I would have gloried in taking your innocence. But I couldn't care less about hers. She can die a virgin for all I care.”

Celia laughed. “Then I have no rival?” she said happily.

“No indeed.
She
was never of interest to me. I was more interested in her mother, as a matter of fact. But when I saw how jealous you were, I could not resist.”

“You were interested in Sybil Archer?” she exclaimed, laughing. “Good God, why?”

“She claims to have a letter from . . . a
certain gentleman
.”

Celia understood perfectly to whom he was referring.

“She claims he made her certain promises. I was hoping to get a look at this letter, if it exists.”

“And does it?” Celia asked, always eager for any gossip that touched on the royal family.

“I cannot say. She tells me it is the sort of thing she would show only to a potential son-in-law. When Belinda becomes engaged, I may have something to do. Until then . . . we must let sleeping dogs lie.”

She sat up and looked at him. “You are amazing,” she declared. “Does Prinny even know all the things you do for him?”

“I hope not,” Simon replied with a faint smile. “The shock might very well stop his heart, and I would not want that. I am rather fond of him, you know.”

“He is lucky to have you,” she said. “But not,” she added, grinning as she burrowed under the covers, “as lucky as I am!”

In the morning, Celia was hungrier than she had ever been. Leaving Simon still asleep, she dressed quietly and went down to eat breakfast. When she returned, bearing his breakfast on a tray, he was just stirring. She set the tray beside the bed and leaned over to kiss him.

“Taking a flyer?” he said, observing that she was dressed to leave the house.

“I have an early rehearsal,” she apologized.

“Nonsense,” he growled. “You never get up before noon.”

He reached for her, but she eluded him easily. “I wish I could stay,” she said. “But the new actress only arrived yesterday, and our first night is the day after tomorrow.”

He sat up. “What time is it?”

“Eight o'clock,” she told him.

“I have an appointment.”

“I have a hackney waiting for me. May I set you down?”

He shook his head. “I am to meet my brother at Berkshire House. I can walk.”

Getting out of bed, he looked around for his clothes. They had been scattered over the floor, but Celia had picked them up for him and placed them on the chair near the fire. His saber leaned against the chimney piece. “I may have some news that will please you,” he said as he began dressing. “A certain gentleman may be attending the play on Thursday. He has a mind to see St. Lys in breeches.”

Her face lit up. “Really? That would be wonderful!”

“You mustn't tell anyone,” he said quickly. “The movements of princes are best kept a secret. And besides, he has been known to change his mind at the last minute.”

“I shan't breathe a word,” she promised. “Will I see you tonight?”

He shook his head. “I shall be on duty, I'm afraid. Tomorrow?”

“I shall be in rehearsals all day, and I play that night.”

“Send to me at my club and I will come to you.”

“I'll do better than that,” she said, opening the little reticule that hung from her wrist. “I shall give you my key. Then you can come and go as you please.” She placed it on the breakfast tray, kissed him again, and left.

That same morning, the Dowager Duchess of Berkshire dressed carefully, ate a light breakfast from a tray in her boudoir, and went down to the library to await the arrival of her two sons.

The night before, Dorian had dragged her out of bed and forced her to sign a sheaf of papers. Naturally, she had protested, but he had shown her a piece of paper. With a shock she had recognized the hand of her dead husband. It was the will she had believed destroyed forever. She thought she had burned the only copy, in the library at Ashlands a decade before, but she had been deceived. And now, it seemed, she had been betrayed. The man Crutchley had kept the original, a document she had not even known existed. And at Ashlands the servants obviously had talked. It was only a matter of time before Dorian found out about Sarah Hartleyâif, indeed, he didn't know already.

Naturally, she had denied everything. Of
course
Hotchkiss had not seen her burning anything in the library at Ashlands on the day that her husband had died. The very idea was absurd. She knew nothing about this new will. She had never seen or heard of it before.

But Dorian, to her shock, had not believed his mother. Dorian always believed his mother. She had signed the papers to appease him, but he was not appeased. He wanted her out of Berkshire House. She had been ordered to pack her things and go. If she left quietly and gave him no more trouble, he would not expose her, he said.

“But my dear Dorian!” she had cried. “You do not seriously believe that I hid this from you? You take the word of a servant over mine? I am your mother.”

He had looked at her with such hatred that she had recoiled in real fear. “I wish to God it were not so,” he had said, and there could be no doubt that he meant it.

What had happened to turn him against his own mother so completely? She vowed never to rest until she found out. After he had departed, taking the will and all the papers with him, she had called up all the servants and questioned them thoroughly. By dawn, she knew everything.

When the door opened and Simon entered the room, she was at first taken aback. She had been planning what she would say to Dorian. But on second thought, it would not be such a bad thing to bring Simon to her side first. Then, together, they might be able to save Dorian.

“Good God! Who died?” Simon asked, catching sight of her.

She had dressed for effect, in black from head to toe. Jet ornaments glittered at her ears and throat, and a large brooch containing a white lock of her late husband's hair had been pinned at her throat. She looked pale and frail. In short, she had reclaimed all the pathetic dignity of her widowhood.

“It is the anniversary of your father's death.”

“Is it? I thought my father died in the summer.”

“You may have heard of his death in the summer,” she replied sternly. “You were in India at the time. I always wear black on this day.”

“I see,” he said briefly. “Where is Dorian? He wanted to see me about something, but I'm afraid his message was somewhat cryptic. Is he not here?”

“He still keeps at his club,” she said. “But I expect he will return when he has put me out!”

Simon raised a brow. “Put you out? What do you mean?”

“First he stripped me of my jewels. Now I am to be thrown out of my home!”

“But why? What did you do?” he asked, suppressing a laugh. “It must have been dreadful indeed to make Dorian angry enough to toss you out on your . . . er . . . ear.”

“It's lies,” she said angrily. “All lies! He thinks I have done terrible things, but it's not true. I've done nothing wrong. Everything I did was for the best. Everything I did was to protect my family. But
she
has turned him against me. I fear we may have lost him forever.”

“What are you talking about?” he said impatiently. “Less drama, madam, and more detail. Who has turned Dorian against you? What does she say you have done?”

Her green eyes lit with fury. “Her name is Sarah Hartley!”

“And who is she?”

“She is no one,” said the duchess. “She is nothing. She was a penniless foundling when I took her under my wing.”

“When you what?” he said in surprise. “I didn't know you had a charitable bone in your body.”

BOOK: When You're Desired

6.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads