A Lady Betrayed (21 page)

The house had fallen silent, and only one candle burned on the table by her bed. A floorboard creaked in the hall, and she lifted her head, refusing to hope. It was only the house settling as the air cooled. Yes, now all was quiet again. She blinked. Hoping did no good, hadn't she told herself—

Her door opened, and the viscount slipped inside on stockinged feet, shutting it noiselessly behind him.

“I will stay only if you wish it,” he said very low. “But since we have so little time remaining to us, I thought perhaps you might wish…”

Knowing her face was alight, she held up her arms to him, and he came quickly to her.

For a few minutes he held her, and it was enough for her to cling to him, cherishing the knowledge that he was real and solid and alive, breathing, whole. She cried a little, her face against his chest, still trying to cope with the overpowering blow of the information of his double threat.

“Madeline, my love,” he told her, kissing the top of her head, then lifting her face and kissing away the tears on her cheeks. “All men die when their hour comes. We are alive now; this is no time to think of sadness. Let me show you how to celebrate life, instead.”

“Yes, please,” she said.

He bent to kiss her lips, and she tasted the salt of her own tears. Without speaking again, he lifted her nightgown and pulled it over her head, tossing it away. Because she had hoped he might come to her, she wore nothing beneath.

His dark eyes glinted with appreciation. “My darling, what a beauty you are,” he breathed. “More than Aphrodite herself—if we dwelt on a classical isle long ago, the Greek goddess would be jealous and no doubt drive us into the sea or send monsters to devour us.”

She laughed at such nonsense, but it warmed her, too. She was emboldened to sit and pull his linen shirt up over his head and fling it aside to follow her abandoned nightgown.

And below the waist—she blushed to consider going farther, but he pushed down his trousers and kicked them away, and then he lay back upon her bed and waited for her to join him. She climbed back onto the bed, eager for their lovemaking to begin. But this time, Adrian seemed to wait—for what? Was she supposed to start, do something? She still had so much to learn!

“What should I do?” she whispered.

“What would you like to do?” he asked. He lay back against the mattress and grinned up at her.

“I like to touch you,” she told him.

He raised his brows, but he smiled, so this seemed acceptable. She curled up on her side and dared to run her fingers over him, relishing the freedom to explore what would shortly be her husband, her new property. His skin felt different than her own, that was true, but she liked the feel of it, the coarse touch of his dark body hair, lightly sprinkled over his chest, growing in a thicker vee that reached down to his private area—she still couldn't quite manage to stare at that without feeling shy.

She jerked her gaze back and ran her hands over his chest, touched the muscles that shaped his shoulders and upper arms and felt her blood heat even warmer as she marveled at what a well-made male animal he was.

Adrian made a contented sound, more a groan than a sigh. “You're teasing me, but I love it,” he said, very softly.

Happy that this felt good to him, too, she leaned closer and kissed his neck just beneath his chin, then snuggled closer and kissed him again and again, on his neck, on his shoulders, on his chest where his flat nipples seemed to call to her.

He made an inarticulate sound.

Maddie put her arms about his neck and pulled their bodies closer together so she could press her breasts against his chest; they seemed right there, their softness felt good against his firmer muscled torso, and her stomach against the hardness of his. She moved against him again as he groaned once more.

“There are limits, my lady,” he told her, his voice hoarse, as he reached for her hips to pull her even nearer into him. She could feel his maleness growing harder, and she couldn't keep from moving a little against it.

“Are you heavy with need for me?”

“Yes, my love,” she whispered. “I want you—at once!”

She kissed his neck again, and when he lowered his head, she found his mouth and they met as eagerly as hungry men granted access to a king's banquet. His tongue slipped through her open lips, probing and impatient. and she met him with her own, feeling as fevered as he.

And even as the kiss continued, and their passion grew and climbed, she felt him pull her hips close and position her so that he could slip inside her, and the delicious pleasure of that touch made her the one to moan aloud this time.

“Oh, yes, my love,” she muttered, not very clearly as they still kissed, then broke apart briefly to shift position. She found that Adrian had again pivoted to lie on his back. She was startled to find herself atop him, although they were still joined.

What—was this possible?

Her lover grinned up at her. “Do just what you like, my love,” he said.

And she found that she could. Sitting over him, her legs bent, she held onto her knees and discovered she could control just how deep he was inside her, and in this position, the pleasure seemed even more intense. So she moved her hips with greater and greater speed and abandon—it was wonderful, it was freedom, it was the two of them released to ease each other into transports of delight.

The circles of pleasure ran over her body as intensely as before, and more, deeper and greater, rings of fire and ice that tingled through her, carrying her along with sensations she had never imagined. Her skin felt as if it were on fire, and the ecstasy was inside her and out, almost too much to be contained. Who had designed such joys—had the angels spun such feelings over thousands of years?—Maddie thought dimly in some distant corner of her mind. Surely this was too great to be merely made of flesh and bone. This feeling, this soaring lifting, intense and exploding ecstasy—

She gave a wordless cry, just as Adrian's hoarse exclamation came, and then he grabbed her hips and held her, held them together as she felt him spasm, again and again, and then they both collapsed into a heap of tangled arms and legs. She felt as boneless as a bowl of blancmange quivering in the summer's heat, and just as quivery as the pudding.

Every muscle of her body was relaxed, at ease, and their lovemaking seemed to have given her more than physical release. Somehow the rest of her doubts had drifted away, as well.

When had Adrian ever done anything except look out for her well-being, anything except try to protect her? Yes, he was stubborn and tended to make decisions too quickly and then inform her, but didn't most men? Give the two of them—please God—a lifetime together and she might teach him to better involve his wife earlier. But in the meantime, how could she rage at him for trying to keep her alive?

“I love you so,” she told him, as he held her inside his arms.

“I love you more than life, my sweet Madeline,” Adrian told her, looking down at her with his gleaming dark eyes. “That is why I must not allow my own special doom to touch you.”

“But, Adrian—”

“No, Madeline, try to understand,” he told her, his tone quiet, but firm. “When the war ended, I swore I could never again order another man to his death. Such were my dreams that…well, you have heard of the pools of blood that follow me.”

Expression bleak, he shut his eyes a moment, and she shivered, just to think of such an image.

“So I must keep you safe. When I know that can be done, I will be able to consider another alternative, but first, you must allow me that.”

Looking into his eyes, she saw there the overpowering need, and she had to nod, reluctantly, and touch his cheek.

“It's just—you hold my heart in your hand, Adrian,” she whispered. “I will not be whole until you return to me. Remember that, as well!”

“I won't forget,” he told her. “Ever.”

Then they lay close and did not speak, but words were not necessary.

When dawn neared, Adrian kissed her one last time and
left as quietly as he had come. Her body eased, if not her mind; she slipped into an uneasy slumber. When she woke again, the sunlight slanting in her window showed the day much advanced. She blinked at the light, and it all rushed back—the glories of the love they shared, both the exquisite joys of the physical pleasures they could give to each other, and the aching pain of her fears for him, and herself, the pain she would feel when he had left her.

The melancholy she felt was held at bay only with great effort, but she knew she could not allow it to paralyze her now. Time enough to mourn later, she told herself, one arm over her eyes—once he was gone, there would be endless time. Just now she must treasure every moment they had together. Maddie hurried to wash and dress, and when she came downstairs, she found everyone else had already finished breakfast and gone about their morning routine.

Going down the hall, she heard the murmur of the men's voices in her father's study. She found Felicity and Bess in the kitchen. Bess was rolling out a pastry for dinner later, while Felicity stirred a pudding, also to be steamed for the main meal.

“Are you all right?” her friend asked. “We didn't wish to wake you. Bess thought your head might be aching.”

“No, I'm fine,” Maddie lied. “Just a restless night. No, don't stop what you are doing. I can get what I need.”

She made herself a cup of tea and some bread and butter and sat down at the plain wooden table to eat. The everyday routine going on about her should have been soothing. But Felicity looked a bit wan, as if her thoughts might also be troubled.

Maddie was keeping enough secrets of her own to know better than to pry into her friend's thoughts. So after she finished her light repast, she made no attempt to inquire, merely making light conversation while she helped with the cooking. When the dinner preparations were well underway, she and Felicity left Bess to take care of the rest, shed their aprons, and went back to the sitting room.

“I need to make sure of the fit of your wedding gown,” Felicity told her. “I've pressed the lace and sewn the ribbons onto your best petticoat. While the men are still at their game, why don't we go upstairs and you can slip on the gown?”

Maddie agreed and they climbed the staircase again. When she shed her day dress and carefully donned the white silk gown, it was strange to stare at her reflection in the looking glass. She seemed a stranger—and she looked pale, ashen from head to foot.

“The gown is lovely,” Felicity said. “The seamstress did a wonderful job. It's most becoming.”

“Thank you,” Maddie said, her voice faint. The person in the glass seemed foreign, a stranger. She, a married woman…and how long till she was a widow, and the white replaced by black? Oh, she could not bear it!

She put her hands to her cheeks.

“Madeline, what's wrong? Are you regretting that you said yes?” Felicity asked.

“No, no.” Maddie covered her face, breathing deeply and trying to compose herself. Briefly, she told Felicity about the viscount finding the bullet.

“It was my ‘bee,'” she explained. “He has an enemy who is trying to kill him—it's a long and complicated story—the man is quite mad. The viscount feels he must leave until—if ever—the man is no longer a threat to Lord Weller and those around him, especially, just now, me.”

“Oh, how dreadful!” Felicity said, looking shocked. “Of course I understand that he does not want to see you hurt—I most certainly agree with his caution. But surely there must be another way?”

“So I have tried to argue, but without success. The apparent murder attempt at the vicarage has only strengthened his resolve to leave as soon as we are wed. So you can see that I view my fast approaching wedding with very mixed emotions!” She swallowed a sob, determined not to weep again.

Felicity hugged her briefly, but Maddie, although she appreciated her friend's support, sniffed and said, “Yes, but let's be sure of the fit. I want to take off the dress; I cannot bear to think about this.”

“Of course.” Felicity checked the gown and the cape that went over it, and then Maddie shed her wedding costume, somehow feeling it unlucky to wear it too long before the actual wedding day. She had enough portents of bad fortune, already.

They hung the gown up carefully. While Felicity carried the cape back to her own room to fix a few loose threads, Maddie took her mother's letters and made her way to the attic.

She had wanted to visit her mother's grave by the church, but the viscount thought that too dangerous just now, so she had decided that this would have to do. In the attic she knelt by the trunk where she had found the ribbon-bound packet in the first place. She kissed the thin stack and put it back in the very bottom of the trunk where she had first seen the book of receipts it was hidden in.

“Mama, I'm glad you had the chance to love, and I'm glad you took it,” she whispered against the dusty lid. “I'm not angry at you, I promise. I understand.”

Then she rose. Wiping her eyes, she descended the steps and began an orgy of cleaning, as if that might take her thoughts away from the jumble of anxiety that filled her mind.