Dancing on the Wind (57 page)

He braced his hands on the railing and raised his face to the sky. The moonlight gilded his face to impossible handsomeness. Bright star of the morning, most beautiful of God's host, beyond the ken of man—or woman.

"But I was a fool to think it possible to have that kind of closeness with anyone else," he continued. "Elinor and I were
born in the same hour, of the same blood. Together we learned to play, to talk, to laugh—to share all our thoughts and emotions. And even with Linnie, that would have waned when we grew up. Perhaps it's as much a curse as a blessing to be a twin, because it gives one an appetite for what can never again be attained."

After a long pause he said in a scarcely audible voice, "I suppose that what I really wanted was to recapture the golden days of my childhood, before I discovered what a painful place the world is. You can't give that time back to me. No one can, any more than I could have replaced Kira in your heart if she had died. She comes first with you. She always will. Tonight I realized that I would not be content with any shreds that are left over, and it's better not to try."

He looked at her then, his eyes a pale, moonstruck green. "It has been a
pleasure knowing you, Lady Kathryn. I learned many useful things about myself."

She shivered, the chill of his distance far worse than the bitter wind.

Noticing, he said, "You should go inside. After surviving so much, it's foolish to risk lung fever."

Before she could reply, a light came on in a bedroom in the wing of the house that ran at right angles to the section they were in. Kira was visible in silhouette going to the window to draw the curtains. Before she could, Jason came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him, her head falling against his shoulder with complete trust.

Lucien had seen also, and his hands tightened on the railing. When Kira turned in Jason's arms and they kissed with an intensity that blazed through the night, Lucien turned sharply away and ushered Kit into the bedroom. She agreed entirely; that tableau of tenderness was too private to be seen by any outsider, even a twin.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Kit. It must hurt to be excluded." He looked at her, that green in his eyes intensifying. "Did you come to me because you felt rejected and wanted company while Kira went to her lover?"

"Good Lord, no!" She took a deep breath, knowing that to break through his barrier of distance, she must be as insightful as he had been in building it. "You're right that being twinborn sets a very high standard for closeness, but I think you're wrong that only a blood tie and a shared childhood can create true intimacy. Being a twin is wonderful, and Kira and I are as close as two sisters can be. Obviously, you and Elinor shared an equally special love.

"But twins are siblings, with all of the advantages and limitations that implies. I hope—I believe—that passion can create a different kind of bond that may be even deeper. I want closeness as much as you do, Lucien. I assumed I would never marry because I didn't think I could find that kind of emotional bond with a man, and I didn't want to settle for less." Her voice broke. "I… I never imagined a man like you. In the last few weeks I've learned there is a kind of intimacy that a woman can find only with a man."

Raw anguish showed in his eyes. He wanted her. Of that she was certain, for it showed in every line of his body. But she knew intuitively that he had already surrendered hope for the black peacefulness of defeat. To reach out for what she was offering was to open himself to loss again. By letting her own fear and confusion come between them, she had made love a risk he no longer dared take.

Since thoughts and fears had become an impassable barrier, it was time to invoke the awesome power of passion. She raised her hand to her throat and unhooked the sable cape, then let it slide from her shoulders in a cascade of lustrous dark fur. Underneath she still wore Mace's satin, leather, and lace.

Lucien tensed as the sexual awareness that was always between them crackled into fire. "Don't do this, Kit," he said tightly. "Sex creates an illusion of closeness, but it vanishes as quickly as ice in the sun. I found out years ago that coupling without the possibility of something deeper was a sure route to desolation."

"You would know that better than I, but surely physical fulfillment is part of what we both want."

His face hardened. "If it's a bedmate you want, look somewhere else. You don't need me."

"You're wrong," she said, voice shaking. "All of my life, Kira was the essential person. Oh, I have loved my mother and Jane and others, but I could and did survive their losses. Only Kira's death would have left me so diminished that I would no longer be the person I once was." She caught her gaze with his. "Now there are two essential people in my life. I need you as much as I need Kira, but in a different way. You will never be second in my heart, Lucien. There is room enough there for two."

He shook his head, desolation in his eyes. "Even if we both want the same thing, wishing isn't enough to make it happen."

"You're right, wishing isn't enough. We must
make
it happen." Reaching into herself, she conjured up the sensual allure she had learned as Cassie James. Then she moved toward him, the high-heeled boots making every step an exercise in provocation. Black satin shimmered over the curves of her body and her breasts swayed within the lattice of leather laces. "Can't we at least try one more time?"

"I don't know if I can endure another failure." He stared at her, his chest rising and falling as if he had been running.

In his eyes was fierce longing, yet when she extended her hand, he made no move to accept it. For a moment she despaired. Then she realized what was lacking. She opened her heart, then reached out again. This time she silently offered her love.

Later she could never remember which of them moved first, but they came together with savage abandon. His mouth slanted hard over hers in a wordless cry of yearning, loneliness, and hope. She recognized his tortured emotions, for they found echoes deep inside her. When she kissed him back, it was a plea and a promise.

The desperation between them eased, leaving more room for the primal blaze of passion. "Dear God, Kit," he said huskily as his deft fingers undid the lace thongs, releasing her breasts into his hands. "You're more than mortal man can resist."

"Then don't… resist." Fabric ripped, buttons popped, garments fell as they instinctively sought to bare their bodies as thoroughly as their minds. The bed creaked with protest at the force of their arrival. Then flesh against flesh, musky scent and liquid heat, taut muscle and harsh breath. Passion was the instrument, and intimacy the goal.

When they had made love before, she had pulled away, fearing that she would lose herself in him beyond recall. This time she did not retreat. Instead, she dropped all the barriers, concealing nothing of herself. In that surrender she found fulfillment. If Kira
was her other self, Lucien was her soul.

He had feared this fevered mating almost as much as he had craved it, terrified that it would be only of the body, leaving his deeper self unsatisfied. Yet this time she was there, her love lighting the dark corners of his mind, her tenderness a balm to his aching heart. She knew his strengths and failings, his fears and hopes, as surely as he knew hers. And the love that joined them was as unmistakable as the sun.

The physical climax was shattering, a fiery symbol of the melding of their spirits. Afterward they lay face-to-face in each other's arms, her forehead against his cheek, her ragged breath stirring wisps of his hair. He was half afraid to move in case this was only a dream and he risked waking.

But she was more real than any dream when she tilted her head back and said lazily, "Did you know that your eyes turn to transparent gold when you're happy?"

He gave a slow smile, knowing only Kit would say something like that. "I think of them as a rather ordinary hazel."

"Nothing about you is ordinary," she said with conviction.

He ran his hand down the naked curve of her back, loving her lithe strength. "Though you've suspected me of being a rake, for years I've been nearly celibate because the satisfactions of coupling were brief compared to the loneliness I felt after. But making love with you is as soothing as it is intoxicating." He bent his head and gave her a light kiss. "I feel so content right now that it's hard to believe we'll ever need to speak a word aloud again. We can simply read each other's minds."

"We might not
have
to talk, but we'll want to. I love talking with you." She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. "I love looking at you: I love making love with you." She blinked pensively. "Have I mentioned yet that I just plain love you, body and soul?"

"No, but after the way we made love, you don't have to." He lifted her hand and kissed it. "The feeling is entirely mutual, as you know."

"Yes," she said with perfect contentment. "I know."

He brushed a kiss on her forehead. "You and I suit each other perfectly, my little tiger kitten. We both prefer lurking behind the scenes to being on center stage."

She laughed. "That's true, isn't it? Kira and Jason are both more sociable types."

He wound a silky strand of her hair around his forefinger. "The estate that borders Ashdown will soon becoming
on the market. I had intended to buy it and farm the land, then lease the house,
but perhaps Jason might be interested in the place. It's a fine property and
convenient to Bristol, which would be a good base for his shipping business."

"And Kira and I can be neighbors for the rest of our lives," she said quietly. "What a wonderful, generous thought."

"I'm being entirely selfish. The happier you are, the happier I'll be."

Her quick smile soon faded. "I'm still astonished that you love me. And… I think I'm a bit afraid you'll be disappointed when you see me in more mundane circumstances. So much of what you've seen has been me pretending to be Kira, rather than the real me."

"Nonsense," he said calmly. "It isn't only the world that tends to define identical twins as opposites—twins do it to themselves as well. You could never have impersonated Kira so effectively if you didn't have the same qualities in yourself. In the last few weeks you haven't been playing a role, you've been discovering your own nature."

She blinked at him. "You really think so?"

"I
know
so." This time he kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm glad you're retiring as Cassie James, but I hope you'll still dance for me. You make a delightfully wicked Gypsy."

"You may have a private performance whenever you want."

"I still like the idea of a special license. We can be married before Christmas."

"An excellent plan—the best of all possible presents." She stretched languidly, then settled closer to him. "Very practical, too. Kira claims that I'm pregnant." She laid a gentle hand on her belly. "Another essential person might be on the way."

That startled him out of his lassitude. "Indeed? If she's right, that's a wonderful news." He propped his head on his hand and studied her face. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I wanted you to marry me because you loved me, not because you had to."

He smiled ruefully. "You're more honorable than I, Kit. For much of what might be laughingly called our courtship, I had a thoroughly selfish desire to get you with child so that you would have no choice but to accept my offer." He laid his hand over hers on her abdomen. "I'm not a very admirable character, you know."

"I am," she said in her primmest, most Kathryn-ish voice. "I have every intention of devoting the rest of my life to your physical and spiritual upliftment."

"Speaking of physical upliftment…"

She laughed as he rolled her on top of him, and she discovered that the physical was definitely uplifting. After settling over him with a provocative wiggle of her hips, she asked in a voice husky with love, "Do you think we'll have twins?"

Author's Note

The Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe were founded in 1752 by Sir Francis Dashwood, a man whose great wealth and talent were matched by his passion for debauchery and love of outrageousness. The world at large called the group the Hellfire Club, and its preoccupations were sex and Satanism. I don't know that any of the members were as dreadful as the worst Hellions of
Dancing on the Wind
, but as a group they were brutal, selfish, and terminally immature.

Members of the club included some of the most influential men in Great Britain, including Lord Sandwich, the First Lord of the Admiralty, and Lord Bute, a prime minister. Benjamin Franklin might not have been a member, but he certainly attended some of their orgies and lobbied the members to win support for the American colonies in the early 1770s. Together Franklin and Sir Francis Dashwood wrote a prayer book that was a great success in America and became the basis for many modern prayer books.

The Hellfire Club's first meeting house was in an abandoned abbey on an island in the Thames. The chapel and grounds were full of clever, wildly obscene artwork. Alas, some years later the location became public knowledge. Sightseers overran the Garden of Lust and sat on the river banks with picnic baskets to watch the monks glide in on their barge. It quite ruined the mood. (No, I did not make that up!)

Dashwood created a new meeting place by digging an enormous maze of caves (in a sexual design) into a chalk hill on his own estate, West Wycombe Park. It gave Dashwood the opportunity to employ his fertile imagination in freshly pornographic ways.

Nitrous oxide parties were indeed trendy in some circles during this period. Many thanks to my friend Linda Moore Lambert for providing me with a copy of "A Dissertation on the Chymical Properties and Exhilarating Effect of Nitrous Oxide Gas," written by a medical student in Philadelphia in 1808. His experiments were performed on himself, and he seems to have had quite a jolly time of it. (Getting high for course credit! Even in Berkeley, they didn't do that.)