Educating Elizabeth (26 page)

She managed to smile. "The room is perfect. I will enjoy sleeping here."

He crossed the space between them in three easy strides and pulled her against him. "You will not be sleeping here. You will be in my bed and you will not be sleeping much there either."

She slid her hands up his arms and locked them around his neck as he drew her into a kiss that seemed destined to last for the rest of the night. She responded to him as eagerly as she imagined the previous occupants of this room had reacted to the other magnificently endowed members of the Diable Delamere male line.

"We will dine first, and then retire to bed," he ordered with a smile. "I'm quite certain you will wish to have an early night."

*** *** ***

Gervase awoke with a start as the hoot of an owl echoed across the silent sky. He turned his head on the pillow and gazed at Elizabeth, who lay curled against his side, one hand across his chest, the other trapped below his hip. The moonlight brought out the hidden glint of gold in her brown, curling hair and gilded her lips with silver.

He let out a long, slow breath and slid his hand up to her bare shoulder. She smiled in her sleep and moved closer, her nose nuzzling the crisp black hairs on his chest. The owl had woken him in the middle of a dream and he could still recall the textures and scents of it. He had been at peace, holding his son in his arms as he slept.

He swallowed hard at the vivid image and braced himself against the pain he knew would follow. Elizabeth murmured something soothing against his flesh as though even in her sleep she could sense his tension.

Minutes ticked by, counted by the clock on the mantelpiece. Gervase let out a wary breath as his grief flowed outwards, through Elizabeth, instead of settling like a clenched fist in his gut.

He studied her quiet, unremarkable features with close attention. Sleeping with her in the same bed had turned out to be everything he had hoped for. In the quiet of the night, he could even admit that she brought him peace. Even as he acknowledged it and firmly shoved the thought away, his body came to shocking life. He knew that he had to possess her, had to imprint himself on her until she no longer wished to leave him.

Without further thought, he rolled her onto her back and crawled on top of her, the urge to join with her so acute that he couldn't stand to wait for another second. He nudged her knees apart with his thigh. As she started to wake up, he drove forward until his cock was buried as deeply as he could manage. He waited until she adjusted to his throbbing presence and her heartbeat and breathing mirrored his.

To his relief, she didn't protest his indecent haste. She drew her legs up higher to allow him deeper penetration and clung to his hips. With a growl, he took all she offered and demanded more, his tempo fast, his thrusts pressing her down into the mattress as he sought to meld himself with her, to take what she sheltered within her, to join himself with her inner peace.

He increased his pace and she began to pant, his hips pumping, his breath harsh against her skin. She opened her eyes and stared into his intent face as he drew back a little and braced his hands on either side of her hips. She gasped when he slid her legs up his arms and over his shoulders, opening her wide to him as he continued to thrust. She closed her eyes and reached for his muscled forearms. Her feeling spiraled and tightened and she no longer cared what he did to her as long as he never stopped doing it. Pleasure crashed over her and her body jerked upwards to slam against his while he pounded into her.

He groaned deep in his throat when she tightened around him until he could no longer breathe, no longer see. He thrust forward one last time and then followed her into the valley of pleasure they created together and wallowed in it, luxuriated in it, loved it.

He had no words to give her for waking her so abruptly and for once she didn't ask for any. He rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him and shut his eyes as the sense of completeness and peace she brought with her saturated and surrounded him.

Elizabeth opened one eye as the door snapped shut behind the fluttering apron ribbons of one of the maids. She licked her lips as the fragrant aroma of breakfast tantalized her senses.

A shadow loomed over her and the duke dropped a Chinese silk dressing gown onto her pillow. He wore a similar robe of black silk embroidered with silver dragons.

She shrugged into the robe and pulled her tangled hair over one shoulder as the duke beckoned her toward a table crammed with covered silver dishes. With a greedy moan she knelt and began to load her plate with the crisp delicacies. After she quieted her worst hunger pangs, she turned to the duke, who sat at his ease in a chair beside her.

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to order something else for you, my dear? A plum pudding or something more substantial? I would hate for you to go into a decline."

She pretended to frown as she poured him a cup of coffee and then sipped at her own. "Thank you for the offer, but there is still some toast and preserves to finish."

The duke leaned forward, snagged a piece of toast and waved it in front of Elizabeth's nose. "Would you like me to butter it for you?"

He leaned across her and picked up the silver tray that contained the condiments. His hand hovered over a pot of strawberry jam and then alighted on the honey. He cast a speculative glance back at Elizabeth. "Do you like honey,
ma belle
?"

Elizabeth nodded as he straightened and began to butter the toast. After a moment he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. He placed the piece of toast on her open palm and Elizabeth watched in fascination as he dug the silver spoon into the pot, held the spoon high in the air and then tilted it. Elizabeth gasped as a gilded stream of honey descended like a silken spider web. She frantically tried to maneuver the piece of toast into the correct position to avoid having a lapful of honey.

The duke gave a soft laugh as he watched her attempts and her cry of triumph when she finally bit into the overflowing piece of toast. He waited until she devoured the last particle and then opened the honey pot again.

She stilled as he held up the spoon and smiled into her eyes. "Shall we try it without the toast? I'm quite willing to lick up any spillage."

As the first sticky droplets attached themselves to her bare skin and slid between her breasts, Elizabeth gave a sigh and relaxed against the duke's broad shoulders. It would be a shocking waste of honey if she didn't allow him to lick it off her. Her eyes closed as his mouth slid down the column of her throat and headed for her breasts. And if she felt peckish herself, she was sure the duke would allow her to dribble some honey over him as well.

*** *** ***

After bathing, the duke excused himself to consult with his steward and left Elizabeth to wander the extensive gardens at her leisure. When she came upon a yellow painted door that led into a high brick-walled section of the garden, she couldn't resist opening it. A lone gardener stood hoeing a row of carrots with steady, slow grace whilst the fragrance of herbs and flowers rose into the warm scented air.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and inhaled the mingling bouquet of smells. She recognized mint and lavender and the rusty smell of recently watered geraniums. She took off her bonnet and lifted her face to the sun as a sense of peace surrounded her.

"Good morning, miss." She opened her eyes to see the gardener in front of her. His face was as gnarled as tree bark and his eyes were a sharp, spring blue. "Did you come down with the duke, then?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, indeed and I was just admiring this beautiful kitchen garden. Do you see to its upkeep yourself?"

"Aye, I do. I'm not as sprightly as the rest of the gardeners and I'm quite content with my little patch." He took off his misshapen hat and scratched his head. "It's grand that you managed to persuade the lad to come back. From what I hear he's likely to kill himself up in that ungodly city."

Elizabeth tried not to smile as she imagined the duke as a boy. "You mistake my influence. In truth, I didn't even know the house existed until I arrived at the gates."

The old man nodded. "And that's just as it should be. Every man needs somewhere private to call home, especially the master." His blue eyes twinkled. "But I wouldn't be questioning your power over him, my girl. You're the first lady he's ever brought here since his wife died. The female staff are all in a twitter over it."

Elizabeth blushed and looked down at her serviceable boots, suddenly afraid to meet his gaze. A posy of flowers appeared under her nose and she laughed in delight.

"These are for you miss, for making the master smile again."

Elizabeth buried her nose in the fragrant blooms. "Thank you. I will try to make the duke smile more often." After another wave of thanks, she picked up her skirts and headed for the kitchens, her mind busy with the gardener's intriguing remarks.

*** *** ***

"I thought you might like to stroll with me in the family portrait gallery."

Later that evening, Elizabeth smiled up at the duke as he draped her paisley shawl around her shoulders. She shivered as her skin heated and leaned back against his chest. He made a satisfied sound and ran his fingertip along the edge of her bodice. Her nipples obligingly peaked as though begging for his touch.

When they reached the cavernous entrance hall, the duke paused to speak to his butler and then picked up a candelabrum and led her through a series of grand withdrawing rooms until they reached a set of double doors. The fading sunlight struggled to penetrate the irregular diamond-shaped windowpanes that adorned the rear of the house.

The duke struck a flint and lit the candles. Light flared in the darkness, illuminating his face. "The gallery runs the length of the east wing."

He gestured for Elizabeth to precede him into the room. Someone had obviously been in before them. The shutters were open and the thick, velvet curtains drawn back to reveal the floor-length windows. Wall sconces were lit at strategic intervals along the long gallery, bathing the walls in a soft, welcoming glow.

Elizabeth paused to appreciate the view. The room had a high ceiling decorated in ivory and gold. Rose-patterned white silk brocade covered the walls and the carpet was an indistinct swirl of gold and blue. Elizabeth drew her shawl around her shoulders as the duke came up alongside her.

"It is a beautiful room." She hesitated as he set the candles down on a small table. "But don't you think it would be better to wait until the morning? I fear I will not be able to distinguish the pictures very clearly."

"Unfortunately, we will not have time in the morning. I've always found that seeing the pictures in the twilight makes me concentrate on the details more carefully."

Elizabeth moved toward the first picture on the left. "This must be one of the oldest in your collection."

The duke came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. "Yes, this is the first Gervase. He made his fortune fighting with the usurper Henry Tudor at the battle of Bosworth."

Elizabeth leaned closer to inspect the features of the man in the portrait as the duke trailed his fingertips up and down her bare arms. She shivered as he pressed closer and tried to read the signature scrawled in the corner of the portrait. "It is a Holbein." She turned to stare into the duke's amused face. "I've never seen a picture of his held in a private collection before."

He placed her hand on his arm and drew her toward the next portrait, which depicted a family group. "This is his wife, Matilda and their seven children."

Elizabeth laughed and her shawl slithered down her arms and fell to the floor. "Matilda doesn't look very happy, does she? But I should imagine that having seven children would make most women miserable."

The duke bent to pick up her shawl. His dark hair gleamed in the candlelight and Elizabeth resisted an urge to run her fingers through it. He rearranged the shawl around her shoulders and then turned her to face him. She swallowed hard as he proceeded to tie the fringed ends into a bow, which sat just below her bodice. As he worked, his fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts.

He turned her back to face the portrait and kept his hands on her bare shoulders. His warm breath tickled the curling hairs at the nape of her neck. "I understand from the family records that poor Matilda bore fifteen children to the first Gervase. She was lucky so many of them survived."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "Now I feel badly about saying she looked sad. She has every reason to be."

The duke placed his hand in the small of her back and directed her toward the next portrait. "What do you think of this one?"

Elizabeth got as close as she could to the small portrait of a lady astride her horse, her flaming red hair streaming down her back, her expression one of challenge. "She seems a little unusual for her time. Modest women were supposed to keep their hair covered unless they were maidens." She examined the portrait again. "But this lady doesn't look like a maiden. She is far too...worldly."

"This is the Lady Marguerite de Villas. She was Gervase's mistress for most of her life."

Elizabeth snorted. "How did he find the time to have a mistress when he was busy begetting fifteen children on his poor wife?"

The duke's mouth quirked and he bent to plant a kiss on her lips. "My family has always displayed remarkable stamina when it comes to finding and keeping women." He kissed her again, this time allowing his tongue to dip into her mouth. "You of all people should know whether my family's reputation is well earned."

He continued to kiss her until her arms twined around his neck and she leaned against him. With a satisfied murmur, he took her hand to lead her to the next picture. He brought the candelabra closer. "This is the first Gervase's oldest surviving son. It was he who began to build this house."

Elizabeth angled her head to one side to observe the smug face of the second Gervase. He sat in a high-backed chair, two hunting dogs at his booted feet. His outstretched hand pointed imperiously to a map of the New World on the right of the picture. Elizabeth frowned as she tried to make out the details of the map.