Gallant Scoundrel (3 page)

Harry supposed he could not deny that. “And you conclude that the male sex as a whole is responsible for this widespread injustice?”

“Who else? ’Tis they who wrote the laws that ensure they hold all the power, despite being so very prone to corruption by it.” She shook her head in resigned disgust. “In all my travels, I have encountered a disappointingly small handful of men, other than my father, worthy of my respect or trust.”

Harry made no further attempt to argue with her but silently resolved to someday be numbered among that handful.

A
S
THE
45th and other regiments under General Wellesley’s command marched eastward across Portugal toward Spain, Harry’s persistence with Xena Maxwell paid off. What had begun as a case of mistaken identity eventually progressed to friendship…and more.

One evening the two of them happened to be alone in the tent Xena shared with her father and
ayah
. A rare occurrence, but her Indian servant was off washing their linens in a nearby stream when Colonel Maxwell was unexpectedly summoned to meet with two regimental commanders sent over by General Wellesley to discuss tactics for an upcoming battle. As Harry had not been asked to leave, they continued their discussion of Shakespeare’s sonnets.

“Surely you must wonder what all the fuss is about?” Harry teased when she expressed disdain for the very concept of romantic love. “Aren’t you curious to know what might inspire a person to write such poetry or even go to war, as Paris and Menelaus did over Helen?” He had discovered that references to ancient classics generally kept her talking.

“Lust, I presume.
That
obviously exists, if only to ensure the continuation of the human race—and appears to be the cause of many regrettable decisions. I can’t imagine why so many wish to elevate it with the name of
love
and hold it up as a pure and elevating passion to be sought above all others.” She shook her head with a smile.
 

Harry smiled back, holding her gaze with his. “Very well, call it lust, if you prefer. Have you no wish to experience it for yourself, if only in the name of research?”

One eyebrow went up and for a moment he feared he’d been too bold—but then Xena laughed, throwing her head back and giving him a delicious view of her lovely white throat above the collar of her frumpy gray work dress.
 

“From what I’ve read—and witnessed—lust is an affliction far more common to men than to women.” She then stunned him by adding, “But never let it be said that I am less than thorough in my research. If it is indeed possible for a woman to feel lust, I should like to experience it first hand. You seem knowledgable about such things, Lieutenant. You may
attempt
to inspire lust in me. What is the first step?”

Heart hammering, knowing he might never again have an opportunity like this, Harry moved to sit next to her on her father’s trunk.
 

“This.” Slowly, softly, so as not to alarm her, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers.
 

She did not resist, but nor did she respond. For several seconds he maintained a light pressure, then drew back slightly to examine its effect upon her.

Xena quirked a shapely eyebrow. “I have
seen
kisses before, Mr. Thatcher. That scarcely qualified, unless you meant to show me how you might bid goodnight to a child.”

Harry grinned. “I didn’t wish to frighten you.”

Again, she laughed. “You have yet to frighten me in the least, Lieutenant, even when menacing me with a weapon rather more lethal than your lips.”

“Will you allow me to try again?”

She nodded, her expression both skeptical and amused.

Daring all, he put both arms around her and drew her to him for the kind of kiss he’d dreamed of for the past several weeks. “For a kiss to
qualify
,” he murmured, “it must be mutual.”
 

Xena responded with a tiny, uncertain nod and he covered her mouth with his. She stiffened for an instant, but before he could release her with an apology, she put her hands on his shoulders to pull him closer. Hesitantly, experimentally, her lips began to move under his, causing a desire beyond anything he’d ever experienced to rocket through him.
 

Fighting the impulse to deepen the kiss, Harry held himself back, allowing her to explore this new sensation. Finally, cautiously, he moved his own lips, parting them, touching his tongue to the corners of her mouth. Instead of stiffening again as he’d half feared, she mimicked his motions with her own tongue until his and hers entwined.

Tightening their embrace, he probed the sweetness of her mouth while his hands savored the curve of her back. She made a slight sound of pleasure, deep in her throat, then deepened the kiss further herself, her hands now moving over his shoulders, his sides, his back. Fire bursts seemed to explode in his brain, his loins. Even when he’d lain with a woman, he’d never experienced such bliss.
 

He was reaching up to undo the top button of her gown when sanity abruptly returned. Belatedly recalling that someone might appear at the flap of the tent at any moment, he forced himself to draw back.

She stared at him, her face slightly flushed, her gray eyes wide. “What…interesting sensations. So that is what a real kiss is like? A normal kiss between a man and a woman? I had no idea.”

Harry nearly blurted out that there had been nothing the least bit
normal
about that kiss, at least not in his own, admittedly limited, experience. Uncertain whether she had been as profoundly affected as himself, however, he simply nodded.
 

A smile now played at the corners of her delicious mouth. “I believe I begin to understand what all the fuss is about. And kissing is only the start, is it not?”

“Er, yes,” he said cautiously. “But a nice start, don’t you think?”

“Much nicer than I expected,” she admitted. “Indeed, it was quite enjoyable. I rather think I should experience everything else that occurs between a man and a women. For
research
purposes, of course.”

Startled and gratified, Harry returned her mischievous grin. “Of course. But…this is perhaps not the best time and place to continue. Your
ayah
will be returning soon, will she not?”

“Oh. Yes. I’d nearly forgotten.” Xena blinked and glanced around the tent. Though larger than most other officers’ tents, it was far too small to afford any more privacy than the cloth that had been hung to screen Xena’s cot from her father’s.
 

She thoughtfully furrowed her brow. “To avoid any risk of being pressured to a commitment neither of us desires, we’d best be discreet—something I’m certain we can manage with a bit of imagination. And then…” Her smile made his pulse, which had barely begun to slow, accelerate again. “Then we can continue my
research.
”

And so they did. As the regiment advanced inexorably toward Spain, where General Wellesley planned to engage Napoleon’s forces sweeping down from the North, Xena proved her cleverness was not limited to ancient texts and healing. With admirable ingenuity, she created frequent opportunities to be alone with Harry so that he could continue educating her in the ways of love.

“I begin to understand how lust might possibly cloud the judgment of women as well as men,” she observed during a stolen moment when he was allegedly helping her to gather local herbs for use in the surgery.
 

He smiled, caressing her bottom through the fabric of her dress as he pulled her closer. “You find this sensation pleasant, then?”
 

“Indeed. Does my touch inspire lust in you as well?” As she spoke, she ran both hands along his sides.
 

His arousal pressed against her stomach. “Can you not tell?”
 

In response, she slipped a hand between them to feel it through his breeches. He nearly gasped aloud with pleasure, then retaliated by doing the same, massaging the juncture of her thighs through her skirts.

“Oh, my,” she exclaimed, pressing herself more firmly against his hand, then startled him by adding, “’Tis a shame we cannot dispense with the encumbrance of clothing, for I should rather like to experience more of this sensation.”
 

He chuckled at her naiveté. “A shame indeed. But perhaps as well, for if I were to show you all I wish to, we could indeed find ourselves obliged to wed.”

She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Because I might become pregnant, you mean?”

Surprised yet again by her plainspokenness, he nodded. “There is also the risk that our, ah, lust might develop into something more profound, breaking down
our
resistance to such an outcome.” In truth, his own initially-voiced disinterest in marriage had changed some days ago.
 

Xena, however, laughed. “Small chance of that, given our mutual feelings toward matrimony. And as for the other, a Persian wise-woman shared with me some secrets to prevent conception. The main challenge will be to find a safe venue. Meanwhile, I suppose I must be content with this.” Again pressing close, she lifted her lips to his for another kiss.
 

After two more days marching, the regiment was again encamped when Harry found a small, folded slip of paper in his mess kit one morning. Curious, he unfolded it.
One hour past sunset. Thicket near largest chestnut.
He recognized Xena’s hand, distinctively clear and bold for a woman’s, from the various transcripts and translations he’d seen in her tent.

That day seemed to move with preternatural slowness. With every passing hour, Harry feared some order might arrive that would send him away from the camp before sunset. When the appointed time finally approached, he could scarce contain his eagerness.
 

Already he’d made certain to mark the chestnut tree she’d mentioned, some hundred yards beyond the boundary of the camp on the edge of a steep riverbank. Passing rows of tents, he heard the beginnings of the usual evening revelry now all the men had finished their sparse evening meal. Even so, he moved casually but with purpose, as though going to answer a call of nature—which, in a sense, he was.

On reaching the thicket of tall ferns between tree and riverbank he slowed, listening. “Xena?” he whispered, when he heard nothing but the river below. No answer.

A knot of disappointment settled in his stomach. She must not have managed to slip away after all. Still, he moved into ferns nearly as high as his head and sat down, unwilling to give up so easily—and not two minutes later heard soft footfalls drawing near. Peering between the fronds, he saw Xena hurrying toward him, something bulky in her arms. Disappointment instantly gave way to elation.
 

“Over here,” he called softly when she paused to glance about.
 

Immediately she plunged into the ferns and an instant later was beside him. “My apologies. I meant to be here before you, but Yamini—my
ayah
—asked rather more questions about my supposed errand than I expected. She knows me well and is far more difficult to deceive than my father. Indeed, I believe she may already suspect. I dare not stay out more than half an hour, lest she come hunting for me. Here.”
 

She handed him her burden, which proved to be one of the rough wool blankets from the surgery tent. Harry quickly spread it upon the ground. As she settled down next to him, his heart began to hammer with anticipation.
 

“Have you something in particular in mind for tonight’s research?” He tried to keep his tone light, but feared he failed at that.

Xena smiled up at him through the near-darkness. “I thought we might begin with a review of my lessons thus far and, ah, proceed from there.”

Chuckling, he drew her into the circle of his arms. “A most logical plan.” He lowered his lips to hers and she responded instantly—and eagerly. Her lips were warm, pliable and delicious, causing pleasure to spin dizzily through him. Long, blissful minutes passed before they finally paused for breath.

More profoundly affected than ever, Harry longed to know whether she felt the same.
 

“Surely every kiss cannot be like the ones we’ve shared thus far, or I can’t conceive why men and women would ever do aught else,” she breathed wonderingly before he could think how to ask.

He smiled, when elation made him want to shout for joy. “I fear I am not the expert you have assumed, but judging by what little experience I have had, I should say no—every kiss is by no means like this.” He again covered her lips with his own and again she participated wholeheartedly.

Desire built within him to a fever pitch—and now there was little risk of interruption. He fumbled with the buttons of her gown, aching to touch her flesh, and she made no move to stop him. Soon the front of her drab work dress parted far enough to allow his hand access and he discovered with an exultant shock that she wore no chemise beneath it. Gently, he cupped his hand over one small, taut breast.

Xena gave a little gasp and he froze. “That…that feels wonderful. Pray don’t stop!” She quickly undid the rest of her buttons, freeing both breasts. Lowering his head, he tentatively took one into his mouth while continuing to massage the other. “Oh. Yes,” she breathed. “More, please.”

Obligingly, Harry reached under her skirts to slide a hand up her inner thigh until he touched the soft curls at the top, then delved a finger into her already-moist cleft. Now she gasped more loudly.
 

“I…I had no idea.” One hand ceased stroking his back, instead moving to cover his bulging arousal. “This means you wish for more too, does it not?”

“Of course,” he fairly panted. “But surely you don’t wish to risk—”

She leaned up to kiss him. “Pray do not worry I mean to trap you into marriage, Lieutenant. I have taken steps to be certain we’ll face no unwanted consequences. Now, I believe I mentioned I haven’t much time?” So saying, she began unbuttoning the front of his breeches.