SoundsofLove (24 page)

“Well, she says she can judge the success of her novel by
the depth of the sigh I give at the end of the first reading.” He pulled the
thick volume off the shelf and handed it down to Julian, who took it with a
swell of pride. “I much prefer my own company when I read novels filled with
intrigue and frivolity. If I learn something in the process, that’s a bonus.”

“I chose to translate Aristophanes because of his comedic
aspects, and Giles said I had a smile on my face all the time I worked on it.”

“Then you should do more.” He climbed down and joined
Julian. “The same can be said of music. A German opera can depress my spirits
for days, but a Mozart concerto will bring a smile as I hum in my bath.”

“Quite true, old man. I resolve to pay attention to what I
feed my soul, and to keep Cathryn’s spirits light as well. Life has more than
its share of tragedy, why seek it in one’s leisure?”

“Quite. I often wondered the same thing. Laughter is one of
the best ways to stay together through the rough times, and surviving life’s
many trials together makes the good times all the sweeter.”

“You’re very wise, Charles. Cathryn and I have survived more
than our share of trials already, and I suspect we’ve just begun.” Julian
glanced at the other men, who were rising slowly from their seats. “Any other
nuggets before we join the ladies?”

“Just one. Accept her as she is, but work to improve your
own character. That helps during the tough times, as well.” Charles faced away
from the other men and dropped his voice. “Fiona takes you back to your
childhood, and she brings out the worst in you sometimes. I’ve seen it, even if
your father never noticed.”

That stung a bit, but Julian saw the truth in it. He’d drunk
too many bottles in her honor, and fought a dozen fistfights. Those days were
best left in the past.

“I’d keep her away from your bride, as much as possible.”

“We planned to stay the week, and it will be hard to avoid
her. Perhaps we should leave in a few days.”

“That might be wise. You don’t want them getting too cozy.”

“Thanks for the advice, old man. I believe we shall take you
up on your offer and retire early.”

Cathryn and Julian wound their way to their suite of rooms,
and both were done in by the time they finished preparing for bed. Julian
crawled in beside her in the enormous canopy bed, relieved they’d retired
early. All he wanted was to be naked with the woman he was coming to love. “I
can’t fathom my fatigue,” he said as she settled into his side. “it’s barely
ten.”

“You spent the morning at Waterloo,” she teased, stroking
his bare torso, inciting havoc wherever she touched. “And you’re still
recovering—it’s been less than a week.” A small bandage covered the wound,
which barely pained him at all.

“You healed me today, Cathryn, when you returned my
affections.” He kissed her deeply and the flames of desire grew stronger.

“We should sleep, my love.”

“I always have the means to show you the depth of my
devotion.” He stroked her breasts and kissed her again, his erection growing. “Unless
you’re too fatigued.” He hoped not.

Her roaming hands signaled her interest. “I think you will
always be able to capture my attention.”

And she had captured his. He wanted to see her. All of her.

The bedchamber was warm and the covers heavy, but she was
gloriously naked underneath. Dual candles lit her perfect form to artistic
levels. Full breasts he adored already, full thighs he had just begun to
explore. He kissed and suckled both her nipples, kneading her as he savored the
woman he was going to marry. Appreciative moans rewarded him, but curiosity
drove him lower.

He loved looking at a woman’s sex, toying with slick lips,
fingering in preparation for the main event. But now he wanted to taste her and
not just on his fingers. He moved lower on her, kissing her belly until he
reached her navel. She had a perfect shape for him, supple and round, full but
firm. His hand trailed lower, and he gasped as he reached her wetness. He loved
how she felt, how she signaled her desire, how she matched his needs.

She was ready now, and from her moans, she wanted him. He
flicked across her hard nub and her pelvis raised up into his hand, her
whimpers quickly turning into pants. He knew this path—she was close to
completion. “Yes, yes.” Urging him to stay the course. He gladly complied.

His hand was busy, and the reward was quick to come.
Watching her climax in the candlelight, a wave of desire overcame him and he
nudged her knees apart with his. Next time they were together he would taste
her, and take on the happy task his fingers had just accomplished. She was very
responsive. Next time.

“Open for me, my love.”

And she did. Still breathless from her own pleasure, she
spread herself for him. He edged himself inside her tightness, reveling in
every inch achieved. Once inside her, he was driven by a primal force. Strokes
long and hard, then slow and easy. Every tempo had its place in the dance of
love. The perfect woman. The perfect cunt. Perfect.

His climax began at the top of his spine, as if it had
erupted from his brain. Moving its way south, it rattled every bit of him,
until the ultimate explosion within her reached his very core and shook loose
all previous conceptions of intimacy.

This was how it was supposed to be between a man and woman.
He loved her. And she loved him. Every climax was a new bond between them.He
would taste her another time. Soon.

Julian smiled at Cathryn’s lovely form outlined beneath the
blankets. He’d worn her out and she deserved to sleep in. She’d been a tigress
in bed, waking him in the night to appease her own needs, and responding to him
eagerly when he caressed her at dawn. He’d found the perfect mate, and part of
him yearned to snuggle back under the covers and lose himself in her again.

But his rumbling stomach needed attention more than his
loins at the moment. Breakfast at Gorham House was an event, with Charles
holding court over the gentry of the neighborhood while feeding them eggs and
ham. The man had his hand in every pie in the district, offering counsel and
funds for a variety of local projects. Business was conducted from nine to
eleven in the breakfast room, with an elaborate, never-diminishing buffet.

Julian downed a plateful of kippers, sausage and eggs before
entering into the lively conversation about uses for steam engines on farms.

At ten, a note came from Cathryn.

My dear Julian,

I’ll take a tray in our room,
while I read your translations and let my tender muscles rest. Please come for
me when Charles is ready to give us the grand tour.

Your loving Cathryn.

P.S. You are magnificent.

Julian smiled as he tucked the note in his pocket. He would
give her an hour and then ask Charles to give him an hour before the tour. That
would give him time to soothe her tender places, or make her even more tender.
Now that he had a full belly, his own muscle aches were more pronounced. His
lower back, thighs and shoulders all burned from last night’s delightful
exertions. A nap after lunch sounded ideal.

Fiona’s voice broke through his reverie. “Good morning,
gentleman. Have you left any for me?”

He rose with the other men, wondering if Giles had come with
her. She strode through the room in tight-fitting green silk, stopping to lift
the lid on several silver dishes before she headed to Charles’ side. Julian
glanced at the others and saw them all gaping at her. Her pale golden hair hung
loose around her shoulders, a silky veil men found impossible to ignore. She
complained the fine texture would not hold a style properly, but no man ever
objected to her wearing it down. She bussed Charles in the French manner before
turning to Julian.

“Good morning, Lord Ahlquist. Always a pleasure.”

She leaned in and touched her cheek to his, filling his
space with her familiar rose fragrance. The formerly treasured scent cloyed at
him unexpectedly, and he yearned for a cleansing whiff of citrus. “Good
morning, Mrs. Aubrey. You’re early. Did Giles come with you?”

“Yes. He’s waiting in the front hall, cranky as ever. You’d
think I’d asked him to swim the channel for all the grumbling he did.”

“You must have left before dawn.”

“Daybreak. He slept most of the ride.”

Giles’ sciatica must be acting up, and the pain is worst
early in the morning. Best not to leave him standing about, and it gives me an
excuse to return to Cathryn.
“I’ll see you at the midday meal.” He bowed
and left the room, surprisingly eager to leave Fiona’s presence.

Giles slumped in a wingchair just outside the dining room,
positively gray from pain. He grimaced as he started to rise.

“Don’t get up.” Julian crouched to meet the man
face-to-face. “Dear Lord, Giles. You should have stayed in London. I can live
without you for a week.”

“It’s your father, milord.” Giles glanced up at his niece,
who hovered nearby. “His valet sent word that he’s been cleaning his guns and
drinking heavy.”

Damn.

“And he’s been muttering about Mr. Darbonne and Fiona.”

Double damn. Claret, bullets and jealousy made poor
bedfellows. “I should go to him.”

“I’m afraid that might be necessary.”

“Lady Sibley and I shall go at once.” He rose and spoke to
Giles’ niece. “Good morning, Helena. How are you faring this day?”

“Better than uncle, but it was a wicked trip.”

“Wicked?”

“Mrs. Aubrey took the reins herself, milord, two hours out
of London.” Few women could handle a team of four. Julian wasn’t certain it was
even legal.

“Woman drives like the devil’s chasing her.” Giles groaned
as he stood. “I’ll wash up and be ready in half an hour.”

“No. You’ll stay here. I’ll go with Lady Sibley.” Giles
opened his mouth to protest. “I’ll ask Melina to be easy on you.”

“You can take the baths, uncle. That always lessens your pain.”
Helena took his hand protectively.

Giles caved easily, a sure sign he felt as bad as he
appeared. “I’ll stay a day or two.”

“The baths are likely free now.” Julian squeezed his valet’s
shoulder gently. “Stay until you feel fit to travel. I’ll ask George to attend
me in London.”

Five minutes later, Julian opened his suite door to the most
charming scene he had ever witnessed. Cathryn was on a small pedestal wearing
only a white sheet loosely draped, while Melina and a maid fashioned it into a
Greek chiton. Giggles filled the air and Julian caught enticing glimpses of
Cathryn’s full breasts and creamy thighs as the sheet moved.

A surprising pang of jealousy hit him—Melina had seen
Cathryn naked and might desire her.
Well, who wouldn’t? Cathryn is a goddess,
perfect for lovemaking.
The threat was short-lived, as the air was redolent
with good humor, not sexual tension. And there was not another man in sight.

“Darling, come in.” Cathryn beckoned when she caught sight
of him. “Melina wants us to read one of your Aristophanes this very evening.”

“I’m determined to ogle your gams.” Melina turned with a
wide grin, and Julian remembered why he kept returning to Gorham House. It was
fun here.

“I could fashion a costume for you,” Cathryn added. “As
modest as you like.”

He hated wearing anything with a skirt—they invariably made
him look foolish, and he would not risk Cathryn losing respect for him. He was
almost relieved to have such a good excuse to refuse. “I’m afraid I need to
return to London this afternoon. My father’s in a bad way.”

“Oh dear. I’ll come with you, of course.”

He would love to have her with him on the ride, but once he
arrived in the city he would have to see to his father, and that could take some
time. And if he went alone, he could take a turn driving the carriage. It
wouldn’t do to have Fiona best him in everything and it had been ages since
he’d managed four horses. “I’ll be occupied with him until he settles down,
love.”

Melina chimed in unasked. “Find him another woman to spend
money on—someone as pretty as Fiona.”

A good thought. Lilith had a comely sister, Agatha, who
might be unattached, or willing to jump ship for a marquis. “You stay here,
Cathryn. I’ll try to be back tomorrow evening.” He glanced at the leather
volume of his translation on a nearby chair. “
Lysistrata
is mostly
female parts and very amusing. I should look forward to returning to its
production.”

* * * * *

Late the next afternoon, Julian perched high above the
ground beside his coachman and held the reins of a fresh team of prime
horseflesh. His hat was in the carriage and the wind in his hair felt glorious
on this unusually warm autumn day. He’d forgotten how exhilarating it was to
handle the leads; the power of the animals was both invigorating and
awe-inspiring.

He was pleased with his handling of the task in London. His
father sobered up for the introduction to Agatha and seemed taken with her.
Julian doubted the two would leave her flat for some days. Darbonne had wisely
left town to visit a cousin, quickly solving the immediate problem.

Now Julian was anxious to arrive at Gorham House in time to
see Cathryn before she changed for dinner. He wanted to be there to help her
into the new lace stockings he’d brought with him from London. He had jewels,
as well, and the thought of Cathryn clad only in the gifts he brought made him
grin in lusty anticipation. After dinner, there would be the play acted out for
his benefit, with the ladies clad only in thin tunics. What an evening it
promised to be.

A lone rider ahead brought his thoughts back to the road,
and the man’s beaver hat and green coat struck a familiar chord. “Damn. It’s
Hedges.” He handed off the reins to Holmes. “Stay close to him.” He reached for
his dagger, but his hand faltered.
You wouldn’t want his death on your
conscience.
A flash of Cathryn’s sweet voice stilled him, and he reached
for the whip instead.

Crack!
The man’s hat flicked off into the shadows of
the ditch, and Hedges turned with astonished eyes. Julian cheered his own
excellent marksmanship, then yelled, “Pull up, we need a word.”
I need to
pummel you with my bare hands.

“Damn you, Ahlquist.” A moment of panic played out on the
man’s scarred face, and Julian turned to watch as his coach passed the slowing
rider. Hedges jerked the reins and his horse reared up awkwardly, far off
balance, knocking Hedges off to the right. A long, loud whinny tore through the
air. Julian stopped breathing as he witnessed the horse landing on the man.
Unable to right itself, the horse fell twice more on the now silent rider.

Julian’s coach came to a halt a hundred feet past the scene,
and he climbed down and ran towards the baron. The panicked horse dove into the
ditch, dragging the tall man whose foot was caught in the right stirrup. A
moment later the bloodied mare lunged up the embankment without her charge.

A footman grabbed the steed, and Julian stood back to allow
him room to calm the horse. Moans from the ditch drew Julian’s attention, and
he slid reluctantly down the slick embankment.

Percival Hedges lay in an awkward position near the bottom
of the gully. The shadows were thick, but Julian gasped at the image. The man’s
legs splayed at odd angles and small pools of blood reflected in the remaining
daylight. It was a gruesome sight, and Julian’s stomach roiled. “Stand back,
Danny,” he called to his footman, a boy of only eighteen.

“Damn you, Ahlquist. You caused my horse to rear. I think he
crushed my legs.”

Hedges’ voice was weak but steady. Julian marveled that he
was alive at all. “I asked you to pull up—you held the reins.” He was not
responsible for the man’s poor horsemanship.

“Damn you to hell.”

Julian was amazed the man could speak so well. He crouched
down beside him and saw the dark welts of Cathryn’s scratches, and a neck wound
that appeared to be festering. “Save your strength. I’ll send my coach for
help.” He’d intended to kill the bastard but not with his staff looking on.

Julian called out directions to his coachman before turning
back to Hedges. “What are you doing on this road?” The carriage pulled away,
leaving him alone with his enemy.

“I have business with your whore.”

He nearly drew his dagger and ended this charade, but pity
trumped anger, and something in the man’s tone stopped him. “I’d kill you for
that, but we both know you won’t make it out of this ditch alive.”

“Did she tell you she shagged the surgeon while my cousin
lay dying in the next room, only three days before his death?”

Julian wanted to choke him, but he let the man have his say.
Nothing was going to save him. “She tells a different version, and I choose to
believe hers.” It was true, his faith in Cathryn was absolute. How like Hedges
to sow discontent at death’s door.

“I nearly tossed her off when I found out, but once I
realized she wasn’t breeding I knew she was sterile.”

Julian did not respond, fighting not to let the statement
take hold. He searched the ground for a grassy place to rest while the man
died. His wound was throbbing like the dickens from handling the horses and
sliding down the hill. He welcomed the distraction from the malicious thoughts
Hedges was tossing about, and he shot back with one of his own. “You seem fond
enough of fine young men, don’t you want an heir?”

His comment missed the mark. “You can’t guarantee a boy, and
the idea of a girl child makes my stomach turn.”

Perhaps he should end this now, he had heard enough.
However, there were a few questions he would like answered. He eased down onto
the damp ground and asked evenly, “Why did you attack Cathryn?”

“She’s my wife.”

He fought to keep his temper in check. “She’s not your wife.”

“The courts say she is.” His voice was weakening. The courts
were irrelevant now.

“Are you baiting me to quicken your death? Because I will
gladly—”

“The
Digenis Acritas
? Were you bluffing?” The words
came out in a rush, as if Hedges had just remembered the question foremost on
his mind.

Julian thought about what his priest would advise in this
situation, and decided the baron was already destined for hell and deserved no
mercy. “The finished translation is in my study.” Julian did own a translation,
although it was in old English. It was a small recompense for all the grief
Hedges had wrought.

Hedges raised his arm a few inches, then it fell with a soft
thud. “Da…” With a gurgling sound coming from his throat as he attempted a
final invective, the thin man’s last breath failed him.

The chill of death now filled the ditch, and Julian shivered
as he rose to climb the embankment.

“It was too good an end for you,” he said as he set himself
to rights. “But I’m glad the deed is done.” He stared down at the broken body
of the man he loathed, wishing the last ten minutes erased from his memory. “She
was never your wife.”

The wind was howling when Julian arrived at Gorham House an
hour later, an eerie reminder of the gruesome scene he’d witnessed. He planned
to sweep Cathryn to their chambers and have a private commemoration of their
vanquished foe’s dire fate. Hedges no longer impeded their union. That deserved
a bottle of champagne and a day in bed.