Taming Maria (23 page)

Closing the
telescope Charles left the hideout, picking up Quint on the way so
they could compare notes on what they had discovered that morning.
Information had come in about a sailing boat expected to land by
night very soon. They needed to be extra vigilant.

'Go and find
Maria,' Jane insisted, clasped tightly in Robin's arms at the end
of the garden. It was dark, and her attendants were asleep. She had
slipped out in her nightgown and over-robe.

Robin had
appeared from the shadows and she had been able to do nothing but
yield to his kisses and ardent caresses. This joy was so new to
her, every aspect of lovemaking thrilling her to the marrow, the
secrecy, the fact that it was forbidden, all adding to her
excitement.

He had refused
to talk of anything sensible, and she felt his body heat through
her thin attire, nipples peaking and pubis lifted to contact his
bulge. The leaves were thick, hiding them from sight, and the only
sound was the rustle of night hunting creatures. The hazardous
nature of their meeting added an extra spark. It was a hurried
mating, with her pressed against a tree-bole and him lifting her,
hands clasped about her bare bottom, as he slid his erection into
her. She raised herself up and down on his penis and then, unable
to make contact with her clitoris, pushed a hand between them and
massaged it, reaching a speedy climax. He groaned and jerked and
discharged. Jane felt it, warm and wet inside her. Then he gently
lowered her till her feet touched the ground.

'Will you go
seek Maria?' she said. 'You've told me that it will cost a great
deal for us to take the stagecoach to Scotland and Gretna Green. I
have no money and neither have you; only the stipend your father
gives you. Maria may be able to assist us.'

'It shames me
to ask her, but there is little alternative. Where is she?' He
stroked Jane's hair.

'At the
viscount's home in Dorset. It is called Raven Towers, near the
fishing village of Parnham Combe.' Jane rested her head on his
chest and listened to the beat of his heart and felt quite sick
with love. 'You must get in touch with her somehow and meet her
secretly. No one knows you there, do they? You haven't met the
viscount?'

'I've seen her
maidservant and the chaperone, but only briefly. Leave it to me,
darling. I'll do anything as long as we can be together
eventually.'

'I must go
before I'm discovered.' She broke away from him, though it was hard
to do. Her thighs were wet with his tribute and her own juice. It
seemed so natural and she longed for the time when they could sleep
in each other's arms.

He kissed her
once more, and then disappeared into the darkness. Jane slipped
back to the house, tears coursing down her face. Why did love hurt?
she wondered. Yet she would not have missed such an experience for
the world. She did not doubt that Maria would come to their aid,
were it humanly possible. She added these comments to her journal,
though half afraid to write in it these days, lest it be discovered
and herself compromised.

'This
resembles a sultan's harem,' Arabella remarked, reclining on a
divan in Damien's apartment.

'Have you ever
been in one, my dear?' He lifted the mouthpiece of the hookah from
his lips to reply. The rosewater in the bowl bubbled and the air
was scented with herbs.

'No, but I've
seen paintings and it looks most frightfully exotic.' She gave him
an alluring glance from under heavy-lidded eyes. It was early
evening and the ambience was that of lazing and lovemaking, reading
poetry, smoking opium and whiling away the time.

In other
circumstances he would have been happy to oblige, but he had
important issues enquiring urgent attention. He rose, set aside the
pipe and leaned over her. 'You will have to amuse yourself with
someone else,' he said flatly. 'I'm busy.'

'How boring,'
she pouted, silk robe outlining her limbs. Lifting her skirt she
played with the gold rings in her labia. 'Have that young groom
sent up. You know, the one who is caring for my horse that's gone
lame. I think his name is Thomas. These country lads can be a
pleasant diversion. They are so strong, and simple in their needs.
It is amusing to teach them the refinements of fucking. Most of
them don't know where a woman's pleasure spot lies.'

He slapped her
backside. 'You have all the instincts of a strumpet!'

'I know. Isn't
it fun?'

'Where's
Maria?' His brows swooped down as he thought of her. She had not
yet become entirely submissive. There was a haughty part of her
that still defied him.

'In the
conservatory, I think, with her chaperone.'

'Best place
for her,' he grunted, picking up his hat and riding crop. 'I shall
be out for a while and will see you later.'

'Another
woman?'

'Mind your own
business.'

'Very well,
but don't forget to send Thomas to me.'

'I won't.
Don't exhaust the poor lad, he'll be needed in the stable
later.'

Sarah Jenkins
was asleep. Maria watched her nodding off from where she sat,
sketchbook and pencils to hand. It was warm, one of those days that
summer drops into the lap of autumn. She had been there all
afternoon with Emily in attendance.

Maria had
learned to draw at school. It was considered a suitable
accomplishment for a young lady, like playing the pianoforte,
singing or needlework. Nothing too strenuous and all very proper.
It was supposed to impress prospective bridegrooms. Maria was
restless. She flung down the pencil and laid aside the pad. Emily
looked up from her sewing.

'Milady?'

'I shall die
if I have to stay here much longer. I need to get out... ride my
mare... anything but sit here.'

'But it will
be dusk soon.'

'So much the
better.'

'Very well.
I'll wake Mrs Jenkins.'

Maria went to
her bedroom, changing into her riding habit. Sarah was too drowsy
to argue and Emily ran to the stable and ordered Tranter to saddle
the mare. Their affair was still going strong and Maria found her
an able ally, ready to collude in any scheme she wanted to put into
operation. Agatha was mostly engaged elsewhere, obeying Damien and
keeping the servants under control. Maria was called to her aunt's
room whenever Russell arrived, combining hairdressing and the
offices of barber at one and the same time. Arabella's pubis was
regularly shaved, and Maria was expected to keep hers equally
smooth.

Tranter was in
the stable and the mare was ready. 'The viscount left not long
ago,' he said. 'You should be able to catch up with him.'

'In which
direction?' she asked as he bent, cupped his hands to receive her
foot, then hoisted her into the saddle.

'Past the
spinney and headed towards the ruined chapel. Shall I come with
you, miss?'

'No,' she
flung back over her shoulder, already trotting from the stable.

Darkness was
deepening, a soft velvety darkness made up of trees and the
breathing earth. Maria glimpsed the moon, which she likened to an
empress driving her chariot across the star-spangled sky. She rode
towards the spinney, listening for the sound of hoof-beats. They
came, but far ahead of her. She clicked her tongue and the mare
moved off again.

She passed
Scratch Tump, tingling as she remembered Damien punishing her and
then taking her. Perhaps, if she caught up with him, he might do
something similar amidst the ruins of the chapel. She admitted it
was this ache in her loins that had prompted her to take a ride.
Since experiencing sexual intercourse she was no longer content
with pleasuring herself, and doubted that even Jane would be able
to satisfy her. She needed a lusty cock inside her.

'Come on,
girl,' she said to the mare, whose ears twitched in response.

It was a very
different aspect to the one seen in daylight. An alien landscape
filled with indistinct shapes and eerie sounds. She understood why
the villagers kept away between dusk and dawn. It was even darker
when she reached the woods and she almost gave up and returned to
the house. Then a sound ahead drew her on. If she could find Damien
her journey would not have been wasted. There were many things
about him that mystified her and she wanted to know more.

The trees
thinned and she entered a glade, seeing the outline of broken
walls, then she nearly died of fright as an owl suddenly swooped
past, hooting, disturbed by a party of men who now approached the
ruin. The light of a single lamp fell on Damien's face.

Quieting the
mare and hardly daring to breathe, Maria hid among the trees. The
men disappeared through the chapel entrance and she dropped from
the saddle and tied the rein to a branch. Skirting the edge of the
clearing and keeping to the shadows she slipped across the
threshold. Moonlight pierced the centre of the church were once
there had been a roof.

Damien and the
other men were gathered there, deep in conversation. Maria crept
closer.

'I need to
check on the crypt,' growled one, who seemed to be the ringleader.
He had a black-stubbled jaw, a slouch hat that partly obscured his
face, and a long ragged coat. 'Haven't been down there since the
last shipment.'

'It went well,
Towser. No hitches and the cargo slipped away across country to
London, Bristol and Taunton.' Damien was at his most haughty.

'A fine load,
to be sure. I like giving the coastguards a run for their money.
And when shall we be paid?' Towser's eyes flashed and he flexed his
hands.

'Same as
before. After the job is done.' Damien gave a slow, menacing smile.
'Have no thought of betrayal or it will be the worse for you. I
have friends who are magistrates and will see to it that they catch
you and hang you high. I'll even enjoy watching you swing.'

'And I could
squeal on you, my lord,' Towser threatened, and his companions
muttered and rattled their weapons.

'You won't.
Not while you're making money. This may be the last venture for a
while. We don't want the authorities getting suspicious.'

'Then it'll be
back to smuggling tobacco, wine and silk,' Towser grunted. 'Not
Frenchies who are spies, eh?'

'Don't tell me
you're developing a conscience?' Damien sneered.

'No need to
take that tone, cully. Your word's good enough for me. If you say
you're going to pay us, then pay us you will.'

'You accept
the word of a gentleman? What a buffle-headed clown to be sure.'
This came from a man who was wearing soldierly gear. He had a sword
at his hip and a pistol stuck in his belt. A cocked hat was tucked
under one arm and his hair was plaited, like a hussar's.

Maria knew
that if she was discovered her chances of survival were slim. These
men were utterly ruthless, including Damien. Traitors to their
country? She could well believe it.

'You trust no
one because no one trusts you, Captain Chesney. I believe that's
what you call yourself, though I swear you're no more an officer
than I'm a Dutchman.' Not for an instant did Damien lose control of
the smugglers and Maria was forced to admire him.

'We're in this
together, and you'd best not forget it,' Chesney growled, a
chilling smile lifting the scar at the side of his mouth. 'Birds of
a feather, my lord. We'd sell our own grandmothers for a penny.
Gent you may be, but you're one of us at heart.'

Damien did not
reply. He picked up the lantern, walked to a door and produced an
iron key. There was a grinding clunk and then the hinges squealed
as he pushed it open. The men crowded behind him and disappeared
inside. Maria gave them a moment, then followed.

Her heart was
pounding so hard she feared they might hear it, but they had
already gone down the steps that wound below ground. Holding her
skirt about her so it would not rustle, she began to descend. The
steps were slippery and the walls encrusted with lichen, and there
was that musty smell of a place that has been shut away from air
and sunshine.

Maria stopped
when she reached the bottom, hidden behind a buttress. Stone tombs
occupied the centre of the crypt. Some of them were draped in
mouldy pennants. Damien's henchmen glanced round uneasily.

'This is a
cheerless place,' Chesney remarked, gripping the hilt of his
sword.

Towser
brazened it out. 'What are you afraid of, cap'n? Ghouls and
ghosties?' He gave a loud laugh that bounced back from the
walls.

Damien ignored
them, went to one of the tombs and heaved at the heavy lid. It slid
back revealing a dark aperture. The men gathered round, familiar
with the secret passage. 'This is damned useful,' Towser commented.
'Wish I'd known about it years back. Would have made my life a
bloody sight easier, bringing goods up this way from the cove.'

'Not without
my permission,' Damien reminded. 'It's my property. Remember?'

'You're a cool
customer, my lord.' Chesney looked at him with reluctant
admiration. 'Betraying your country without a bat of the
eyelid.'

Maria was
finding it difficult to accept that Damien organised the entrance
of spies into England and helped them to leave once their work was
done. For this he must be receiving a large sum of money from the
French. By now she had learned that he loved money and power above
all else, but even so, his betrayal was hard to believe.

He disappeared
into the tomb with the others following. They took the light with
them and Maria fumbled her way back to where she had left her mare.
Just as she got there she was seized from behind and a hand clapped
over her mouth.

'Don't make a
sound!' growled a masculine voice.

'Oh my God!
Charles!'

It really was
him holding her. Incredible, wonderful, true! Maria didn't know
whether to faint, burst into tears or both.