A Lady Betrayed (15 page)

Perhaps because he seemed more innocent, more vulnerable, even though he was still highly desirable. She stared at his face for a long moment, then shook her head at herself. No, no, this would never do. She was the one who had wagged her finger at her sisters, lecturing about self-control and upholding the family honor.

Not that they had necessarily listened. Lauryn had married too early to have caused any concern. Her sister Juliana had grinned and, aside from some boyish escapades chasing birds or animals on the moors, pretty much stayed on the beaten path. The twins, however; the twins had carved their own paths and seldom were they what one would expect of ladies of quality. In fact, one might as well give up trying.

But now she was the one who had set the whole shire atwitter, and she was sure her sisters would never let her live it down. Nor could she blame them, Maddie thought, her reflections dark.

She tiptoed toward the doorway, then jumped in her turn when she found that the viscount had left the bed and whirled to grab her, lift her nightgown, and pull it over her head—much as she had done for his soaked shirt—and pull it off.

“Adrian, wait!” she tried to object, but her protest was muffled by the cloth that surrounded her face.

Then the material was lifted away, and she found herself wearing only her drawers and a deep blush that spread all the way down her throat.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Pardon me, I would like my nightgown back.” She sounded ridiculously prim.

He didn't seem to hear her. Instead, with the same economy of movement, he lifted her and tossed her lightly onto the bed.

Too startled for an instant to try to scramble off, she lay there and found that he had come right behind her. He put one strong arm across her chest, effectively holding her in place in the center of the bed, and then he kissed her.

Afterwards, she would remember it as
the
kiss.

His lips were so firm and warm and so insistent that she couldn't seem to think of anything except how it brought her whole body to life. She gave up any thought of remonstration. Instead of trying to slide away, she came of her own accord closer to him, pressing her breasts against his chest, her legs closer to his hard thighs. His arm slid to pull her into him, and she put her arms around his neck and clung to him, fears of consequences forgotten.

As before, he tasted of port wine, strong and heady, and his tongue slipped now between her lips and dared her to open further. Maddie thought she might drown in this wine-tasting cloud of unfamiliar sensation, but if Adrian, awake or asleep, wanted her, she would give herself, body and soul, into his keeping and fear nothing…so she opened her lips and allowed him entrance.

The strong thrust of his tongue made her feel as if even her spirit was being consumed, an exhilarating illusion. He pulled her whole body closer, and she almost lost her awareness of where she ended and he began. When he moved to kiss her cheek and her neck and nibble her ear, that, too, sent blood rushing to her head in dizzying spirals until she thought she must soon touch the ceiling.

Hoping to give him some of the same exquisite sensations she was experiencing, she ran her fingers along his naked back. He made a small sound deep in his throat. Encouraged, she did it again, and then moved her hands to his chest, and up his neck, tracing hard ripples of muscle.

Mercy, how strongly forged were his arms, and how she loved to have them wrapped around her. She traced them lovingly, then dropped her hands to his hips, but found she lacked the courage to go lower. He put his hands over hers, and pushed them down, down.

She felt the firm lines of his stomach, the hard muscles there, and then, curling hairs and—she gasped and tried to draw her hand away, but he brought it gently back.

This was his male member. How firm it was, just like the muscles in his arms and chest—and, well, she knew about the animals in the farm…Maddie gave herself a shake. Stop being a ninny, she scolded herself. This would go inside her? She felt another tremor of anticipation or nervousness, she wasn't sure which.

She felt a strange yearning in her body at the thought. Wishing she had had answers from her letters to her sisters, she thought of Felicity's advice. She should follow her instincts, the widow had said. What did her instincts tell her to do now? She put both her hands around his shaft and felt him quiver as she stroked it gently—yes, he liked that—and she stroked his thighs and the soft dark hair around the base; he moved with small thrusts, making deep sounds in his throat.

She hungered for more herself, without knowing just what it was that she wanted. He reached to push the last piece of her clothing down, and she shivered, not from cold because by now they were providing their own heat, but from expectation of the enormous step she was about to take.

Yet she did not wish to stop, either. Every ounce of her body wanted him, wanted to join with this man, wanted to meld with his body—a body so finely made and so beautiful, holding a spirit so loving and true.

She reached down to help him rid her legs of the cumbersome underwear, and then they were both naked. He pulled her to him, and she delighted in the warm, intimate touch of his skin against her own, from her head to her toes. It was a voluptuous sensation, both completely satisfying and at the same time causing her to want so much more, and she reveled in it!

Once more she threw her arms about his neck and pressed herself against him, thinking nothing was as good as the feel of his body against hers. She kissed him, loving the touch of his lips when he returned the embrace even more forcefully…and when he moved his body, placing himself so that he was poised to enter her, Maddie's eyes widened, but she did not protest—but despite herself, she tensed.

And she knew, somehow, even in the darkness, when he blinked and opened his eyes.

H
is eyes had been open before, as they usually were
when he sleepwalked, but not really seeing. This was different, and she knew it.

“Madeline?”

Oh, dear heaven, what would he think of her? Would he call off the betrothal? He might think her too wanton to be his wife, Maddie thought, belatedly realizing all the implications of suddenly finding your fiancée naked in your bed. Glad he could not see her surely flaming face in the dark, she ducked her head.

“Madeline, did I force you to my bed? Or hold you here against your will?”

She could lie, of course. She could not read his tone, or tell if he was displeased or shocked. He sounded—he sounded—what did she hear in his tone? She could not dissemble.

“No, Adrian,” she said, her own voice flat. “You were sleepwalking again. I brought you back to your chamber to get you safely back in bed, and—and—it came about that—”

He lowered his face and kissed her ear.

Surprised, she jumped.

He dropped his face even lower and kissed the skin just beneath her ear, and then the delicate skin of her neck. Shivering at the delicious sensations, Maddie could barely lie still. “Adrian!”

“As long as you are here of your own volition.”

“You are not shocked?”

“Shocked? My darling girl, I am ecstatic. I have wanted to do this since the night I found you in the gazebo. But I had to be sure you wanted it, too.” He kissed the sensitive skin where her neck joined her shoulder, and next she felt the soft touch of his tongue.

Unable to lie still beneath such provocative behavior, she moved restlessly on the sheets. “Adrian! You were not—I mean—were you really—you were not feigning?”

“Was I really sleepwalking? Sadly, yes. It's an unfortunate habit I had as a child, and it has returned since the war. But I do admit that for the last several minutes I think I have been half awake. At any rate, I was aware of a very lifelike and delightful dream…”

She blushed again, but now his hands were roaming over her body even as his mouth still lingered at her shoulder. He touched the tender skin of her breast, and Maddie knew that she gave a silent gasp as his supple fingers ringed her breast, circling closer and closer in lazy motions until they touched the nipple, easing it into a taut alertness that made her feel as if she might shout into the night. When he put his hand on her other breast, she clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid the spasms of pleasure might burst past her lips despite her best intentions.

He leaned over her and kissed her again, his lips hard and firm, and Maddie thought she might be drowning once more in sensations so deep and languorous that it hardly seemed they could get any better.

And then he moved one hand down to the soft vee between her legs, and Maddie found that yes, there was more, and she wanted it, and she was so ready for him that her body arched on its own accord.

“Yes,” Adrian murmured, “yes, beloved.” He slipped his hand lower and pushed his fingers into her inner self, and the resulting ripple of pleasure took her breath.

“Oh, Adrian,” she said, not expecting this. When he stroked, she gasped at the sensation and found herself pushing against his hand. She discovered that she was wet with wanting, and now he moved himself again, positioning his body over her—she could just see him shift in the moonlight from the window.

“I think you are ready, my love, more than ready,” he said, and he sounded breathless too.

Maddie couldn't even think of speaking; she was biting her lip to hold back the moans of pure need. Suddenly he thrust deeply into her, and she gasped. There was a twinge of pain, but only for a moment—then he pulled back, leaned to kiss her again, and before she could even wonder about the discomfort, pushed once more. This time, the blissful tide of feeling carried her deep, deep into the rushing ecstasy of their joining. It was so intense and delightful that she almost moaned aloud. Perhaps she did—she was aware only of diving forward into a sea of wonderful sensations.

They rose and fell together, their bodies naked, haloed by the faint golden glow of moonlight. The harder he thrust, the harder she pushed against him, and the more exquisite were the waves of pleasure that washed over her—and surely, him, too? They were one, they were one being, joined at the heart of their existence with a pulsating core of energy that sent back ripples of pleasure to rebound and wash over them again and again as they found the rhythm that their bodies demanded.

This was everything she had dreamed of and more. He rose and fell above her, and each time they met, the ripple of feeling that rushed over her skin seemed to ignite feelings of exquisite joy—she felt she could barely contain them. Together they seem to sizzle and spark until she thought that from the friction of their fevered union, the sheets, the bed, the room might catch fire. Yet she would not have stopped for anything.

What had ever been so sweet, so delicious, so deeply resoundingly pleasurable? This was beyond thought, beyond reason, when they rose to the highest peak—to the final crest of the utmost pinnacle, Maddie felt giddy from lack of breath till she thought she might not be able to bear the pleasure it was so intense. Then, like shooting stars, like meteors bursting from the sky, like a heart filled past contentment with love surfeit and true—at last Adrian fell back against the bed and gathered her into his arms, both too exhausted to speak.

This, then, was love between a man and a woman.

Maddie lay her cheek against Adrian's chest and marveled.

Filled with the delicious languor that came after joining, it seemed she had only allowed her eyelids, which had felt so heavy, to close for a moment. Then suddenly she was aware that Adrian was kissing her again. When she opened her eyes, she saw with alarm that outside the window, she could make out faint streaks of grayness. A lone sentinel tweeted the first notes that would soon be joined by scores of birds in trees all around the house.

“My dearest, I would be delighted to resume our lovemaking, but I fear your faithful maidservant might start her rounds soon, and—”

“Oh, heavens, if Bess should find me here!” Just the idea had Maddie sitting straight up in bed, then grabbing her nightgown to cover her bare body.

“Yes, that was my thought.” He grinned, looking quite unrepentant.

“Wretch!” She made a face at him and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. She pulled her gown quickly over her head and turned toward the door, almost falling off the bed.

“'Ware the edge!” Adrian leaned over to grab her just in time.

Feeling foolish, Maddie managed to get her head through the neck of her gown, then pushed her arms through. “I have to go.” She ran for the door, opened it, and checked the hall, then looked back and smiled ruefully at her fiancé—and lover.

Eyes tender, he smiled back.

She ran for her room.

She was in the wrong house. It was too big to be the cottage
and too old and drafty to be the house in London. While she tried to think where she was, Felicity smelled the smoke. No, no, she had lived this before—how could it be happening again? The smoke was in her nose and throat and mouth—she could taste it, smell it, and it made her cough as she fought to breathe. The hair on the back of her neck prickled with an awareness of danger. She had no time to worry about how or why this was real, she had to get out.

She stretched out her arms for something to grasp, but she felt only the threadbare sheets of her bed. She tried to push back the bedclothes but they seemed to be wrapped too tightly around her body, clutching her like reeds pulling down a drowning man. Feeling more frantic with every moment that passed, she scissored her legs against them, fought and kicked again and again, and at last the heavy covers gave way. She half fell, half jumped off the bed, lurching to her feet.

The air was murky with smoke, and drawing in the foul air, she choked. She couldn't breathe. She caught up a shawl lying on the chair near the bed and held it over her mouth to filter the air as she groped for a candle to light so that she could see through the gloomy darkness, but there wasn't time.

She had to get out.

“Help me!” she called, her voice choking in the smoky air, but no one answered.

She remembered that she was alone; everyone she knew had been left behind—when she had been disgraced, when all the other ladies she had once known had turned their backs.

This was no time for memories. The smoke was growing thicker. Her head had a strange buzzing inside it, and her lungs hurt with the constant struggle to breathe.

She stumbled over a three-legged stool that loomed out of the darkness and fell to her hands and knees. Closer to the floor, the air was cleaner, and for a moment her head cleared a little. She pushed the stool aside and crawled toward the outer door. It was her last chance, she knew instinctively, her last chance to live before the smoke became too dense and she passed out and died in the conflagration.

Pushed by a desperate will to live, she crawled inch by inch toward the door. She could feel the heat of the flames at her back, hear the crackle of the blaze. She was so very afraid, and so tired of gasping for breath. If she could just lay her head down on her smoke-stained hands and rest for a moment…

No, no, she shrieked at herself from some distance above the small figure in the grimy nightgown, already streaked with smoke and falling cinders. Don't stop now! Get up, get up! Somehow, she continued to creep toward the heavy wooden door. She reached it, ready to pull it open and tumble out into the clean outer air.

But the door wouldn't open—

Gasping, Felicity sat straight up in bed.

This was the way the nightmare always ended.

There was no reason for her eyes to be filled with tears, she told herself, rubbing away the treacherous liquid. She had survived, the door
had
opened…. But if the person who had set the fire—for she had never believed it to be an accident, as the villagers had judged—had thought to secure the door somehow, she could never have lived to move and try to hide her identity once again.

Shivering as she pushed away the memories, Felicity rubbed the small burn scars on her forearms that she usually kept hidden beneath long sleeves. As she did, she looked up at one of the small windows in the cottage wall. Blinking, she made out a man's face staring down at her.

After their wonderful night of lovemaking, Maddie
thought it best to be extra circumspect, so she and the viscount met again only at the breakfast table, where she barely had the nerve to look at him. She felt as if her change in circumstances must be printed upon her forehead.

Could her father tell that she was no longer a maiden? Surely not, but still she fought with her treacherous too-ready blushes and strove to keep an even complexion, concentrating on her toast and porridge.

She shot Adrian only an occasional veiled peek from beneath her lowered lashes.

But he
would
send her those mischievous glances—with that glint in his eyes that made her want to giggle at all the wrong times, when her father was discussing the men's chess game and the viscount's excellent gambit…excellent, indeed!

She could remark on some excellent gambits, she told herself, and had to bite her lip to keep from collapsing into a fit of laughter. She took a sip of tea so hastily that she almost sloshed the liquid onto the tablecloth.

It was just as well that her father took Adrian off for yet another game of chess after breakfast.

“You don't mind, do you, my dear?” he said to his daughter.

“Of course not, Papa,” she lied, smiling at them both.

“Chess is
almost
my favorite pastime,” the viscount added, giving them both a cordial smile and, when Mr. Applegate had turned away, adding a wink for Maddie's benefit.

“Oh, is there another game you prefer? Perhaps we can try it instead,” her father suggested.

She had to pinch herself when her father didn't see to keep from giggling, and she gave Adrian a reproachful look for his teasing. He immediately sobered and gave her a repentant bow.

“No, no, I like chess very well indeed,” he said, “and we cannot stop our tournament at such a time; I am almost catching up.”

They left for the study, and Maddie went to the kitchen to help Bess clear away the breakfast dishes and get some of the dinner menu started. Then, unable to be still, she climbed the steps to her room and, drawn once more to the neat bundle of her mother's letters, sat on her bed and held them to her heart.

Had her mother known such delights as Maddie and Adrian had shared last night, after she had married her father?

Maddie wished her mother had lived long enough so that she could talk to her now, ask her questions, request advice on her upcoming marriage.

She looked down at the letters, and the temptation was too strong to resist. She decided she could take another quick look. She drew out one of the letters and found that her mother was remembering a stroll they had taken through the garden.