Bride Enchanted (8 page)

He kissed her softly, at first, and then, because he felt her body straining to get closer to his, he deepened his kisses, and felt the warmth of her mouth against his. He touched her tongue with his own, and found her arching toward him, offering much more than her mouth. Her nipples were hard and crested against his chest; her hips arched into him, she laid one hand on his back, holding him closer to herself, the other at the nape of his neck. And all the while she murmured his name into his ear. When he felt his sex rising and
straining toward her, he kept it trapped between them so he wouldn't end this luxurious searching too soon. She was wonderfully responsive to him, but then, he'd known it could be no other way with her. He hadn't guessed the absolute sweetness of her complete surrender to him, though, and he was charmed.

He was patient with her, Eve knew it. But she was ecstatically impatient with him. She knew the plain fact of what was to come, she was no fool. But she hadn't known how she'd react to it. She feared the pain she'd heard about. That had been before she knew the bliss. Now she did, and was eager to get on with it. He made her feel that ever more so. His lips on the peaks of her breasts, first one, then the other, was thrilling; his touch was so exquisite it set her aching, but with a sweet pain she loved. There was no holding back, none of the shyness she'd feared, nothing but such complete willingness that it even shocked her.

And then, too short a time, and far too long a time for her, she felt him raise himself, part her, touch her and set her trembling with weakness because of the strength of her desire. At last he brought himself to her, and she felt a slight pang, the first reminder that she'd never done this before. It brought her back to herself, she withdrew
from him, if only in her mind, and her body began to tense for the first time, not with expectation of ecstasy, but fear of it.

He murmured something. She hardly heard it. He passed his hand over her hair, her face, as he kissed her, and then murmured more. Love words, she thought dazedly, they comforted her even as they aroused her. There was then no pain, no discomfort, only Aubrey filling her until they were as one.

Her body, relaxed, then tensed and shuddered. As he began to move, she moved with him until she felt herself gathering toward some incredible storm. Then at last, she felt the long slow shudders of a pulsing release. She uttered a short cry against his shoulder, and clung to him as waves of pleasure washed over her, and brought her, at last, to herself again.

Only then did he move more quickly, rocking into her, until he too shivered and groaned, and finally arching his back, released.

They both sank to the softness of the bed, and lay entangled, too overcome to speak, too much in pleasure to move from each other.

“Oh my,” she finally said.

She heard his laughter, silent and deep in his chest.

“That was wonderful,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

She bit her lip. “But there was no pain. Only joy. And a person who hasn't done it isn't supposed to feel such pleasure. That's supposed to come in time. But Aubrey, I swear to you that I've never done this before.”

“I know,” he said. “And pleasure comes when it will.”

She disengaged from him slowly, and looked down at herself. “Oh!” she gasped, turning this way and that. “There's blood,” she whispered, “but it didn't hurt. I vow it isn't my time of the month, I never knew a man before you.”

“Hush,” he said, taking her in his arms. “I know. And it doesn't have to hurt. I would never let myself hurt you.”

She sank to her elbows above him. “I'm surely the luckiest female in all England,” she whispered, gazing down at him.

“So I hope you will be,” he said, but there was a trace of sorrow in his voice that made her frown. “Who can tell the future?” he asked briskly, sitting up and laying her down again. “I'll get some water, we'll clean up, and then you can dream in my arms. What you heard was partly right, tomorrow will be even better for you.”

“How could it be?” she said.

He laughed. Then he rose and stepped from the bed. “We shall see. You haven't felt all we can do together. There's more, much more.”

Her grin was touched with a little nervousness. “Can I bear it?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “You were made for me.”

The night was at its height. Aubrey lay in bed with his bride asleep in his arms. The moonlight kept him wakeful until she'd fallen asleep. But she'd had question after question for him, as honest and eager as a child to know how she'd done, what did he think, was she what he'd wanted? The slice of moonlight that came through the window lit his smile. She was exactly what he wanted.

He rose from the bed in one smooth move. He kissed his sleeping bride lightly and whispered one word—“sleep”—to her.

Then he threw on a night robe, left the room and the house, and walked out into the broad moonlight at the back of his house. He stood basking in its cold glow. It was high midnight. The moon shone whole and full, white, and clear, and for those with eyes that could see there was sufficient light for living and dying. There were no sounds but those of the breeze-
fluttering leaves in the trees in the forest; an occasional chirrup of late crickets, and the shivering sounds of those things that moved almost soundlessly on wing or feet through the night to devour them.

Aubrey put his face up to the moon and let his night robe fall from his shoulders to puddle at his feet. In that moment he looked like any of the glorious statues Eve had seen in cold marble in the museum. But he was cool living flesh. He closed his eyes, and sought answers.

She wasn't with child yet. He'd never really thought she could be, even she, not this soon.

But soon, he wordlessly promised to the moon.

He'd waited for her for so long. He still couldn't believe his good fortune in finding her. He'd pored through books, and tested memories, his own and others, and at last he'd found her. She would conceive his long-awaited son, if not at first, then at last. And at last, he'd be content. He hoped she would be too. He could assure it. Though in some small way, he regretted it. That surprised him; he never had regretted anything he'd done before.

But that was why he'd sought her out, and why he so prized her. Because she was like him as no other mortal woman had ever been. He treasured
her and would continue to, for so long a time as they would have together. And, he thought, with sad surprise, maybe for long after too.

Then, refreshed and reborn in the cool quiet night, he caught up his robe, donned it again, and went back into his house.

He stepped softly into the bedchamber, and paused by her side. The moonlight lit her face where she lay dreaming on her pillow. He looked at her with tenderness. Those tousled curls framing her face were silvered by the night. Charming, she was, he thought, innocent and wise, honest to a fault, and utterly giving.

He was sorry for many things, but even so, for all he pitied her, he couldn't be sorry for having her. They would together change the world. His world. He'd make sure she'd find peace and happiness in her own as well. He bent to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered open and looked at him with a steady gaze. He was surprised.

“Where were you?” she asked, touching his dew dampened hair.

“I went out into the moonlight, to think,” he said truthfully. “I didn't want to wake you by stirring too much in our bed,” he added, lying.

“Why couldn't you sleep?” she asked.

“Because I couldn't be sure of dreaming of
you,” he said, knowing it was the perfect thing to say.

And it was. They lay down together, and he took her back into his arms. She shivered at the chill of his body, but her own warmth soon warmed him. She slept again. He closed his eyes and gave thanks, again.

T
he night was almost done, and gray shadows in the sky showed the coming dawn. Eve woke and stretched and yawned. She felt Aubrey stirring beside her, so she rose on one elbow to peer over his shoulder and look down into his face. He turned his head.

“Is it wrong to love what we do as much as I do?” she asked worriedly, glad of the dim light that hid her blushes.

“It's the rightest thing in the world,” he said.

She sighed. “But I shock myself. I used to be such a proper young woman.”

“Loving lovemaking with your husband is perfectly proper,” he said. He sighed too now, growing weary, wondering how often he'd said that before, other places, other times

“Is it wrong to do the things we do
when
we make love?” she asked seriously.

“We do the things that please us. We were told to worship each other with our bodies and our hearts, weren't we?”

“But some things…” she said doubtfully.

He studied her carefully. “Have I ever made you do anything that frightened or disgusted you? Have I ever asked you to do anything against your will?”

“You've only ever pleased me and showed me how to please you, which pleased me more,” she said.

“So why are you so sad? Do you feel guilty? Misused?”

“No. Just surprised at myself. You know, I think I have it. You,” she finally said, “have ensorcelled me.”

He'd been smiling but now his eyes widened and his breathing stilled.

“Yes,” she said, planting a light kiss on the tip of his nose. She put an arm on his other side, framing him, and raised herself until she lay half atop his hard body. She looked down into his face. “Bespelled me, you have. Cast a web of sensual pleasure upon me so that I forget time and place. But I've fought free of it. It's been exactly three weeks since we married, and already I can see more clearly. The truth of it is that you could have saved all your black magic. I just love making love
with you.” She flopped over on her back again, and laughed.

He turned to her, and pulled her back into his arms. “Are you sure it isn't magic?” he asked, his lips on her neck.

She shivered. “Yes. But if love is magic, then it is. But the problem now is…” she paused and buried her head in his chest, “I don't know how to tell you this, or if I should…but we can't do more now, I don't think. The thing is that I woke an hour ago and discovered that I've got my courses,” she said in a rush. “And so I don't know if we can now, can we? Well, but even if we could, my stomach aches. Now, if you've any magic left over, please use it now, will you?”

He laid her back on her pillow and kissed her lips. “You should tell me, and you have told me, and the only magic I know for that is willow bark tea, and warm compresses. Later, when the pain is eased, I'll show you I can please you anyhow.”

“I believe you can,” she said in a small voice. “But it makes me sad. And not just because of the discomfort. Do you think this means I'll have difficulty conceiving our baby?”

He laughed softly. “Eve, my love, we haven't been married yet a month. If babies came so easily, there wouldn't be room to put a foot down there'd be so many people on earth.”

“But my friend Chloe conceived the day she was wed,” she said nervously.

“Probably a few weeks before,” he said. “It can happen the first time, but usually it takes much longer. Don't fret. We have a whole life ahead of us.”

She knew he was right, but she was melancholy anyway. It was odd because she'd never felt particularly maternal before, beyond getting along with certain children. Now she discovered herself yearning for a child. Not just any child: a boy that looked like Aubrey, with inky black hair that fell into his big brown eyes. She had brown curls and eyes, but she'd never found it attractive. She still didn't want a copy of herself. She wanted his image in her son or daughter as she had seldom wanted anything before.

He put one large warm hand on her abdomen. “Now, go back to sleep. So we won't greet the dawn in our usual fashion. What of it? We have years full of mornings to come. Sleep. The sun isn't full up yet. Sleep.”

She sighed, and snuggled close to him, fitting her bottom into his lap, holding his hand on her stomach. Soon he could feel her even breathing as she slept again. Only then did he relax.

 

“So there,” Aubrey said later that morning as they walked down the lane by the great meadow. “Now I think you've seen all of it. What do you think? Do you still want me to put up statues and gazebos, fountains and succession houses?”

She stopped. “I never said that!” she declared, her hands on her hips. “I always said this place is enchanting as it is, and so it is. It's natural and beautiful, and magnificent in its way. I don't want anything more. But…” she hesitated.

“But?”

“But it would be nice to meet more neighbors,” she blurted. “And see more people too. Not that I'm lonely. Please don't think that for a minute. How could anyone be lonely with you around? We read, we talk, we walk; I've never been so happy. All that is positively true. But I want to show off. I want to show
us
off,” she added, truthfully.

“Wouldn't it be nice to have a party?” she asked him. “Not that I'm a social butterfly. I'm actually more a bee, because I like to do things, not flit from party to party. Still if we have a party, we can invite some of my old friends, and my brother too. I don't know if my father would stir to come so far, but I do know Sherry would jump at a chance to see where I live. He's written me, hinting about it. And I want to share my joy. If we did have a party
I could get to meet some of your friends too. Our honeymoon will last forever, I hope. But we've passed the first moon of it, haven't we? So it isn't really a honeymoon anymore. Though it feels like one,” she added quickly.

“So it does and so we have,” he said.

He smiled at her. She was still adorable to him, and that was so unusual, so charming, and so pleasant that he himself had forgotten how much time had passed. She was a delight. Saucy and pretty, and best of all, she never bored him; she made the world seem new again. Her manners were impeccable, her conversation was amusing, her intelligence keen, her constantly busy mind kept him on his toes. She was all fire in his bed, and all warmth in her heart. Nothing embarrassed her if he asked it of her, but then he never asked anything of her he wouldn't do himself. Nothing displeased her if it pleased him, and everything she did pleased him.

And yet, they could and did argue. They disagreed about politics and literature almost as often as they agreed, and it was a treat for them both. Because they never got really angry at each other. She'd come to him without fear or artifice, and was honest with him and with herself. He regretted he couldn't say the same for himself. But they were happy as it was. He'd known so many
females, but no one exactly like her. She gave love even as she took it. Unlike the beauties and the titled females in his past, and some he had lived with far longer, Eve had already found a niche in his heart he hadn't known was there. He reasoned it was because of how alike they were, more than he'd ever believed possible. His heart was high, now he believed all things were possible, even his life's dream of content.

Today she wore a russet gown, the color of the turning leaves. With the breeze in her curls, and her light step as they walked, she reminded him of some wild creature that had just stepped out of the wood. It made him feel even more comfortable.

“And it's a beautiful autumn,” she persisted. “There's been little rain and I think the good weather will hold at least until winter. When winter comes, everyone in London goes to his or her own homes for Christmas, or they go off to huge Christmas parties at country estates. I don't think I want to go to all that trouble, what with guests staying over for twelve nights, and Yule logs, and caroling. And gathering the holly and the ivy to decorate the place, giving gifts to everyone, feasting every night, and arranging carriages to take the guests to and from church. Just listing the things to do exhausts me. Do you want to go to such lengths?”

“No, not at all.”

“Are you cold?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Why should you say that?”

“I just saw you shiver,” she said.

He smiled, she watched his every move. It was flattering, and dangerous. Perhaps she did need diversion. “I think a party held on All Hallows Eve would be pleasant,” he mused. “That's coming up soon. We could decorate the Hall and feast and have games, and yet keep our London guests happy for only three or four days, not twelve nights. It isn't customary to stay so long for that kind of party anyway. Nor would anyone want to go to anything but a churchyard, and if they did, there'd be no carriages to arrange because they could walk to that. The guests I'd invite live closer by too, so they wouldn't stay overnight in any event. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” she said excitedly. “What a good idea. We could have our guests bring costumes, like the night when we agreed to marry,” she said, as he'd hoped she would.

“And will you come as a ragged kitchen maid this time?”

“No,” she said seriously. “I'd like to come as your queen.”

He repressed a shiver. She was at times so close
to the truth without knowing it that he wondered if she really knew more than he thought.

“So you shall be my queen,” he said. “Now, I think you were right. It's early autumn, and I never get sick. But the chill of the day does seem to be getting to me. I must be coming down with something. Or it's just that you and your insatiable demands have worn me out,” he said, just to see her blush. “Shall we go in and have some tea, sit by the fire and warm up while we plan our gala?”

She grinned up at him. “I wish I could warm you completely, no matter the consequences. But soon, in a few days, I can.”

He took her hand in his. “Just seeing you happy warms me, Eve.”

“Does it? Then you'll never be cold again,” she said.

He wished that were true, but was too wise to say anything, and far too wise to believe it.

 

“Aubrey,” Eve said. “There's a door we can't open.”

He looked up from the papers he was studying.

She was standing in the doorway to his study, her hair hidden under a kerchief, an apron tied around her waist. She looked like the ragged Ella
of the Cinders she had played those months ago. Mrs. Hood, his housekeeper, stood by her side.

“I see. And you want to open it to find my beheaded wives?” he asked.

“No. I wouldn't think you'd be so sloppy,” she said impatiently. “I want to open it because we're clearing house for guests.”

“Where is the door?” he asked, laying down his pen,

“In the back of the house, near the kitchens. If it opened, I think it would be a room that exited to the kitchen gardens. But I can't be sure. There's no window on the outside there. We shoved and pried, and Mrs. Hood went through all her keys, but the door won't open.”

He stretched. “I'll come along and see, but it's probably just another one of the rooms that my ancestors bricked over.” He laughed. “Your eyes will fall out if they open any wider. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Eve, my love, but there's no pirate treasure or skeletons behind those doors. They were either priest's holes that were closed after the burning of priests stopped being such a sport, or simply rooms my ancestors no longer had any use for. When there's a house this big, it's easier to close a room than to tear down part of the house to be rid of it. Some of my forebears were as miserly as some were reckless spenders.
And it's more amusing to add new spaces than to recover lost ones. We've doors to nowhere all over the place. But let's go see this one. It may be just a stuck doorjamb.”

He nodded to his aged housekeeper, and followed her and Eve to the back of the long house. They stopped in a corridor in front of a dark wooden door that fit seamlessly into the wall. Only a latch on its side showed that it had ever been a door.

He nodded. “As I thought. It goes nowhere, and never opens. The others in the house are mostly unnoticeable because they don't have latches. They've been painted or papered over. But not here, and that was odd. I used to dream about what might be behind this one when I was a boy. It enlivened my life quite a bit.”

“I thought you grew up in Italy,” Eve said, her forehead wrinkling.

The hallway was suddenly silent. Mrs. Hood stared at the floor.

“So I did,” Aubrey said easily. “My father told me about this door, because he'd tried to open it when he was a boy. I dreamed about it so much that I swore the first thing I'd do when I came here would be to hack down that door. But I only found others like it. And then I found you, and the thought went out of my mind. Do you want me to
call in workmen now so we can have a peek? I suspect all we'll find is a brick wall behind it, and when we knock those down, we'll only have an empty room.”

“Lord, no!” Eve said. “I don't want to start any new work now. I just want to get rooms cleared for our guests. Oh, this will be such fun!”

“So it will,” he promised. “I was just writing out my invitations. Mrs. Hood, Far Isle will have more guests than it's had in many a year. You'll need more help than we have. Ask at the stables, and ask the cook, and then get some of the villagers to come work here for a few weeks.”

Mrs. Hood lowered her gaze.

“I understand, of course,” he went on in a smoother voice, “it's a busy time of year for them, getting the slaughter done, killing the cattle and hogs that wouldn't get through the winter, bringing in the last of the crops and so on. So I will, of course, pay very well. I'll pay everyone double for their trouble.”