Forbidden (62 page)

The night air was cold, October well into fall at the mountain altitude, the stars vivid in the blackness of the sky. Etienne drove the single-horse carriage with an effortless skill, the reins looped lightly around his gloved hands as they traveled through the city streets. At the outskirts of town, he transferred the reins into one hand, touching Daisy's fingers with his.

"Are you warm enough?"

She nodded, settled beneath a fur lap-robe, his heated body pressed closely to hers, an unfathomable contentment inundating her soul.

"Are you tired?"

"A little." She found herself existing more often now in a state of benign lassitude, with the baby absorbing some of her energy.

"I'll put you to sleep in twenty more minutes. Louis has the cook preparing some warm almond milk for you."

"If you're going to take such good care of me, having your children could get to be a habit." The smile she gave him was unmotherly and seductive, her awareness of his thigh and arm and shoulder like a resplendent memory and promise.

"In that case," the Duc said, his voice charged with husky emotion, "taking care of you offers an added dimension of fascinating… advantage." The back of his gloved fingertips brushed the curve of her cheek. "You look radiant. Are you as pleased as I?" He grinned into the starlite night, adding in a teasing voice, "No one can be as pleased as I, but are you half as pleased?"

"I look in the mirror a hundred times a day waiting to see… that first indication, wanting to have visual evidence of our child." Reaching up, she kissed the coolness of his cheek. "I'm ecstatic. And thank you for coming so soon. I told Father I should be more mature and patient, but I wanted you here with me… right now. I couldn't wait."

"When your telegram came and I read it, the normal operation of my brain stopped for a moment in this shuddering suspension of belief, followed a second later by a fanfare of trumpets and colors flying. Bourges said I quite literally stopped breathing for a moment. You couldn't have kept me away."

"How long can you stay?" She said it quickly, like a child would ask for bad news about bedtime.

"I hope to stay as long as you need me."

His words frightened her mildly, for they didn't speak of permanence. Although she understood in the rational portion of her mind he couldn't offer her what she wished. "You found a house. I'm glad." She could say that at least without being clinging and difficult. He had said they would marry, too, when his divorce was final. When that happened, he would be hers in the commitment of his world. She should be content with that. She shouldn't want everything. She must accept there would be times in the coming months they would be separated. She worried, though, in a small recess of her mind—about those separations, her jealousy a stabbing reality. What would he be doing and with whom… should they be regularly apart?

"I'll build something better… later."

"I'm finding my nesting instincts are becoming more active. A biological manifestation apparently, because I've never cared particularly where I lived. I've always had my own apartments in my parents' homes and been content." She didn't say she had this overpowering impulse to include him in her nest. An irrational kind of jealous bondage so that he was hers alone.

"Do some shopping tomorrow then. I only bought the bare minimum today. Nest to your heart's content. I'll help you."

"I'm going to buy baby things."

His arms went around her shoulders and he hugged her close. "We'll buy out the stores."

"Oh, Etienne…" Daisy whispered, tears spilling over onto her cheeks, her heart so full of love she found the boundless sky too small to hold her happiness.

He stopped the buggy when he realized she was crying, pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently, his lips cool, their pressure delicate. "Don't cry," he whispered. "We don't have to buy out the stores." His teasing huskiness drifted over the softness of her mouth.

Daisy hiccupped a wet smile, then spoke from her heart because the words wouldn't stay repressed any longer, because she couldn't be acceptant or practical as she should be, as she'd been most of her life. "I love you too much," she said in a tremulous voice, "and I'm happy beyond any dimension I'd ever envisioned, but I'm jealous and petty, too, and I want you beside me every minute, every day. I want you to stay with me after we buy baby clothes; I want you to stay with me until our baby isn't a baby, until our baby has brothers and sisters, and I'm afraid of my own possessiveness. I'll drive you away with this intense need for ownership. I'm sorry. I wish I was more…"

"Submissive?" Etienne offered, amusement lacing the richness of his voice.

Daisy's lashes lifted abruptly. "I don't like that word."

The Duc was pleased to see his darling Daisy had reverted to form. "I think the baby makes you feel this way… along with your nesting instinct. I'm not going anywhere… don't worry."

"You have to though. Bourges can't telegraph everything, nor can your business manager or—"

"Let me worry about that. You feel free to be as possessive as you wish. I'll fight back if you become annoying," he added with an indulgent smile.

"You won't mind? You won't find it intolerable?" She sighed softly. "I'm afraid I'm only going to get worse…"

"And fatter," he added with a grin.

"You won't want to look at me," she said with a pout.

"Or I may want to look at you more." He gently lifted her chin with one crooked finger. "I have my own obsessive inclination of ownership. That's my child you're carrying and I want to see it growing in you."

"You're sure?" Her question was tentative, a need for assurance.

"I've been counting the days and hours since I received your telegram till I could see you again. When I went to Isabelle's I was prepared to beg her for a divorce, on my knees if necessary. I'm sure," he said in a quiet, hushed voice. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

Daisy's smile was blissful. "You'll allow me to be demanding then?"

"I'll allow you anything, darling. My benevolence knows no bounds."

"That must be why women love you." She said it in open artlessness, as if she were not a sophisticated woman who had lured him more provocatively than most females.

A benevolence of a specific sort, the Duc recognized, was the reason women found him attractive, but he knew Daisy was speaking in a more comprehensive, unsubstantial way, so he said, "As long as
you
love me, I'm content."

They were in Clear River Valley short minutes later, the two-story log home nestled at the base of the treeline, aglow with light, welcoming with every window golden warm against the dark shadowed pines.

And when Louis greeted them at the door, Daisy experienced a delicious feeling of coming home. Louis had been such an integral part of their existence at Etienne's home on the Seine, it seemed for a moment, she were back in Paris. But the gun rack in the foyer reminded her succinctly she was not in cosmospolitan Paris, as did the moosehead mounted at the top of the stairway.

"Tomorrow you have free rein, darling," Etienne said, noting the direction of her gaze as they ascended the wide staircase, carpeted in a tartan plaid typical of male hunting lodges. "There was only time today to clean. Apparently the Viscount's household was a bachelor one."

"You don't mind?"

"It's your home, too."

"Then the moosehead goes."

"Have the moosehead taken down, Louis," the Duc said to his valet who was preceding them up the stairs.

"Immediately, Your Grace."

"Morning's fine, Etienne."

"In the morning, then, Louis," Etienne said. "Unless some of the help is available tonight."

Louis understood without turning around, the Duc wished immediate action. "Very good, sir," he replied, opening the door into the master bedroom and standing aside. "Your punch is ready, sir, on the table near the fire, and Miss Daisy's milk will be brought up directly."

"Thank you, Louis. Tell Cook breakfast will be late."

"Certainly, sir, and if I might say so, sir, it's very pleasant to have Miss Daisy in your household again."

"You may tell her yourself, Louis. Ceremony is out of place in this setting." The Duc's smile was warm.

Louis turned to Daisy with a small bow, his smile welcoming. "It's a pleasure to have you back, Miss Daisy. We've missed you."

He spoke in the royal
we
, as Etienne often did, more conscious of protocol than even his master. Daisy smiled at the trim, middle-aged man who had taken care of Etienne since he was first in need of a valet. "I'm pleased to be back with you, Louis. And tomorrow you must help me put this house to rights."

"Certainly, Miss Daisy. Now that the house has a mistress, the decor requires substantial renovation. We look forward to your directions."

Etienne was standing patiently at Daisy's side but his gaze restlessly surveyed the room, his separation from Daisy too long for much more polite conversation. His glance returned to Louis, a bland, pointed look to which Louis immediately responded.

"Good night, sir. Will you require anything else?"

"No." The Duc's response was exceptionally quiet.

"Good night, Miss."

"Good night, Louis."

And when the door closed softly behind Louis a moment later, Etienne pulled Daisy into his arms and kissed her, fiercely, intensely, with pent-up passion. He'd had to sit beside her and talk to her, only touching in the ways prescribed by politeness while they dined and visited with her family. Now at last he had her alone, after weeks of separation, and a wild need raced through his senses.

She felt softer than he remembered, her body filled out with new, rounded contours, her breasts fuller against his chest. And her mouth beneath his, her lips, wet and warm, offered a sweetness he craved.

Tightening her arms around Etienne's neck, Daisy rose on tiptoe, the pressure of her lips demanding more, wanting more, her body stretched against his hard frame, offering her passion.

His tongue penetrated her mouth in slow, languid arousal, the evidence of his need rigid against her belly.

Lifting his mouth slightly, he brushed a lingering kiss over her lips. She reached higher, wanting his mouth back, wanting the sensation, the pressure, the taste and feel of him. The Duc eluded her. "I promised to put you to sleep…" he said, remembering.

"I'm not tired…" Daisy breathed, her blood heated and pulsing, the feel of his erection, hard and long, burning into her body. Her tongue traced the curve of his lower lip she could reach. "Kiss me…"

"I shouldn't…" Etienne murmured! obliging her demand, his mouth caressing hers lightly, "you should sleep." He nibbled gently on her bottom lip and she shifted slightly to better feel the tingling heat between her thighs. "You're sleeping for two now…" he whispered, his hands lazily stroking the silken curve of her waist, his mouth lowering to hers once again, its pressure subtle, inquiring, teasing.

"Umm," Daisy sighed a few moments later, as the Duc's mouth released hers. Her hand drifted over the soft wool of his lapels, past the buttoned front of his jacket, slipped downward to the strained fabric over the swelling bulge in his trousers. "You don't seem tired either…" She stroked lightly and squeezed.

"Umm." The Duc's response rumbled deep in his throat, a luxurious smile lifted his mouth, sleep the farthest thing from his mind.

"Am I keeping you awake?" Daisy murmured, coy and teasing, her sensuous massage adding vivid dimension to the Duc's arousal.

"Acutely." Gazing down at her, his green eyes were heavy-lidded, intemperant, extravagant with desire. "I have a feeling I may be
up
much of the night," he whispered. "If you don't mind."

There was a faint wildness in the rough-soft timbre of his voice, and a familiar flare of fevered, intoxicating excitement raced through Daisy's senses. Her nipples peaked hard at the insinuation in his words, her breasts ached to be touched, sensitive suddenly to the fabric of her chemise, to the muscled strength of the Duc's body. A fluttering palpitation in the heated dampness between her legs kept time with the agitated beat of her heart and it took effort to force the air from her lungs. "I don't mind…" Her seductive dark lashes lifted to his another scant inch allowing him to see her flame-hot desire.

The fragrance of pine logs scented the air, the heat from the fire warmed the room to the same delicious temperature as passion had its occupants. A single kerosene lamp, its glass globe etched with grazing deer, shone in brilliant golden splendor from the dressertop, prisms of shimmering radiance reflected brightly from the tall pier mirror mounted behind it.

"Take your hair down," Etienne softly said, unlacing her arms from around his neck.

"I want to rip your clothes off instead," Daisy said, her fingers touching the silk of his cravat.

A soft rapping on the door interrupted.

"Later," the Duc promised, his tone provocative with promise. "Your milk, I expect." And he led Daisy over to the green velvet couch. "Wait here for me."