Authors: Adrienne Basso
Intimate Betrayal (22 page)
“I’d like to see anyone try to stop me,” Mavis retorted. “You need someone to look after you and that baby.”
“Thank goodness.” Alyssa sighed with relief. She didn’t think she was ready to face her new life as a duchess without the unfailing support of Mavis, not to mention coping with the unknown mysteries of childbirth.
When Alyssa was finished with her bath, Mavis lent a strong arm to steady her as she climbed out of the tub. Mavis quickly wrapped Alyssa in a large bath towel, and when she was dry, slipped on her nightgown.
“Are you sure about this nightdress, Mavis?” Alyssa questioned, buttoning the sleeves. “ ’Tis a bit revealing.” The new nightgown, chosen by Mavis, was an ethereal garment, made of soft, transparent silk. The heart-shaped neckline exposed most of Alyssa’s shoulders and quite a bit of her breasts. The sleeves were long and billowing and gathered tightly at her wrists with small buttons. Alyssa felt half naked in the garment.
“Why, you look lovely, my girl,” Mavis insisted.
“I am hardly a blushing young virgin, Mavis,” Alyssa commented dryly, thrusting out her belly. “And it isn’t necessary for me to look seductive for my husband. After all, it probably wouldn’t be wise to . . . to . . . I mean it probably isn’t safe if we . . . um . . .” Alyssa stammered, focusing her eyes intently on the rug.
“Consummate your marriage?” Mavis finished in a no-nonsense tone. “I spoke with the midwife when I was in the village this afternoon. She told me it would be fine. That is, as long as you are careful, and not too . . . um . . . rough.” Now it was Mavis’s turn to blush.
That rather embarrassing but important bit of advice given, Mavis left the room. Alyssa did not want to climb into the large four-poster bed alone. Instead she settled down in a big overstuffed chair in front of the fire to wait for Morgan. Growing bored, she scanned the room for something to occupy her time and discovered a worn volume of Shakespeare sonnets on the nightstand. Returning to her outpost on the chair, she covered her legs with a warm quilt and began reading the book.
Morgan discovered her there several hours later, fast asleep. The fire was nearly out, but the soft glow of the embers illuminated her pale skin and coppery hair. He crossed to the other side of the room and began undressing. Naked, he shrugged into the burgundy velvet robe left by the bed. He stood quietly for several minutes watching Alyssa as she slept, admiring her delicate beauty.
His wife. Difficult to believe. He had promised to never again domesticate himself, and yet it had happened. This marriage, Morgan vowed, would not be like his first. Remembering with painful clarity his wedding night with Valerie, Morgan shuddered. It had taken almost an hour to persuade her to make love. He had exercised great restraint, but Valerie was horrified by the entire act, weeping copious tears and refusing to speak to him.
Morgan tried for months afterward to woo Valerie into his bed, to establish a relationship with his wife, but she remained rigid and unyielding. She suffered his advances, physical and emotional, with a martyr-like attitude, blaming him for her fear and lack of response. He never understood her. She was like two different women, pleasant and charming in front of others, cold and distant when they were alone together. Defeated, Morgan eventually ceased trying to be a husband.
Alyssa stirred in her sleep, focusing Morgan’s attention back to the present. True, Alyssa was a very different person from Valerie, and he smiled when he thought of their lovemaking. No problem in that quarter. But there was much more to marriage than sex, and this marriage was certainly off to a rocky start. He wondered if they would be able to overcome their differences and rectify their misunderstandings. He certainly intended to try.
Alyssa came awake suddenly, startled to find Morgan staring at her.
“Are you finished?” she asked in a sleepy voice. Alyssa yawned lazily and rolled the stiffness from her neck. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“In a way,” he answered. “Come to bed now, Alyssa. It is very late.”
Morgan reached out his arm to help her rise, giving a sharp intake of breath when he saw her stand. Her nightgown had slipped off one shoulder completely, making her look slightly rumpled and very desirable. He jerked his gaze away, appalled at the sharp twist of desire burning in his loins. Here was a woman nearly six months gone with his child and he was already hard and throbbing at the thought of bedding her.
But Morgan hesitated. Having no experience with expectant females left him clueless in gauging Alyssa’s feelings. Would she welcome his advances? Was it safe? Could he harm her or the child? Morgan highly doubted Alyssa would know the answer and he didn’t want to create a sexual situation that might be unfulfilling for either of them.
Disciplining himself to ignore his base desires, Morgan gingerly assisted Alyssa into the bed. Shrugging off his robe, he quickly slipped between the sheets.
He realized his mistake the instant his bare leg touched her naked thigh. Alyssa’s nightgown was bunched up about her waist, and Morgan groaned aloud when he realized she was naked underneath. Rapidly he removed his leg. It didn’t help. He could still feel the heat from her warm body. She smelled like fresh roses, and he longed to reach over and pull her into his arms.
Morgan rolled onto his back, shifting his position and moving as close to the edge of the bed as possible. He silently thanked Tristan for purchasing such an enormous bed. If he put enough distance between himself and Alyssa, Morgan reasoned, he would be able to control himself. He might even be able to sleep for a few hours.
They lay in tense silence for several long moments. Alyssa waited expectantly for Morgan to turn and gather her in his arms. When she realized he wasn’t going to, she turned toward him and came up on her side, balancing herself on her elbow.
It was nearly impossible to see his face in the dim light, but Alyssa could hear his ragged breathing, and felt the waves of tension emanating from his stiff body.
“Morgan?” she asked softly.
She heard his quick intake of breath. “Yes,” he answered sharply.
Now that she had his attention, Alyssa was in a quandary, unsure how to proceed. “I . . . I’ve decided to accompany you to Ramsgate Castle tomorrow morning,” she said lamely.
Morgan smiled into the darkness. “I’m glad,” he remarked, knowing a scene could be avoided in the morning because he had never had any intention of leaving the manor without his bride. Alyssa sighed softly and squirmed closer.
Taking a deep breath, Morgan tried to concentrate on the green velvet bed hangings faintly visible in the semidarkness. Methodically he counted the swags of trim in an effort to focus his mind on something, anything, besides his lovely, half-naked wife.
“Morgan?”
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m cold,” Alyssa lied, hoping he would take the hint. She desperately wanted to be held in his arms.
“I’ll get another blanket,” he volunteered quickly. Morgan rose from the bed and walked to the chair by the fireplace. He retrieved the quilt Alyssa had left there, but on his way back to the bed he stumbled in the darkness, banging his shin on the edge of the large satinwood bed frame.
Alyssa sat up abruptly, listening to Morgan’s loud, colorful swearing. “Morgan? What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I am fine,” he replied, gritting his teeth. The pain in his leg successfully cleared his mind of visions of seduction. “Is there anything else you require while I am up, madam? A piece of fruit, a sip of wine, a drink of water, perhaps?”
“No, nothing else,” she replied softly.
He practically threw the blanket at her before yanking the covers back and falling into the bed. He again took a strategic position on the far side of the bed, his leg throbbing with pain.
“Good night, madam,” he said.
“Good night,” she echoed hastily. She waited for several minutes, gathering her courage before she spoke again. “Morgan?”
“Go to sleep,” he growled, dipping his shoulder and presenting his back to Alyssa. He made a great show of noisily puffing his pillows before burrowing down and pulling the coverlet up to his chin.
His dismissive gesture effectively silenced her. Grimly she arranged the extra quilt over herself. Imitating his actions, she rolled to her side, reluctantly shifting her body so her back was toward him. She felt the tears rise up in her throat, but swallowed them. She refused to cry, refused to admit how hurt she was by his coldness. He is just tired, Alyssa reasoned. He needs time to adjust to our married state. Eventually Alyssa managed to convince herself their marriage was not a colossal mistake. Exhaustion overcame anxiety and she fell asleep.
Morgan lay awake long into the night, listening to her deep, steady breathing. He wished he hadn’t been so curt, but it was unavoidable. It was impossible for Morgan to hold and caress Alyssa without making love to her, and Morgan felt frustrated by his ignorance. He didn’t know if it was safe in her pregnant condition and he would take no risks with her or the child. He decided Alyssa would be examined by the family physician as soon as he could be summoned to Ramsgate Castle. The first question the duke would ask the good doctor was the state of his wife’s health. And the next would be about marital relations.
Chapter Sixteen
Morgan came awake slowly, the dream still fresh in his subconscious. His hand gently caressed smooth, soft skin. His body felt hot, his manhood swollen. He pushed his hips against the smooth softness, thrusting rhythmically. He heard a moan of pleasure and thought, for an instant, the noise came from his own throat, but he heard the sound again, louder this time, and it brought him completely awake.
Alyssa was sprawled over him, her arms entwined around his neck. The erect nipples on her full, creamy breasts touched his chest sensuously through the silky fabric of her nightdress. The nightgown was bunched about her waist, and she was gloriously naked beneath it. Her legs were slightly parted, and his hand was between her thighs. Morgan thought he would explode with wanting as her hips moved instinctively against his exploring fingers. Passion engulfed him and his fingers slipped deeper inside her warmth.
She moaned again, arching herself against him. Morgan reached over to cup her full breasts with his other hand, moving her onto her back. He ran his hand caressingly down her soft body, but stopped abruptly when he encountered the swelled mound of her belly. He sat up suddenly, removing his hands from her flesh, guiltily rearranging her nightclothes.
Morgan concentrated on slowing his ragged breathing while Alyssa mumbled in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.
“No more of that, my girl,” he said hoarsely, deliberately distancing himself. He straightened the bedcovers, tucking the blankets firmly around his sleeping wife. “I must wait until I know it is safe for you and our babe.”
After Morgan was certain Alyssa was sleeping soundly, he left the bed, relieved to see dawn fast approaching. He donned his robe and crossed the room to the cold hearth. He lit a satisfactory blaze before seating himself in the same overstuffed chair Alyssa had occupied the previous evening. Distracted, he picked up the book of Shakespeare sonnets.
After rereading the same line three times, he gave up the attempt.
Resting his head against the soft, cushioned back, he fell asleep.
When Alyssa woke several hours later, she was alone in the room. She looked automatically toward the empty side of the bed, searching for confirmation that Morgan had indeed shared the large bed for the night. The indentation of his head was visible on the pillow, and Alyssa ran her hand caressingly over the spot. Vague, sensual feelings entered her body and she shook her head sharply, chasing away the most erotic dream. Morgan touching her, caressing her. Her sexual daydreaming was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock on the bedchamber door.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Mavis said with a smile, answering Alyssa’s bid to enter. The older woman set a small breakfast tray with warm toast, fresh fruit, and a steaming pot of hot chocolate on the bedside table next to Alyssa. “The duke told me I was not to awaken you, but it was getting late, and I thought you might need my help.” Mavis gave Alyssa a sly smile. “Of course the duke said you needed your rest. I imagine you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Alyssa blushed hotly, wanting very much to throw the covers over her head and hide. If only Mavis knew the truth.
“Did the duke say what time we are leaving this morning?” Alyssa inquired, biting into the toast Mavis had brought.
“No. He said it wasn’t a long journey, and he hoped to leave before noon, if possible. I believe he was waiting until you were up. Very considerate of him, don’t you agree?”
“Mmmmmm . . . that certainly describes my husband accurately,” Alyssa responded sarcastically. She brushed the crumbs from her meager breakfast off her hands and set the empty tray on the coverlet next to her. “Come and show me what wonderful new traveling costume you picked out for me, Mavis. We don’t want to keep the good duke waiting, now do we?”
An hour later, Alyssa strolled into the morning room, interrupting Morgan at his breakfast. The small dining table was scattered with papers from the folders she had given him yesterday, and he was intently studying each page as he absently chewed his food. Alyssa cleared her throat loudly to gain his attention.
Morgan stood up instantly, pleased to note his lovely bride was dressed for traveling. Lack of sleep had left him in no mood to argue with Alyssa if she had changed her mind about leaving with him today.
“Good morning,” he said courteously, holding out the chair on his right. “Have you breakfasted yet?”
“Mavis brought me some toast,” Alyssa answered, looking with longing at the remains of his hearty meal.
Morgan smiled at her expression, quickly gathered the papers up from the table, and rang for Perkins.
“The duchess is ready for her breakfast now, Perkins. And please bring in another fresh pot of coffee,” Morgan instructed the butler.
Alyssa sat quietly at the table, her eyes downcast. Morgan noticed she nervously twisted her wedding ring around on her finger. “Did you sleep well?” she blurted out.
Morgan raised an eyebrow in question over her sudden outburst. No, Alyssa, he wanted to tell her, I did not sleep well. My body was hard and throbbing and aching for release. Instead, he politely lied. “Very well. And you, my dear?”
“Just fine,” Alyssa responded, her voice trailing off. Except for a most erotic dream, she mentally added.
They were relieved of the burden of further strained conversation by the arrival of Perkins with a large tray full of steaming hot food. Alyssa concentrated on consuming every last bite of the marvelous breakfast, while Morgan watched in amazed silence as she devoured the meal. She glanced up as she finished the last of her eggs and caught his eye. Embarrassed, she slowly lowered her fork.
“I guess I was hungrier than I thought,” she said, her cheeks reddening.
Morgan grinned broadly. “Do you want me to have Perkins bring you another plate?”
She paused for a moment before answering, knowing he was teasing her. “That depends,” Alyssa responded thoughtfully. “How long do you think it will be before we can have luncheon?”
Morgan chuckled. “I shall tell Mavis to pack an enormously large basket of treats so you may indulge yourself on the drive whenever the mood strikes.”
“That would be delightful.” She eyed him shyly. “When do you wish to depart?”
Morgan shrugged his shoulders. “Anytime you are ready. I shall tell Perkins to have Ned hitch up the phaeton.”
“We are taking Tristan’s new carriage with us?”
“Merely borrowing,” Morgan corrected. “I shall have one of my servants return it tomorrow. It is the only carriage here, and I think it is preferable to having you mounted on horseback for the entire journey.”
“But what about Mavis? There is only room in the phaeton for the two of us.”
“I shall send a coach to bring Mavis and the remainder of your belongings to Ramsgate Castle tomorrow. I’ve already told Mavis about these arrangements.”
“I see,” Alyssa responded slowly. She rose from her chair and stood by the large bay window, looking out onto the lawn. “Is there anything else?”
“Well, I did instruct Mavis to pack a small overnight satchel for you. There is very little space in the phaeton for luggage.”
Morgan watched her rigid back, knowing she was upset and not certain as to the cause. “Is something wrong, Alyssa?”
She turned around to face him. “No . . . not exactly. I have always been the one who makes all the decisions, all the arrangements. I am unaccustomed to someone else giving the orders.”
“You are my wife now, Alyssa. It is my responsibility to see to your welfare,” Morgan stated firmly. “And that of our child.”
His responsibility. It was the most depressing thing Alyssa could imagine. She felt the tears well up in her eyes and turned away from him again. It was hardly a secret why they had married, yet hearing him state it so plainly hurt, especially after his distant behavior last night in their bedchamber.
“I shall be ready to leave shortly,” she said, walking sedately past him, moving steadily toward the door. She hoped desperately he would reach out and stop her, longing for some degree of physical contact between them, but he did not.
Morgan resisted the impulse to hold her, not certain if his gesture would further upset her. He was puzzled by her attitude, which was nothing new, but he did not want to unwittingly cause her additional grief.
Alyssa stood in the large entrance hall, flanked by Mavis and Perkins. She bid a hasty good-bye to Mavis, and then faced Perkins. She spoke to the butler for a long time before reaching out and hugging him tightly. Morgan glanced away, feeling like a voyeur witnessing this intimate moment. He realized for the first time how difficult it must be for Alyssa to be separated from the only people she cared about.
“Ready?” she asked in a breathless voice. They all walked out into the bright sunlight. Morgan assisted Alyssa into the carriage, and then turned to take her satchel from Perkins. The butler looked him squarely in the eyes.
“You’ll take proper care of her, Your Grace.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I will, Perkins,” Morgan promised solemnly. He climbed into the carriage as Alyssa made her farewells to Ned. With a final wave to the small group, Morgan and Alyssa departed.
“We will come to visit Tristan and Caroline often,” Morgan remarked kindly. “You shall have many opportunities to see Perkins and the others again.”
“I know.” Alyssa sniffled. “Please forgive my foolishness. Perkins has always been very special to me.” She gave a small laugh and wiped her eyes. “When I was a young girl, I used to lie in my bed at night wishing Perkins were my father. A little odd, don’t you agree, for the daughter of the viscount to long to be the child of the butler?”
Alyssa paused a moment as the deeply buried childhood feelings of vulnerability and abandonment surfaced. “Perkins always tried to make me feel special—wanted. I shall never forget him for his kindness,” she whispered.
Morgan reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, marveling over how she had emerged from such a neglected childhood to become a fine, determined woman.
They remained quiet for the majority of the journey to Portsmouth, with only an occasional comment about the fine weather. Morgan drove at a sedate pace, in no hurry, and the gentle rocking motion of the finely sprung carriage made Alyssa sleepy. She dozed fitfully, and was awakened when Morgan announced they had reached the grounds of Ramsgate.
Alyssa caught her breath as she looked through the tall oak trees and saw the castle. Its huge stone walls glistened in the autumn sun, and the ornately decorated Gothic spires disappeared majestically into the sky. As they drove down the gravel drive, Alyssa felt her heart beat faster with each turn of the wheel. She was not sure she was ready for this. The castle was enormous, stretching on endlessly. Alyssa felt overwhelmed.
Morgan pulled up in front of the elegant Ionic portico at the front entrance of the castle, and Alyssa craned her neck heavenward to gain a full view of the medallion crest of a lion’s head carved in stone above the doorway.
“My grandmother’s family coat of arms,” Morgan told her. “Tristan and I have long suspected it was her reward for putting up with my grandfather.”
Alyssa had only a moment to mumble an unintelligible remark before three footmen, splendidly garbed in crimson and gold livery, raced down the steps to assist them out of the carriage. They were quickly followed by a stout, formally garbed man who Morgan introduced as Burke, butler of the castle.
“I am honored, Your Grace,” Burke said ceremonially, bowing to Alyssa in welcome. “We were all very pleased when the duke sent word he was bringing the new duchess here to Ramsgate.”
Alyssa smiled in greeting, uncertain what to do. Was it proper etiquette for a duchess to shake the hand of one’s butler when meeting him for the first time? She didn’t have much time to dwell on that problem, because Morgan clasped her elbow and was propelling her through the large, ornate doors and into the gigantic entrance hall.
Alyssa swallowed hard when she saw the reception awaiting her. Double rows of servants lined the hall, crisply attired in various uniforms that proclaimed their positions within the household. They were standing in an almost military fashion, their expressions blank, yet all eyes Were turned expectantly toward her.
“I should like to introduce select members of the staff,” Burke began, but he halted in midsentence when he got his first full-figured look at Alyssa and realized her pregnant condition. She was impressed with the way he regained his composure, stumbling only slightly as he introduced the housekeeper, Mrs. Keenly.
Alyssa took hold of Mrs. Keenly’s hand, graciously greeting the older woman. “I should like to meet all of the staff please, Mrs. Keenly,” Alyssa requested with as much dignity as she could muster. To hell with proper etiquette, Alyssa recklessly decided. She would give the staff enough gossip to keep them buzzing for a week.
It took almost an hour for Alyssa to greet each of the servants, and Morgan watched with growing admiration as they were captivated by her quiet dignity. By the time she finished, Alyssa had succeeded in impressing them all. Morgan felt very proud.
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