Intrigued (50 page)
“This gown, madame,
c’est magnifique,”
Orane remarked, undoing the skirt, the petticoat tabs, and the laces to draw the garments down.
c’est magnifique,”
Orane remarked, undoing the skirt, the petticoat tabs, and the laces to draw the garments down.
Autumn stepped from the tangled pile of fabric. “Be very careful with the gown,” she cautioned them. “Remember, it has been worn by four brides in my family and is almost a hundred years old.”
“Never knew a gown could last that long,” Lily observed, bringing a basin of scented warm water for her mistress to bathe in, a small linen towel over her arm.
Orane cocked her head at her mistress questioningly. “The shoes and the stockings, madame?” she asked.
“Most definitely the shoes and the stockings!” Autumn said emphatically with a small laugh. Perhaps one day she would amuse Gabriel by parading about in such provocative garb, but certainly not tonight. Besides, she could not be certain that the king hadn’t told his intimates about her erotic love play. She certainly didn’t want to remind her bridegroom of her wicked past, had he ever heard of her stockings and garters game. She sat down so Orane might remove them, and when she had done so Autumn rose, going to the basin to bathe herself. Then she brushed her teeth, rinsing her mouth with minted water.
Lily brought her a silk chamber robe. Autumn pulled off her chemise, handing it to Orane as she slipped into the robe.
“Will there be anything else, m’lady?” Lily asked as Orane added another log to the fire.
“Nay,” Autumn replied. “You may go, girls. Good night.”
“Are you certain you won’t be wanting anything else, madame?” Lily said. It was after all only early afternoon, despite what her mistress might say.
“You may both have the rest of the day off,” Autumn told them. “Have Becket lay a cold supper in the duke’s bedchamber at sunset.”
“Yes, m’lady,” they chorused and curtsied before hurrying out of her bedchamber.
Autumn looked about the room. It had always been her room when she visited Queen’s Malvern. Once her sisters had shared the room, and before that her mother and her grandmother. Autumn loved the rose velvet bedhangings and draperies. She loved the big oaken bedstead with its linenfold paneling headboard, and the leaded-paned windows that looked out across the green park to the hills beyond. The room was a sanctuary, and now she was to spend her wedding night in it. She wondered if the chamber would ever seem the same again. Then the door in the paneled wall that connected to the bedroom next to it opened and her husband stepped into the room.
“Good night, Dunewood,” he called to his valet, and then he closed the door behind him. He was wearing a silk chamber robe too.
Autumn was silent. She didn’t know what to say, or where or whether she should begin. She worried her lower lip with her teeth. Except for that one time they had kissed and he had fondled her several weeks earlier, they had had aboslutely no physical contact. There had never seemed to be time for it. Then he had disappeared for two weeks. Finally she said, “This is ridiculous, Gabriel. We are not virgins, and I do not know where we should begin.” She laughed nervously.
He walked over to her and undid her garment. Then he gently drew it off her. “I think, madame, we should begin this way.” He stepped back and observed her thoughtfully. Then he sighed. “Yes, you are very beautiful. I can understand both Louis and Charles desiring you, Autumn. You are irresistible.”
“Never mention either of those names in our bedchamber, my lord,” she said, half-angrily. “Remember, you swore to me that you would put the past behind us. I cannot bear it if you do not!”
“Forgive me,” he told her, “but it is difficult to do. I know I promised you, and I am trying, Autumn.”
She began to cry. “How can we make love when I know you are wondering all the time if I am making comparisons? I hated what I had to do with my royal lovers.
I hated it!
I want to be loved again for myself, not because I am a beautiful or desirable creature. Surely there is something about me besides my beauty that has attracted you!” Oh, God, she thought! Her nose would be red with her weeping, and yet she sobbed all the harder, unable to stop.
I hated it!
I want to be loved again for myself, not because I am a beautiful or desirable creature. Surely there is something about me besides my beauty that has attracted you!” Oh, God, she thought! Her nose would be red with her weeping, and yet she sobbed all the harder, unable to stop.
God’s blood, he thought, surprised. He had not realized how vulnerable, how very fragile she was. She had always seemed so strong. He took her into his arms and held her against him. “I’m so sorry, poppet,” he murmured into her ear. “I would not hurt you for the world. I am a foolish, jealous man. I don’t deserve you at all!” Tipping her wet face up to his, he kissed her slowly, deeply, until she relaxed in his embrace and sighed contentedly. When she had calmed herself he said, “Aren’t you going to take my robe off for me, Autumn?”
“Do you want me to?” she asked. “I didn’t want to seem forward.” Her nimble fingers undid the garment, and she slid her hands in to caress his chest. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t a virgin, and he well knew it. She was an experienced woman and she was going to act like one. If it startled him, he would soon be purring like a lion beneath her experienced touch. After all, she had had a husband before she had known her royal lovers. Who was to say Sebastian hadn’t taught her all the skills she possessed? Pushing the chamber robe off his large frame, Autumn bent her head and began to kiss his chest and his torso.
Gabriel groaned, but the sound was definitely one of pleasure. “Do not stop,” he commanded her. “I absolutely forbid you to stop, my bewitching wife.”
She kissed him for a moment more, and then she said, “I must cease, my lord. I am frozen and want to get into bed.” She took him by the hand and led him to their couch.
“Oh, yes,” he agreed. “Let us go to bed, madame.”
Climbing in, Autumn said, “I’ve never been to bed this early in the afternoon except when I was sick.” She drew the coverlet over her naked body and snuggled down against the pillows.
“Neither have I,” he countered, climbing in and leaning his big body over her so he might begin kissing her pretty round breasts.
“Oh, Gabriel!” she cried softly as his mouth closed over a tender nipple and he worried it with his teeth, then his tongue, and then began to draw deeply upon it. His action caused a reaction deep within her nether regions, and she shuddered. Her hands caressed his long back, finding his skin quite soft for a man, yet she could feel the hardness of his muscles beneath the flesh.
His tongue swept up the deep valley between her round breasts. He breathed deeply. “You smell good enough to eat,” he told her, and lay his dark blond head upon her breasts. “I can hardly believe you are mine, Autumn. I have loved you for so long!”
Her hand caressed his head gently. “You hardly knew me,” she said to him.
“I knew everything I had to know that day we first met. You were loyal and loving and brave. Two of those qualities would have been more than enough, but that you possessed all three was a wonder. And then your beauty, my darling—it took my breath away!”
“I thought you were arrogant and horrible,” she told him. “There was Bess and poor old Smythe dead at the hands of your men. I hated you and all of Cromwell’s men. I probably would have shot you had you not retrieved your weapon and I not been in such shock.”
“You may kill me tonight with pleasure, Autumn,” he said to her, lifting his head from her chest and staring into her face. “There are some who would say your wonderful eyes are witch’s eyes, but I love the turquoise and the emerald orbs you look at me with, my darling.” Then he kissed her.
Autumn remembered the time she had wondered what a kiss was like. She recalled how amused Sebastian had been with her over it, and how he had insisted she seek out kisses from all of her suitors to be certain he was the right one. And she had, and he had been. Never since then had she enjoyed a man’s kisses until now. Gabriel kissed her tenderly at first, and then more fiercely and insistently. She felt not just passion in his lips, but also the love he had for her. Emotion such as she hardly remembered began to well up in her breast, and she started to cry again.
Feeling the wetness on her cheeks transferring itself to him, he ceased his kisses and demanded of her, “What is the matter?”
“You love me!” Autumn wept noisily.
“I told you I did,” he said, puzzled.
“You really do!” she sobbed. “You really do love me!”
He began to laugh softly. “Yes, Autumn, I really do,” he agreed. “Oh, sweetheart, has it been so long since anyone loved you that you believed it could not happen again? Those two nameless fellows who used you had no heart, for they are kings and cannot have hearts. But, my darling, I am not a king. I am nothing more than a country gentleman who loves you and wants to make you happy for the rest of your days.” Then he kissed the tears away from her cheeks.
“Oh, God,” Autumn wailed. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Madame,” he teased her, “if this is a ploy to avoid your marital duties, I shall be forced to beat you.”
“No! No!” she cried, and then she realized he was bedeviling her. “Oh, you are a wicked fellow,” she said. Her heart was suddenly much, much lighter. She hadn’t felt this way since Sebastian had died.
“Nay, madame, but here is a wicked fellow most anxious to make your acquaintance,” he said boldly, giving her but a small glimpse of his love lance, which was obviously at the ready.
“You must kiss me again,” she told him boldly, and then she sighed as his lips began to taunt her with their astonishing skill. Autumn closed her eyes and floated, as she suddenly realized she was safe again. Safe and loved. “Don’t ever leave me, Gabriel,” she said as she drew away from him for a moment. It was in that space of time that she comprehended that she was indeed falling in love with him, and the feelng was wonderful!
He understood what she was saying to him, and what it meant. “My father was fifty when I was born,” he told her. “He died when he was eighty, Autumn. I will not leave you, my darling. I will never leave you!” Then he began to kiss her in earnest once again, and when shortly thereafter he entered her body, making them one, Autumn cried a cry of such intense joy that he almost wept that he had been able to bring her such pleasure, for she had certainly given him even more.
And afterwards as they lay contented in each other’s arms, Autumn knew that she had found love once again. This time, she sensed, she would not lose it. This time the love would remain and grow. It would surround them and their children forever and ever. This time she could really let go of Sebastian.
Farewell, my first love,
she whispered in her heart.
Farewell, my first love,
she whispered in her heart.
Adieu, ma cherie,
she heard his voice in her heart a final time. Then Autumn turned back to the man she would love until the end of time and beyond.
she heard his voice in her heart a final time. Then Autumn turned back to the man she would love until the end of time and beyond.
Epilogue
QUEEN’S MALVERN—SUMMER 1663
T
he front lawns at Queen’s Malvern were covered with gaily colored tented pavillions. The back lawns and gardens were filled with people. Skye O’Malley had borne eight children, of whom seven had lived to sire a generation of 49 grandchildren, who in their turn sired 158 great-grandchildren, 302 great-great-grandchildren, and 27 great-great-great-grandchildren as of the summer of 1663. The children of Skye O’Malley were now all deceased, the last and youngest of them, Velvet de Marisco Gordon, having died the previous winter at the age of 84. Twenty-nine of Skye’s grandchildren lived on in their sixties and seventies.
he front lawns at Queen’s Malvern were covered with gaily colored tented pavillions. The back lawns and gardens were filled with people. Skye O’Malley had borne eight children, of whom seven had lived to sire a generation of 49 grandchildren, who in their turn sired 158 great-grandchildren, 302 great-great-grandchildren, and 27 great-great-great-grandchildren as of the summer of 1663. The children of Skye O’Malley were now all deceased, the last and youngest of them, Velvet de Marisco Gordon, having died the previous winter at the age of 84. Twenty-nine of Skye’s grandchildren lived on in their sixties and seventies.
Jasmine, Dowager Duchess of Glenkirk, stood proudly surveying the great crowd of Skye’s descendants. There were O’Flahertys who had traveled from Ireland and O’Flahertys who had come up from Devon. The Earl of Alcester and his family of Edwardses, had come, as had the Southwoods of Lynmouth; young Earl John and her granddaughter, Sabrina, the proud parents of a little son and a baby daughter. The Blakeleys of Blackthorne, the family of Skye’s second daughter, Deirdre, lived nearby and were well represented, as were the Burkes of Clearfields Priory and the Gordons of BrocCairn. There were Leslies, Lindleys, Stuarts, Ashburnes, and Leighs from Scotland, Ireland, and England. Only her daughter Fortune and her family were missing. Fortune, having crossed the Atlantic Ocean once to reach the New World, had vowed never to cross it again.
Jasmine smiled as she viewed her many relations. The size of the growing family, and the civil strife that had plagued England in the past years had only served to separate them. Now she had brought them back together in an effort that had taken her almost two years. Cousins who had never met greeted each other with delight. Faces from different ends of the family spectrum were discovered to look alike. Kerry blue eyes were noted among many of the younger generations. There would even be some matches come out of the gathering, Jasmine suspected.
“You have done it, Mama,” her daughter Autumn said, coming to her mother’s side.
“I have indeed, haven’t I?” Jasmine agreed, putting an arm about her youngest “The lawns will be ruined, but they can be replaced. Seeing all of Mam’s progeny is well worth the damage.”
“Gabriel says he is glad the gathering is here at Queen’s Malvern and not at Garwood Hall,” Autumn chuckled.
“Gabriel has put on a bit of weight, hasn’t he?” Jasmine said.
“Marriage agrees with him, and marriage to him agrees with me, Mama,” Autumn admitted. “How I love him, and I never really believed I should ever love again.”
“Those twins of yours certainly came from love,” Jasmine said with a small chuckle. “I’ve never seen such contented little hell-raisers as Jamie and Simon. God help you when they can walk and talk. Can you tell them apart yet?”
Autumn shook her head. “Not yet, Mama. They are so close that they even begin crying together. They are identical in every way, but hopefully when they are older something will distinguish one from the other.” She looked to her right, where a blanket had been spread upon the grass in the sunshine. There her sons crawled determinedly toward their sisters, Madeline and Margot, who they already adored, while the nursemaids attempted to keep them on the blanket.
Jasmine chuckled. “Just like their grandfather Leslie,” she noted. “They must have their own way.”
“Just like their father,” Autumn replied with a smile. “Thank you, Mama. Thank you for knowing what was right for me, and making me see it through my anger and heartbreak.”
Jasmine hugged her daughter lovingly, her heart almost hurting with the happiness she felt as she looked about her. There was absolutely nothing better than family, she decided with a smile. Mam’s descendants had grown sizably since her mother’s generation, and it might not be possible to keep them together, but she would try.
Gabriel Bainbridge joined them. Standing looking out over the crowd of his wife’s family, he said, “Do you ever think our descendants will rival the stars in the sky as do those of your great-grandmother?”
Autumn looked up at her husband, her jeweled eyes twinkling with laughter. “If you wish it, my lord, then we shall have to produce more bairns than we now possess.”
“Then, madame,” he replied, his own blue eyes filled with love, “we had best adjourn to that delightful rosy bedchamber of ours now, my darling. Neither of us is getting any younger.”
“Sir!” she cried indignantly, “I am as young as I ever was!” Then, turning, she ran off toward the house, her duke in hot pursuit.
“I don’t know why those two always seem to favor the afternoons,” Lily said to Orane as they watchd their master and mistress depart.
Orane giggled. “Love knows no boundaries, Lily, time or otherwise,” she said. “You are married to a Frenchman, so surely you know that.”
Lily’s face softened for a moment. “I do,” she admitted. Then her visage grew disapproving. “But a respectable virgin such as yerself should not,” she scolded.
Orane’s left eyebrow lifted, puzzled. “Whatever made you think that at my age I was a virgin, Lily?” she said. And with a wink she sauntered off toward a group of footmen, her skirts swaying wickedly.
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