Love Entwined (21 page)

The crewmen turned beet red and bowed to her, making a hasty retreat.

Roman chuckled. “They are not used to having a woman on board. I hope these are to your liking, my Beauty. I chose the smallest clothes I could find among the piles in the hold.”

She ran her hand down an exquisite gold-painted lace sari. It was the white silk gown that made her cry. It had an empire waist and reminded her of the dress Margaux had worn to the ball at Versailles. She had been so excited about the ball, talking about it weeks before, never knowing it would be the last ball she would ever attend.

“Sweetheart, I chose it because it is most like the gowns you are accustomed to, but I will take it away if you do not like it.”

Jacqueline turned into his embrace. “Oh my love, it is beautiful, I will wear it.”

He detached the bodice of her cream-colored gown from the skirt, soiled now with dirt and grass stains. Kissing the swell of her breasts above the chemise, he unhooked the clasps of the skirt, letting it slide down her legs. The sachet lay in the middle of the skirt piled around her legs. He looked up at her.

“I saved it.” Her tears began anew.

Roman brought out the sachet. When he opened the pouch, the sapphire and diamond ring fell into the palm of his hand. He slipped the heavy ring on her finger.

“We are one, Jacqueline, bound together.
Je t’aime, mon amour, et je t’aimerai toujours.
” His lips brushed hers as he promised to love her forever.

“
Je t’aime avec tout mon cœur, pour toujours
.” She returned his vow of love, for always and forever.

He lifted the chemise over her head and carried her to the tub.

She lay back and submerged herself. When she lifted her head above the water, he was undressing.

When he sat in the tub behind her with a sigh, she laid her head against his chest. His legs were like mountain peaks above the waterline. She ran her hands up and down the curling hair.

He piled her hair atop her head and used the shampoo to form a foamy white cap. The aroma of vanilla beans wafted through the air. She slipped down his chest into the water to rinse. The movement sent erotic tingles over her skin.

He took the cloth and rubbed her all over. The warm friction of the cloth against her body was a soothing massage. She held her breath as his hand went into the water. She parted her legs under his gentle downward strokes, melting into him.

She felt so much better when yesterday’s fiery ash was sluiced from her body; she was clean. She held his hand and turning on his lap, she placed her legs on either side of him and his hard warmth was against her. She took the cloth from him and stroked his chest.

“Your body is magnificent,
capitaine
.” She kneaded his ridged abdomen with the cloth, traveling down below the waterline as she moved against him.

“Jacqueline…”

“Sometimes you are so gentle, other times you are a raging beast inside of me,” she whispered in his ear, gripping him with the cloth under water and pulling gently on him. “But always what I need.”

He lifted her up and brought her down on him. Gripping her hips, he guided her movements as the water swirled between their bodies.

She held onto his shoulders, gasping as he filled her up and then took up the rhythm, riding him faster and faster. Her breasts were slippery in the palms of his hands; her nipples were hard little nubs of sensation. When he pulled on one nipple, she felt it where he speared her. She leaned back and ground her hips against him and he thrust into her one last time, sending her over the edge.

* * * *

The portals were washed gray. Rain slashed steadily in driving sheets across the panes as they ate a dinner of jellied eels, Shepherd’s pie and black pudding.

“Deer run free in the valleys in Yorkshire and there is a hidden dell with a lake where we will go swimming.”

“Yorkshire,” Jacqueline mused.

Roman leaned across the desk to kiss her. “Roll that on your tongue once more, Beauty.”

“Green valleys and forests, it sounds lovely. I can’t wait to see it. Margaux and I would race against each other in the Seine…” her voice trailed off.

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“I am going to build you a mansion on that land, Beauty. Our children will play in the woodlands and swim in their own rivers.”

“Oh Roman, we will have a family of our own.” She hugged him then, for reminding her that even death could not stop the miraculous cycle of life.

He pulled a flat box out of the desk drawer and set it in front of her. He motioned for her to open it.

She grinned at him, knowing he loved to play this game of surprises on her. She lifted the lid and stared, speechless.

The large rectangular-shaped sapphire was bordered by starburst diamonds that were each at least a carat in weight. A chain of diamonds looped around it.

The matching sapphire earrings dangled from delicate diamond posts. The large sapphire on her ring finger completed the set.

He chuckled and that brought her out of her reverie.

She delicately picked up the necklace. The jewels winked in the lamplight.

“They are
superbes
. I have never seen the like. Where did you get them?”

“Shah Alam, the leader of the Maratha Empire in India, is a friend of mine. There has been much dissension in his country. The people fight among themselves to be the dominant power even as the British East India Company secures nearly all of India in trade.

“Alam thought I was helpful in communications on this last trip. It would have been a dishonor not to accept the jewels. Do you think he knew I would have need of them as a gift for my bride-to-be?”

She lunged at him from across the table, throwing her arms around his neck. “They are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.”

He gathered her in his arms and laid her down among the furs on the bed. A pile of clothes grew on the floor and when they were finally free of them, he sank down on top of her, nestling between her legs.

She wrapped her legs around him and his kisses traveled down her neck, her collarbone. She sighed when he laved greedily at one breast, then the other.

“I can’t get enough of you, Beauty. I could eat you up,” he growled and nipped her belly.

She squealed and tried to push him away, but his hand covered her stomach. When he reached the juncture between her legs, she knew he meant to do just what he said.

He cupped her buttocks in his hands and began to feast on her in earnest. He took one nether lip, suckled, and teased the other before thrusting his tongue deep inside of her, flicking it across the sensitive nub within.

Mon Dieu
, he knew what he was about.

She gripped his head. It was as if he had brought the sun into her core, heat spread from within and burned her. When she climaxed, Roman burrowed into her, he would not leave a drop unattended. He entered her slowly and tears welled in her eyes.

“
Âme Soeur
.” It was much more than what he made her feel. There was such adoration in his touch. He worshipped her with his body.

“My love.” He cradled her in his arms and took her once more.

The Pool of London, England – July 19, 1789

Jacqueline was in the bath when they arrived in port.

She dressed in the white empire waist gown and the sapphires Roman had given her. Ready to step onto this new land she’d studied every day this week on the hand-woven map, she hurried to catch her first glimpse of London.

Now, on this windy, overcast morning, she stood at the ship’s rail staring down at the chaos all around her. The crew ran back and forth with various goods, using ropes and pulleys to unload the bigger crates.

Roman stood on the docks, bargaining in Spanish with the jewel merchants. She did not know what he was saying, but the way his lips moved made her think of the way they moved over her.

She walked further along the rail. The harbor was alive with languages she had never heard before. A loud group of merchants on the wharf caught her attention and she turned to listen, watching as they gestured to each other.

“Phillipe, what language are they speaking?”

“They speak Portuguese, Mademoiselle. They argue over the price of the black stallion.” His stark white teeth gleamed in contrast to his dark skin. His African accent brought thickness to each word.

Though it was unspoken, she knew Phillipe, who always seemed to be nearby, acted as her bodyguard when Roman was not around.

They laughed at the scowling face of the man who must have paid more than he wanted to for the spirited charger stamping its hooves and making ready to bolt.

Someone was watching her.

She turned her face toward the wind and saw a parasol threatening to take flight further down the docks. Its pink ruffles fluttered in the breeze as the bearer attempted to get the parasol under control. Blonde curls whipped about an unseen face, and then the wind shifted.

She smiled; the parasol would not be lost, after all.

The lady turned and lifted the parasol to look at her, but Jacqueline was too far away to make out facial features. She moved along the rail without a word to Phillipe. The woman turned away.

She couldn’t say why, but felt sure that this lady had been watching her. The lady stepped into the crowd, the pink parasol bobbing through a sea of chaos, its bright color swallowed up by the drab, working class colors of the docks.

“Welcome to England, my love.” Roman took her hand and they departed the docks in a coach.

She craned her neck out of the coach window. “It is mad here, as it is in Paris.”

* * * *

The coach stopped in front of the Gunwalers Inn.

The tavern seemed a dim cave until her eyes became accustomed to the dark. They were standing in a large, noisy hall. Lanterns hung from the ceiling beams. The hearty aroma of a spicy stew wafted over to them as a woman with an ample bosom wound her way through the tables.

“Cap’n, you be a sight for sore eyes! And back with a lovely missus, I see. What be your name, sweetie?” the woman said.

“Jacqueline. It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame,” she said.

Roman kissed the woman’s hand. “Jacqueline Bouveau St. Clair, my intended. Jacqueline, this is Biddy McIntyre. She makes the best stew in all of England.”

“You came all the way from France, did you, dearie?” Biddy gave her a hug and turned to Roman. “And here I was thinkin’ you were a comin’ to take me sailin’ round the world at last!”

“And leave John to fend for himself? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Och, and if I had those dimples to gaze at night and day, Cap’n, it would be worth it for my old seaman to cook his own supper.” Biddy led them to a table by the window. “Well dearie, you’ve got the most handsome man in all of England, you do!” She left them, promising to be right back.

The servers bustled about, balancing trays laden with hot food, leaving mouth-watering aromas in their wake.

A portly but nimble man shook Roman’s hand. “Cap’n, good to have you back. Have you those spices from the East with you?”

“John, good to see you.” Roman made the introductions before answering the tavern owner’s question. “Indeed I do have your order. Jamie is in the back now.” The tavern owner shook his hand and went through the double doors into the kitchen.

A server brought a tankard of ale for Roman and cider for her. Biddy followed with steaming bowls of stew, custard and clotted cream.

“Tomorrow we ride to Windsor Castle,” Roman said.

“Will I meet King George?”

“He is in residence and has requested a report on the developments in France.” he took her hand. “He will want to know you are safe. He and your father were very good friends, you know.”

“Is that why you came to France, to take us away?”

“Yes, sweetheart. We had just returned from India when the king charged me to bring his old friend Claude back safely to England. Your father was preparing to leave, but it took longer than either of us imagined…”

“His duty to King Louis,” she murmured.

“Claude thought he was doing the right thing, my love. You are bitter, and for now, that is as it should be. It is only one stage of grief. I will be with you through the others as well.”

“I hate him.”

“There are many who hate the king. I do not envy a man who holds such responsibility in France these days. You are my only concern. This won’t be easy, but I would have you come to terms with your anger over this so that you are free to love the new life we build for ourselves in Yorkshire.”

They said no more as Biddy returned to lead them upstairs to a large, rustic room overlooking the harbor. In one corner, the huge tester bed seemed honed from the walls and cradled a charming blue gingham bedspread.

“If you need anything, just call.” Biddy closed the door behind her.

“I feel better just being on English soil.” Jacqueline walked to the window and looked down at the busy street, teeming with people.

Roman was taking off his jacket. “You will want to relax after the voyage. I will order a bath.”

“No,
monsieur
, we can rest later.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Beauty, later you may be too tired for the kind of relaxation I have in mind.”

She moved closer and said against his lips, “You will have as much relaxation as you want later,
capitaine
.” She buttoned up his jacket. “I want to see this land of yours.”

He lifted her against him for a kiss that threatened to change her mind about going out on the town. He let her slide down his hard body and when she opened her eyes, he was wearing a wicked smile. “Very well, Beauty. Ready to see London?”

Gathering her wits for her first jaunt into the famous city, she took his hand and pulled him out the room.

* * * *

Their first stop was Madame Girard’s, an elegant dress shop in the heart of London.

The lady was slight in build, and her large, pixie eyes dominated a small, alabaster face, giving her the look of a faerie queen. She wore her ash-colored hair piled high in a regal tower, which rivaled the headdresses of the ladies at King Louis’ court. It wiggled as Madame Girard talked in her energetic manner.