Madeleine's Christmas Wish (7 page)

G
eorges hadn't meant to frighten Madeleine so much. He went around the table, drawing her up and to him. She trembled in his arms. “Shh. If he wants the title and the land, he won't act this soon.” He would not tell Madeleine that the type of auction the brothel would have held for her would have taken time to plan, and Coupe could afford to take his time. “Come, let's be on our way. We have a long night ahead of us.”

They reached Dover shortly after dawn, having talked until the possibilities of what could occur were exhausted as was she. “Wake up, my love. You'll be able to have a bath at the Ship. After which, we'll break our fast, and walk around the town.”

She blinked. “Have you slept at all?”

He hadn't, but she didn't need to know that. “Yes. I dozed. I'll sleep more when we reach Calais.”

“
Merci beaucoup
for all the care you have taken of me.” She smiled shyly before kissing his cheek.

He wanted to draw her into his arms, but no. He would not have her feel beholden to him. If—when she came to love him—it would be because of himself, not what he'd done for her. “There is no need to thank me, you are my wife.”

Two hours later, they strolled through the town and the docks. Next to a pie shop, a sailor tipped his hat, dropping a piece of paper. Georges covered it with his foot. “I believe those rectangular pastries are a local meat pie called coffyns. Would you like to try one?”

“Oh, yes. I would.”

Damn, why didn't he wear more fobs? Oh well, he never used his quizzing glass anyway. He dropped it to the pavement. When he bent to pick it and the paper up, he was surprised the quizzer wasn't broken. He opened the door for Madeleine, before reading the note.

Clear.

God or fate, perhaps both, were with him. Crumpling the message, he put it into his greatcoat pocket and paid for the pie she'd ordered.

Madeleine took a bite. “Oh, this is heavenly.”

“The Rutherfords like them as well.”

“I think Lady Rutherford has superb taste.”

A few hours later, as they were making their way back to the Ship for an early dinner, a flash of blue in a jewelry store caught his eye. Georges stopped, stared at the bracelet, and sent up a prayer of thanks. Another piece found.

Holding the door for Madeleine, he said, “I wish to look in here.”

He waited patiently, perusing the cases as he waited for the clerk, who was with another customer, to approach. Experience had taught him being too eager always raised the price.

“May I help you, Mr. . . . ?”

“Smyth.”

The clerk smiled. “Mr. Smyth, is there anything in particular you'd like to see?”

One of Madeleine's brows arched slightly higher, but other than that, she betrayed nothing.

“We”—he slid his arm around her waist—“are on our way to Paris for our honeymoon. I saw a pair of pearl earrings in your window. May we see them?”

As the clerk walked to the window display, Georges bent his head, placing his lips close to her ear. “When he comes back, tell him you love the earrings, and express interest in sapphires.”

She gazed at him for a moment, then her lips rose the slightest bit, as if she intended to enjoy herself. “Very well.”

He stood back as Madeleine asked to see almost every piece of jewelry in the store. Each time the clerk thought he'd made a sale, she changed her mind.

Finally he brought out the sapphire-and-diamond bracelet. “You might like this, ma'am.”

The man clasped it on her wrist.

“You're right. It does look beautiful.” She held out her arm to Georges. “What do you think, my dear?”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin as if considering the piece. “I agree it looks good on you, but what is the price?”

“
Oh!
” she uttered in an outraged tone. Georges almost laughed as she flounced. “All you ever think of is the cost. I suppose I shall have to make do with the pearl earrings you originally saw or maybe nothing at all. I know how you dislike spending money.”

She turned to walk out the door and the clerk blanched. “Madam, I'm sure I can offer a good price on the earrings and the bracelet. After all”—he glanced at Georges desperate for him to agree—“a lady on her honeymoon should be spoiled.”

“I suppose you're correct. I don't wish her to be unhappy.”

In the end, he paid half of the bracelet's worth, and a reduced price for the earrings as well.

Madeleine tucked her arm into Georges, leaning against him. “Thank you, my dear. I shall always cherish this gift.”

The moment they were in their chamber at the Ship, she gave a little skip, and her eyes danced with pleasure. “I think I did well, don't you?”

He picked her up, swinging her around, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You were better than perfect, but how did you know it was that piece I wanted?”

She laughed. “It matches the earrings you gave me to wear for Pauline's wedding.”

He bent his head, kissing her slowly, reveling in Madeleine's response as she returned his caress. “It is part of the same set.”

“They must be important.” She caught his gaze. “What happened to them?”

He sat down, pulling her onto his lap. “My father sent us ahead of him to England. As you know, he never made it, but he had one person he trusted and a scheme to enable his family to avoid having to make and scrape. In addition to funds he'd smuggled to England previously, there was a seventeenth-century parure. It was sold. I've spent the last ten years searching for all the pieces.”

Her eyes glowed with excitement. “How much more of it is missing?”

“A bracelet, then the set will be complete again.” Georges kissed her gently on the lips. “If it hadn't been for you, I would have paid a considerably higher price.”

Madeleine smiled, and he'd never been so happy. “I'm glad I could help.”

He needed her, not only as his wife and the mother of their children, but as his lover. She completed him in a way no other woman could.

Georges began his seduction slowly, again pressing his lips to her graceful neck. She sank into him as he moved to her mouth. She opened for him, tangling her tongue with his. Merely kissing her was heaven. He pressed the tips of his fingers along Madeleine's spine, from her neck to her waist, and she moaned. How long would he have to wait until he could make her completely his?

Her fingers played with the hair at his nape. When he cupped her breast, circling the nipple, she pressed into him.

Yes. Come to me, my love.

His body tightened, the primitive beast inside him urging him to take her now, but his wife's seduction would require all his finesse. The other women he'd been with had wanted him more than he'd wanted them. Not so with Madeleine. Even if she loved him, he'd have to prove he could protect her and her family, or she'd leave.

The last thing he wanted to do was stop, but he forced himself to lift his head. “They will be here with our dinner soon.”

Non.
This could not end so soon. Georges's kisses enthralled her, taking her into a different world. She had no idea how long they'd been kissing. Almost as if someone had splashed cold water in her face, she came out of her enchantment. He'd had no trouble keeping track of the time, ending their—their whatever it was called. And he was the one who remembered his promise when she would have allowed him to do more. Was it his word that made him stop, or did he not really love her? And why did it matter when she had not wanted this marriage in the first place?

He set her on her feet, and a few moments later their meal arrived, and she ate, but could not remember what it was or how it had tasted. She must not allow herself to fall in love with him. That path led only to heartbreak and misery.

 

 

Two hours later, Madeleine stood at the rail of the ship sailing toward France. The night was so clear stars filled the sky leaving hardly any room for the moon. “It's beautiful.”

Georges held her securely, her back against his chest. “
You
are beautiful.”

If this kept up, she would lose herself. All she wanted was for everything to be as it was before Papa died. Then she could stay here with Georges forever. “How long will the passage take?”

“With the wind being strong and at our back, less than three hours.” His lips brushed the side of her cheek. “The
diligence
departs at eight in the morning. We'll arrive in Paris shortly after the Dijon
diligence
departs, giving us a day in Pairs before continuing our journey.”

“And Beaune?”

“If all goes as planned, four days after we depart Calais.”

She burrowed into his warmth. What would he say when she asked him to take her mother and sister to England, but refused to go with him?

Ships crowded the docks, as she and Georges made their way down the pier, to the
hôtel
Le Chariot Royal, where Georges had reserved rooms. Madeleine glanced around; she'd never seen so many boats at one time. Then her heart dropped to her stomach as fear gripped her.

Georges tugged her closer, and whispered, “What is it?”

She turned her head away from the ill-kept ship next to them, pulling the hood of her cloak over her hair more fully. “That is the boat.”

“The one that brought you to England?”

Afraid to speak, she nodded.

“Did anyone see you?”

A shiver ran through her, as she attempted to quicken her pace. “I do not think so. They were looking in the other direction.”

“Don't run. It will only draw attention. I doubt they'll be anywhere near our hotel, but we must be careful.” His fingers on her waist tightened. “I'll protect you.”

Whether it was her confidence in Georges or that they'd finally turned onto the main street, she didn't know, but the urge to flee left her.

Several minutes later, they arrived at the hotel, and were greeted by the owner himself. “Monsieur le Marquis, you will find wine in your chamber, and servants to assist you.” The elderly man's lips pursed together. “Are you sure you do not wish to travel in my carriage? It is much more comfortable, and we would have you to Paris in thirty-six hours.”

“I would very much prefer to do so.” Georges gave a slight smile. “Unfortunately, my business will not wait. Perhaps the next time.”

“Very well.” The man bowed slightly. “
Le petit-déjeuner
will be brought to you at six-thirty in the morning.”

A porter led Madeleine and Georges up a large curved staircase then down a corridor to a door. The man opened it, handing Georges the key. The room contained a square table set in the center and next to the fireplace was a chaise.

A young woman emerged through a door on the opposite end of the parlor from the fireplace, and bobbed a curtsey. “Madame, if you will come with me? I have everything ready.”

Madeleine entered the chamber to find one large bed, a dressing table, and two chairs. Surely there was a mistake, though the proprietor did not look like a man who made them. Where would Georges sleep?

After she changed into her nightgown, the maid took down her hair, setting the pins neatly on the dressing table. The back of Madeleine's neck prickled, and she gazed into the mirror. Dressed in a plain, dark green robe, Georges leaned against the doorway, watching. A smile played around his well-formed lips.

He strolled forward and addressed the maid. “You may depart. Be back in the morning to assist Madame.”

Without a word, the girl took herself away.

With the tips of his fingers, he rubbed Madeleine's neck, moving them up to her scalp. “I love your hair. It reminds me of moonbeams on the ocean.” The sleeve of her nightgown slipped down, and his lips took its place. “Your skin is as soft as silk.”

Shivers ran down her spine as he kissed a spot below her ear she'd not known was sensitive. She stared into the mirror. He bunched her curls in one hand, and traced her jaw with the tip of his tongue.

“
Mon trésor.
” His palms cupped her breasts, gently kneading.

Madeleine's breasts grew heavy, and she closed her eyes. All the way here, he'd treated her as something to be cherished. How easy it would be to give in to him, let him make love to her, and deal with the consequences later. Yet she could not. It would not be fair to either of them.

Almost as if he could read her thoughts he stopped, picked up the comb, and carefully drew it through her hair, untangling the knots.

“Come. We have an early morning. It is time for you to sleep.” Georges picked her up, carried her to the bed, set her down on the warmed sheets, then slid in next to her, pulling up the covers. “Good night,
mon amour.
”

“You're sleeping
here?
” Somehow her protest did not come out as she'd wished. Her voice was much too breathy. Nor was her body cooperating. Even though she should not, Madeleine craved him, his warmth. Her throat tightened as she shoved down her tears. If only their marriage could last she would be the happiest woman in France.

He held Madeleine so her back was against his chest. His palm was warm on her stomach. “I pledged not to consummate our marriage until you were ready. I did not promise not to sleep with you.”

She should insist he find another bed, except he was correct. He was keeping to the only promise he'd made other than his marriage vows.

Her body almost throbbed with a strange need. What would it be like to have him do more?

Mère Marie dans au ciel!
She could not think like that!

She prayed not to want him, and tried to remain awake, yet when she opened her eyes, the lamp next to the bed had been lit, and she was sprawled across his chest.