Miss Winthorpe's Elopement (17 page)

He took her permission and kneaded and pinched, until she was writhing on the bed, her hips bucking as her body begged to be loved. The sight was making him dizzy with lust and painfully hard.

He fell upon her then, pushing her body back on to the bed, and burying his face against her breasts, letting his teeth do what his fingers had, and sliding his hands between her legs to stroke her, gripping her thighs and spreading them wider, sliding his thumbs up to part the hair and find her most sensitive places. He could feel her heart, beating under his cheek, and waited until he was sure that it must be near bursting it was so loud. And he lifted his face from her breast and swore to her that it would be ever like this between them, if she would trust him and let him love her as she deserved. Then he thrust, filling her with his fingers.

She was hot and tight, and he imagined the feeling
of sliding into her body, night after night, and waking to her sweet smile, day after day, knowing that she would always belong to him. And he heard her cry out and collapse against his hand, sated.

He released her and slipped up her body to kiss her upon the mouth again, and she gasped and laughed. ‘That was magnificent.’

He rolled off her, and said, ‘That was just the beginning. Here, turn over and let me do up your hair.’

‘My hair?’

‘To give me something else to do with you.’ He reached out and pulled the length into a messy braid. Then he wrapped it around her to tease her breasts with the end. ‘For if I do the things I am thinking of, we will get no sleep at all, and you will have a most uncomfortable ride tomorrow.’

She yawned. ‘That sounds very wicked.’ And then she settled back into him, grinding her hips against him, and driving him one step closer to insanity. ‘But I am very tired. Perhaps you may show me tomorrow.’ She yawned again. ‘I think I shall very much want to reclaim my garter.’

‘I sincerely hope so.’ And he lay back against the pillows and cradled his wife’s body to him for a night of delicious agony.

T
he next day, Penny watched her husband dozing on the other side of the carriage. He said he had not slept well, but he did not seem overly bothered by the fact.

She, on the other hand, had had an excellent night’s sleep. Her body could remember every kiss and every touch from the previous evening, and it woke hungry for more. The feeling was aggravated by the gentle rocking of the carriage. She was excited enough by the prospect of the new home that her husband had described to her. But the nearness of him, and the promise that they would be alone together from now on, left her nearly overcome.

Adam started awake, and looked out of the window, smiling and pointing to a marker that he said indicated the edge of his property.

He leaned his head out of the window of the carriage, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. Then he looked
sheepishly back at her. ‘You will find it embarrassingly sentimental of me, I’m sure. But I find that the air smells sweeter in Wales than anywhere in England. And is not the quality of the sunshine brighter than that in the city?’

She thought to comment on the coal burning in London, and the noise of the traffic, which were impediments to the climate and perfectly rational explanations for the changes he described. If the Welsh air smelled of anything, she suspected it was sheep, for there were flocks in many of the pastures they were passing. She smiled at him. ‘Black sheep?’

He grinned at her and nodded. ‘Perhaps it is symbolic.’ He looked critically at the flocks. ‘But there are not as many as there should be. It was a hard winter, with a late spring and a dry summer.’ He shook his head.

She looked out the window at the land they were passing. The year had obviously been difficult. The fields and gardens were not as green as she expected them to be, nor the crops as large. But the tenants appeared happy; as the carriage passed, people in the fields looked up and smiled. They dropped curtsies, removed caps and offered occasional shy waves.

And Adam smiled back and surveyed the land with a critical eye and a touch of possessiveness. He had missed it. And no matter how at ease he had seemed in London, he belonged here.

The carriage slowed as it came up the long curved drive and pulled abreast of the house, and he leaned
forward in his seat as though his body strained to be even closer to home. When the footman opened the carriage door, he stepped out, forgetting her. He was immediately surrounded by a pack of dogs, barking, wagging and nudging him with wet noses for his attention. He patted and stroked, calling them by name and reaching absently into a coat pocket for treats that he was not carrying.

She watched him from the door of the carriage as he was drawn like a lodestone to the open front door. And even the butler, whose kind were not known for their exuberant displays of emotion, was smiling to see the return of the master of the house.

Adam took a step forwards, and then froze and turned back to her, embarrassment colouring his face. He strode back to the carriage and reached up to offer her his hand to help her down, making a vague gesture that seemed to encompass his brief abandonment of her. Then he laughed at himself and kicked the step out of the way, held both hands out to her and said, ‘Jump.’

She stared at him in amazement. ‘Why ever for?’

‘Trust me. I will catch you.’

She shook her head. ‘This is nonsense.’

‘Perhaps. But the sooner you do it, the sooner it will be done. Now, do as I say.’

He showed no sign of relenting, and at last she closed her eyes, and stepped from the carriage into open air.

He caught her easily under the arms, and let her slide
down his body until her slippered feet were standing on his boots. The closeness of their bodies was shocking, and she meant to pull away, but he was smiling down at her with such ease that a part of her did not wish to move ever again.

He said softly, ‘There are customs about brides and thresholds, are there not? You must not stumble, or it would be bad luck to us both.’

She pointed to the house. ‘I see no reason to hold to superstition. There is nothing wrong with my legs, and the way is not strewn with disaster. I think I can manage.’ But it felt good to be held so close to him.

‘You have been very lucky for me, up ’til now. It is better to be safe than sorry. Perhaps it were best if I were to see you safely into the house.’ And before she could object, he scooped an arm beneath her knees and had lifted her into his arms.

She surprised herself by squealing in delight. She should have demanded that he let her down immediately, and that it was all highly undignified. But instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, tipped back her head and laughed into the Welsh sunshine. The crowd of dogs still milling about them had to jump to nudge and sniff her as well. And even as he took care to guide her through the pack, she could feel the strain of his body, wanting to go faster and take the last few steps at a run to be inside his house again.

As they passed the butler, the man bowed to her as well as her husband, and murmured, ‘Your Grace,
welcome home. And welcome to you as well, your Grace. May I offer my congratulations?’

Adam nodded, as though his heart were too full to speak, and held her even closer, before taking the last step that brought them both into the house. Then he set her down and took her by the hand to lead her into the entry, where the servants were assembled.

The introduction was easier than it had been on the first day in the townhouse, and she hoped that this was a sign that she was adjusting to her new role as well. Although it might have had something to do with the change in the man beside her, who was neither as distant nor as superior. When he smiled with pride as he spoke to the staff, she had a hard time distinguishing whether it was happiness with them, or his eagerness for them to meet her. And she could not help but smile as well.

At last, he held out his hand in a broad gesture and said, ‘Your new home,’ as though the manor were a person and the introduction would result in a response.

She looked up at the high ceilings, and the wide marble steps that led to the second floor of rooms and a portrait gallery above them.

She could feel his hesitation next to her. He wanted her to like it. And how could she not? It was the grandest house she’d ever seen. Although the idea that it was to be her home was faintly ridiculous.

‘The roof needs new slate,’ he said in apology. ‘But that is the way it is with all old homes. Something is always in need of repair. And nothing has been done in
decoration for many years. But the part that is undamaged by the fire is warm and clean, and I find it most comfortable.’

Comfortable? She looked at him. If one found museums to be a comforting place, perhaps. But museums were not so different really than… ‘May I see the library?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Certainly. I believe your books have already arrived.’ He led her down the hall and opened a door before them.

She poked her head into the room. Books. Floor to ceiling. Some shelves were so high that a set of brass steps was necessary to reach them. But there was plenty of space for the contents of the crates that stood stacked by the door. A fire had been laid in the grate, and the warmth of it extended to the oak table at the middle of the room. There was space for her papers, ample lamps to light the words. Comfortable chairs by the fireside where she could read for pleasure when she was not working. And the heavy rug beneath her feet was so soft and welcoming that she was tempted to abandon the furniture and curl up upon it.

‘Will there be sufficient room for your collection, or shall we need to add extra shelves?’

Without thinking, she had been counting the empty places, and reordering the works. ‘There is ample room, I am sure.’

‘And here.’ He walked to a shelf by the window, and pulled down a battered volume. ‘You will not need it,
for I think you are well stocked in this. It is left over from my own school days.’ He looked at it sadly. ‘Which means it has seen very little use.’ He handed her a schoolboy’s edition of Homer, in the Greek.

She stared down at the book in her hand, and then up to the man who had given it to her. When he was at home, he was a very different person. No less handsome, certainly. The light from the windows made his hair shine, and his eyes were as blue as they had been. But the cynical light in them had disappeared. He seemed younger. Or perhaps it was that he did not seem as arrogant and unapproachable after the previous night.

‘It is all right, then? Do you think you can be happy here?’

Happy? It was a paradise. She hardly dared speak.

‘Of course, there is more. I haven’t shown you your rooms yet.’ He led the way out of the library and down the corridor.

She peered in the next room as they passed.

‘My study,’ he answered. And this time, he opened the door wide so that she could see the desk within. ‘It connects to the library. As does the morning room on the other side. I had thought, perhaps you might wish to use it as well, should the library not prove to have sufficient space.’ He backtracked down the hall and opened another door. ‘It is rather…’ He waved a hand at the decoration, which was rococo with gilt and flowers, and a ceiling painted with cherubs and clouds. ‘My
mother, again.’ He looked at her. ‘And there are more of the damn china shepherds.’

She reached out to touch a grouping that was very similar to the one she had left in London, a court couple, locked for ever in passionate embrace. She ran a finger along it and felt the heat of the kiss in her body. ‘That is all right. I think I am growing used to them.’

He gestured her out of the room and led her down more halls to a music room, separate rooms for dining and breakfast, another parlour, and a formal receiving room. Then he took her up the stairs past the portraits of his family to a long row of bedrooms and opened a door near the end. ‘This is to be your room. If you wish.’

It was beautifully appointed, and larger than the one in the townhouse, but of a similar layout. She looked for the connecting door that should link her room to his. ‘And where do you sleep?’

He looked away. ‘I am not particularly sure. I had used this room, for a while. But I could choose another. Here, let me show you.’ He took her into the hall and opened the door to what must have been the master suite. A strong smell of smoke crept out into the hallway.

He sniffed. ‘Better than it was, I’m afraid. The real damage is farther down the hall. But your room is not affected. Let me show you the worst of it.’ He seemed to steel himself, gathering courage, then led her down the corridor to the left, and as they walked the odour of
smoke got stronger. The line of tension in her husband’s back increased. He quickened his pace as they reached the end of the corridor, and threw open the heavy double doors at the end.

He caught her, before she could attempt entrance, for there was little floor to step on. The hall seemed to end in open air before him. She was looking down into what must have been the ballroom before the fire. The light in the room had a strange, greasy quality as it filtered through what was left of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the back of the house. Some of the panes were missing, leaving spots of brightness on the floor and walls. Some were boarded shut, and some merely smoke-stained and dirty. At the second-floor level, there were bits of floor and gallery still clinging to the outer walls. From a place near the roof, an interloping bird sang.

‘Oh, my.’

‘It was beautiful once,’ Adam remarked, bitterness in his voice. ‘The retiring rooms were off this hall, card rooms and galleries for musicians. A staircase led up from there.’ He pointed to a blank space opposite them.

‘How did it happen?’

‘There was an accident. After a ball. One of the candleholders was overbalanced, and the flames touched the draperies.’ He stopped and swallowed, then started again. ‘The truth. You should hear it all, before we go further. It was I who caused it. The party was over, and most of the guests had gone. And I followed Clarissa to the second floor, so that we could be alone. My room
is just down the hall and I thought…’ He could not look at her, as he spoke. ‘But she chose the musicians’ gallery. I had too much wine that night, and was thinking too slowly to realise that the acoustics would be excellent. Tim was searching for her, to take her home. He must have heard it all. She made no effort to be quiet that night. And when I cautioned her, she laughed and asked what did I think she’d meant to happen.

‘I pushed her away from me, and she overturned the candles. I pulled her clear of the fire, but the flames spread quickly. Fortunately, the walls on this side of the house are old and stone. The damage was limited to this room, and the rooms above and below. And smoke damage to my bedroom, of course. Divine justice.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’

Adam seemed to flinch at the thought. ‘Will has a burn on the back of his arm, gained from fighting the fire. A beam fell upon him.’

She looked up at the roof, and the badly patched holes, and piles of new lumber on the floor below. ‘And this is why you needed the money?’

‘Not a thing has gone right since the night of the fire. It was as if I was cursed. I invested. Badly, as it turns out. In tobacco. The ship sank, and my hopes with it. The profits should have been enough to repair the house and account for the failure of this year’s crop.’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘And then I met you. Before that, I had no idea how to go on.’

She looked at him, and at the wreckage before them. ‘And you swear, this is over.’

He smiled sadly. ‘Nothing brings you to the knowledge that you are behaving like a fool quite so fast as burning your house half to the ground, and seeing your brother nursing injuries that were a result of your stupidity in chasing after another man’s wife. And I saw the look on Tim’s face that night. Yet he insists on forgiving me, which is the worst punishment of all.’

She tugged at his sleeve. ‘Close the doors on this mess, then. Let us go downstairs and find supper.’