No Brighter Dream: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 3 (25 page)

“Let me take you outside for a walk and show you some of the outbuildings,” he said, reluctantly releasing her. “That should give Mrs. Lummus plenty of time to unpack your clothes, heat water, and finish preparing the dinner. And you need to dry your eyes before she sees you and thinks I’ve already begun to beat you.”

Ali had to laugh when he did finally take her upstairs. The main bedroom was exotic indeed for a simple English farmhouse. Although he hadn’t gone so far as to put the mattress on the floor, he’d had the bed draped with a silk kilim woven in rich burnt umber and reds and blues. It was the only strong note of color in the room. A large wooden chest with hammered brass filigree sat at the foot of the large bed, a pile of typical Yourook furs on top of it, and delicate white gauze fabric adorned the windows, not obscuring the views in the least or even occluding the light, but adding a note of Eastern grace.

But best of all, a lovely brass hip bath stood in one comer, and on a table next to it sat a large mahogany box filled with all sorts of precious oils.

Ali, left alone to wash and change, lovingly fingered the dark glass vials filled with her favorite scents. Jasmine, rose from Damascus, orange blossom, frankincense, sandalwood, cinnamon, nutmeg, there were more than she could count.

She knew that Andre had probably brought most of them back for medicinal purposes, for she’d learned much from him in Turkey about their healing properties and taught him remedies too, things that she’d learned from her people.

But she’d also learned from her people that some of the oils served dual purposes and were used to stimulate and heighten desire. She didn’t think either of them needed any extra stimulating tonight, but it couldn’t hurt to dab a little precious jasmine behind her ears and on her wrists.

Ali washed and changed from her traveling dress. It amused her to find that hanging in the armoire were not the fashionable and expensive clothes that had been made for her trousseau, but the older and more comfortable dresses that she’d worn at Ravenswalk.

Georgia and Nicholas must have had a fine time conspiring to keep this secret from her. Ali smiled at the thought.

She slipped on a simple green dress, not bothering with the petticoat that went under it. She didn’t bother to put her hair up either, pulling it back in her favorite style, with just a ribbon to hold it. Andre wouldn’t mind, and she doubted Mrs. Lummus would care.

Andre had changed too, and as she paused on the threshold of the sitting room, she was delighted to see that he was dressed as simply as she was, his linen shirt open at the neck, no jacket, no waistcoat, wearing a casual pair of trousers. He sat reading on the sofa, his feet propped up on the table, his attention fully on his book, so like the old days.

The sight was enough to make her heart hammer painfully, not so much with desire, although that was there too, but with the understanding that had dawned when she had first walked in and seen what he’d done.

This house was his silent acknowledgment to her. He had not bought it because he thought the pressure of being a duchess would be too much. He needed the escape from the pressures of the duchy as much as she. Just looking at him now told her that.

No, he had bought it and decorated it in this fashion as a statement of what they were together—easy, comfortable, two people with a shared past and a shared affinity for a special part of the world.

He had done it to tell her that he knew at heart she was the same Ali and brought her here to make that rediscovery for them both, to blend their two worlds together. And he had somehow managed to evade the laws of marital property and put the farm in her name to tell her that he honored her as a woman in her own right.

If that wasn’t love, she had to wonder what he thought love was.

Andre listened to Ali’s cheerful chatter during dinner with only half an ear. His attention was caught instead by her sparkling eyes, looking even brighter by candlelight, caught by the sweet curve of her mouth, by the sensuous tumble of hair down her back, the loose strands carelessly caressing her slender neck exactly where he wished his fingers could be.

It served to remind him of what lay ahead, and he found that he didn’t want to wait another moment. But he didn’t want to rush Ali, either. He owed her the fullest night he could give her, since there was so much else he couldn’t.

“Andre?” she asked, putting down her fork and knife. “May I stop talking now, please?”

“I beg your pardon?” he said, jolted out of his wayward thoughts.

“I said I’d like to stop talking. It’s not easy trying to make conversation for two, especially when one’s heart isn’t in it. Mrs. Lummus has gone home, we did justice enough to her meal, and I think we can safely go up to bed. Although I think I need to teach her about spices, don’t you?”

It was such a typical Ali statement that he wanted to laugh. “Yes, I agree on all counts,” he said as seriously as he could manage. “Why don’t you go on up? I’ll join you shortly.”

Ali took a last sip of wine, then put her glass down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “You had better,” she said, standing. “Or I shall come down and drag you to bed myself.”

“I’m not in need of persuasion,” he replied, slipping his arm around her slim waist as she passed and stroking her hip. “I only thought to give you a few minutes to prepare yourself.”

“I have been prepared for years,” she said with a mischievous smile. “It is you who is always being taken by surprise.” She danced away from him and disappeared down the hall.

“Brat,” he murmured under his breath. But she was right. One way or another, Ali always did manage to catch him off guard.

Ali brushed out her hair in long careful strokes, grateful there was no lady’s maid tonight to distract her. She undressed and washed, then put on the simple white nightdress she had chosen for this night. And then she climbed beneath the covers, suddenly nervous.

Her last experience with Andre had been unmeditated, an act of spontaneous love on her part, even though she had been fully aware of the consequences when she’d given herself to him. This night was entirely different, the first in their married life, and she couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind.

She stroked the kilim, a strong sensual memory running through her fingertips, bringing back sharp images of her childhood. And later, in her time with Andre, she had spent many hours sitting on rugs just like this, in his tent, or with the Yourooks, or watching closely as he negotiated with Gemil or others in the marketplace. Her life in Turkey felt like only a breath away. But her life in England felt just as immediate to her.

Andre was the only bridge between the two.

And now she sat here, waiting for him to come to her bed and take her as his wife. Was he thinking of her? Or was he thinking of Genevieve, who should have lain in his marriage bed with him, instead of a little Turkish stray?

Ali folded her hands together and prayed as hard as she ever had that she would be equal to him on this night, that she might make him forget. Tonight she wanted to wrap the first layer of her love around him, to form the first coating of her pearl. Nothing else could be more important than that.

A light tap came at the door, and she looked up with renewed determination. “Come in,” she said, trying to control the ridiculous trembling of her fingers.

Ali forgot her nervousness in sheer surprise as Andre appeared. He wore only the classic Turkish piece of linen wrapped around his waist, the simple blue stripe across the bottom the pattern of the Yourooks of Xanthos. She’d seen him like this so many times in the past, and to see him now dressed in this manner dissolved the very last of the gap between the worlds.

“The last time I saw you wearing that, you were waiting for your bath,” she said softly, gazing at him with an inviting smile.

He crossed the room in a heartbeat. “A bath is the last thing on my mind,” he said, moving onto the bed and taking her in his arms. “I think you know exactly what I want.” His hands smoothed and stroked her hair, her neck, drew her closer to him, his breath fast and light on her cheek, but hot, so hot.

“I—I do,” she gasped as he turned her, folded her against him, and carried her down onto the bed.

“Ali, sweet,” he murmured, his hands restlessly stroking over her, his mouth doing outrageous things to her ear and then descending to take her mouth with no thought to her senses. He thought nothing either of cupping her breast, stroking the nipple with his thumb until it sprang up hard under his fingers.

“God, how I’ve wanted you,” he said hoarsely, sweeping his mouth down her neck and opening the ribbon of her nightdress. He pushed the material aside, exposing her breast. His tongue traced one delicate blue vein, then circled the underside and moved up to capture her throbbing nipple, pulling it into his mouth and lightly rolling it between his teeth.

Ali’s fingers slipped into his hair, and she pressed up against his touch, reveling in every sensation. “Andre—Andre, oh…” she moaned, twisting against him. Every little tug of his mouth sent fire racing through her belly. She thought she might die from pleasure, and just as the thought occurred, he moved his head and adored her other breast, creating another scene of unholy chaos.

He lifted his head and gazed down at her. “I want this to be right for you,” he said raggedly, his eyes blazing pure silver fire, his hands stroking the hair back from her fevered brow. “Let me know what you like, what you want.”

“All I have ever wanted is you,” she whispered. She lifted the hand that bore his ring and touched it to his face, tracing the line of cheekbone, her shaking fingers drifting to his mouth. “Teach me now, Andre, as you have taught me so much else?”

His hand closed around hers and he bowed his head, his cheek resting against her hair. “Ali. What do you do to me?”

She moved her head so that her mouth pressed against his neck. “Nothing but love you,” she murmured against his heated skin. And then she opened her mouth and stroked him with her tongue, reveling in his taste and smell, pulling the lobe of his ear between her lips and suckling it, much as he had done to her nipple.

Andre shuddered and moved over her, this time taking her mouth in a furious kiss that held nothing back and sent Ali into a state of wild abandon as his hands stroked over her, kneading her breasts, slipping behind her hips, lifting her toward him. She writhed against him, his erect penis rubbing against her belly in a manner that made her want to scream with desperate longing.

Just being in his arms was enough to set her on fire, but the knowledge that she had the ability to arouse him to such a degree only added to her fevered desire. Her fingers raked down his back in frenzied need and her hips pressed against his, rubbing against his hard length. “Oh, Andre, please,” she begged. “Please now?”

He pushed her shoulders back against the bed. “Wait,” he gasped. “Wait, for G od’s sake, or I’m going to lose myself here and now.”

Ali, her chest heaving desperately, squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, but that did little to quench the flames that threatened to consume her.

He waited a moment, panting heavily, then swallowed hard and threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I can see,” he said, his breathing labored, “that this is not going to be as easy as I thought.”

A li ran her tongue over her parched lips. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, breathing as hard as he.

“Ali … no. Just the opposite.” He rolled over onto his back, his erection holding the cloth of his wrap up like a tent pole. “God, Ali. Dear God. All right. Better now.” He looked at her sideways. “I refuse to take you like an untried schoolboy, which is exactly how I’m feeling. But I swear, you don’t make it easy.”

Ali wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that, but she looked at him and then at his rampant erection and decided that the problem wasn’t serious. “Maybe we should take our clothes off?” she suggested, thinking that might help.

Andre groaned, then gave a choke of laughter. “Ah … ah. Yes. Why don’t we do that?” He rolled onto his side and skimmed his hands up Ali’s hips, taking her nightdress with him. In one deft move he lifted it over her head and tossed it onto the floor.

Ali, equally obligingly, untucked the fold of material at his waist and loosened the cloth with practice fingers. Only this time what she found was an entirely different sight to what had appeared in the past.

Andre was magnificent in his arousal. His shaft jutted out from his belly hard as steel, arcing up toward her in obvious need.

Ali caught her breath. “You are beautiful like this,” she said in awe, reaching her hand out.

To her surprise Andre caught her wrist, holding it tightly away form him. “No,” he said. “Oh, no you don’t.”

“It is not permitted?” she asked, bewildered.

“It is permitted,” he answered, sweat beading his forehead. “It is very much permitted. Just not now.”

“But why?” she asked. “If it is all right for you to put this wonderful part of you inside me, then why may I not touch you on the outside?”

Andre grinned. “Let me show you? It’s easier than explaining.” He moved her onto her back, and began to stroke her legs, from the bottom of her feet all the way up to the juncture of her thighs, long, languorous strokes that soon had Ali shaking uncontrollably.

“Now,” he said huskily, gently spreading her thighs and moving his hand into her soft curls, damp with desire. His fingers began to move on her flesh, sliding between the lips, teasing, stroking, causing her to sob with renewed need, her hips moving convulsively.

“Oh,” she moaned. “Oh, please, Andre, I can’t bear it.”

“Good, because that’s how I was feeling a few minutes ago,” he said raggedly. “Had you laid one slender finger on me then, it would have all been over.”

“It feels this wonderful to you too?” she asked, wondering how that could be when they were made so differently.

“Oh, yes,” he said, exploring her more deeply with his finger. “Oh, yes.”

He pushed them into her and the next thing Ali knew, all sensation gathered together in one unbearable knot of pleasure and burst apart.