Tallie's Knight (17 page)

“Ship. A boat is much
small—”

“Will you listen to
me, you foolish chit?” Magnus slammed his fist onto the leather squabs. “He
could have drugged you, stolen you away and sold you as a white slave in some
foreign port!”

Tallie stared at him.
She had heard of white slaves, of course. The girls had talked of such things
after dark in the dormitory. But she had been in no such danger. Everyone on
the waterfront had known where she had gone.

“But how could he, my
lord?” she began.

“Quite easi—”

“For there is no wind
to enable the ship to sail away,” she finished. “That is why we are not yet in
France. Have you forgot?”

Magnus glared at her,
stumped for a response.

The coach rattled
onwards. Tallie glanced out of the window. They were well out of town by now,
green hedges and trees whipping past in a blur. It was remarkable how
accustomed she had become to the speed of coach travel. For a girl who’d never
been anywhere, she was fast becoming a seasoned traveller.

She looked back at
her husband. He was staring out of the window, a black frown on his face. He obviously
still hadn’t got over his crotchets. She sighed. One would expect such a
handsome man to have a more agreeable temperament, but the least little thing
seemed to set him off. Still, anyone who had been reared in Miss Fisher’s
Seminary for the Daughters of Gentlemen knew all about bad tempers. She sighed again.

The sound made Magnus
turn to look at her. She cocked her head and smiled enquiringly at him.

It was the smile that
did it, Magnus told himself later. Quite obviously she still had no idea of the
imprudence of her actions, of the danger she’d been in. Her countenance showed
not the slightest sign of contrition. His temper, held rigidly in check, burst
its bounds again.

“And what if that
damned filthy ruffian had decided to ravish you out there on that boat?” he
snarled. “What then, eh? You could have done nothing. Nothing to save yourself!
Did you think of that, madam, eh? No, I am very sure you did not. You did not
think of anything at all, did you?”

“Oh, he would have
done nothing of the sort,” retorted Tallie crossly. “And if he had—” she glared
at him defiantly “—I know very well how to deal with such matters.”

“What?”

“Well—” she began,
but her words froze in her throat as Magnus launched himself at her, lunging
across the carriage to grab her arms.

In seconds he had her
hands pinioned behind her back and she was thrust back along the wide seat of
the coach, legs flailing, his muscular body pressed heavily on top of hers. She
stared up at him, struggling, her eyes wide with surprise.

“What if he’d had you
like this?” Magnus growled. “Your body vulnerable under his. Accessible to his
every desire.” He pressed himself against her, his eyes devouring her face.

Tallie felt something
hard pressing into her stomach. She tried to wriggle away. Her husband’s face
loomed dark and angry over hers, his flinty grey eyes boring into her. She
could feel his breath warm on her skin. Ignoring her struggles with ease, he
gathered both her wrists into one hand, leaving the other free.

“And what if he had
wanted to do this to you? What would you have done then, eh?” His hand moved
slowly over her breast, stroking and squeezing.

Tallie gasped in
amazement. What on earth was he doing? To take such liberties with her person.
She knew about men taking liberties with a girl’s person from Miss Fisher —she
had just never known what exactly ‘liberties’ were. And she knew very well what
the correct response for a genteel young lady was in this situation —she just
wasn’t sure she wanted to make it— just yet.

These liberties felt
remarkably pleasant, and she didn’t want to stop him. Yet.

The big warm hand
exploring her breast caused all sorts of wondrous shivery responses in her
body. Particularly when he touched her like that. Ohhh! Like ripples in a pond,
the feelings started from her chest and shimmered deliciously outward. And
downward. She lay there, entranced, staring up at her husband’s dark visage,
lost in the sensations his caresses were producing.

“And what if he’d
done this?” muttered her husband thickly, and pressed his mouth hard over hers.

Tallie closed her
eyes. Her husband’s mouth crushed hers for a moment, then softened. His lips
explored hers slowly, gently, and she gave herself up to the sensations. His
mouth was so tender and warm as it moved caressingly over hers. And he wasn’t
merely pressing his lips against hers; he seemed to be nibbling and sucking and
licking. She shivered pleasurably and pressed closer to him.

Even his body
pressing so heavily on top of hers felt interestingly. Gracious! His tongue was
pushing between her lips! Running along between her teeth and her lips. Very peculiar.
Yet utterly thrilling. Sensation vibrated through her body from his, and she
felt her body softening and melting with the pleasure of it. And yet an odd sort
of tension seemed to be rising within her.

His tongue plunged
again into her mouth, sweeping in slow, sensual arcs, stroking the roof of her
mouth, curling around her own tongue.

Tallie shuddered
rapturously as wondrous sensations flooded her. His powerful thighs imprisoned
her, and he pressed against her, in deliberate, rhythmic movements, his body
moving in time with his tongue. Tallie felt languid, thrilled and apprehensive
—all at the same time.

His hand had left her
breasts, she realised suddenly. It was sliding up her legs, over her stockings.
It was past her knee and touching bare flesh! The hand moved higher and she
tried to wriggle away from it, at the same time straining to press herself more
closely against him. He moaned, caressing her eyelids with his mouth and
tongue, nuzzling her throat and stroking the skin of her thighs with warm, strong
fingers. Tallie’s legs quivered in response, then fell apart, trembling. His
hand moved higher, circling, stroking, pressing.

Suddenly the coach
lurched, and Tallie abruptly became aware of what she was doing. And where his
hands were! She stiffened in shock.

These were indeed
liberties! And Tallie knew her duty.

“Ohhhhh,” she gasped
loudly, and collapsed dramatically back against the seat cushions, her body
loose and boneless.

“Tallie? What is it?”
Magnus pulled his mouth from hers and blinked dazedly down at his bride. Oh,
Lord! He’d let himself get carried away. The slightest touch of his lips to
hers and the passion he’d tried so hard to repress had flared uncontrollably.
Lord help him, he’d been about to ravish his innocent virgin bride in a
carriage in the middle of the countryside! And frightened her half to death by
the look of things!

“Tallie, are you all
right?” He picked up one hand and began to chafe it frenziedly. He patted her
cheeks and took her chin in his hand, searching in vain for signs of animation.
Her head lolled in his hands. Oh, Lord, what if she were ill?

Thoroughly alarmed,
Magnus sat up and ran his hands through his hair, wondering what the devil one
did with swooning females. A vinaigrette, that was what he needed. He searched
every cranny of the coach, as if one would magically be found to contain a
bottle of smelling salts, but no.

What else? Burnt
feathers? He’d seen women revived when burnt feathers were held under their
noses —but he had no feathers to burn.

What else? He thought
in desperation. Cold water? Yes, there was bound to be some lying around
outside —a stream or a pond or even a puddle. He shouted at the coachman to
stop the coach, and as it slowed he flung open the door.

A noise from his
beloved bride halted him in his tracks. He could not believe his ears. The
sound came again. Magnus turned in dark suspicion and looked at her. Sure
enough, her body was convulsed —in not quite silent giggles.

“You little witch!”
Magnus exclaimed wrathfully. “You were faking it!”

Tallie sat up,
groping for her reticule to find a handkerchief to wipe her streaming eyes.

Magnus stared,
outraged, incredulous. She was laughing? At him! He had been lost in the
heights of passion… and she’d faked a swoon… and was laughing! He opened his
mouth to deliver a blistering tirade to end all blistering tirades.

“You see, my lord, I
was in no danger.” Her voice was a little shaky, but she seemed in full control
of her faculties.

No danger? Magnus’s
eyes narrowed into glacial slits.

“Danger of what?”
Right now the little baggage was in danger of being throttled! By her brand-new
husband!

“From that sailor, of
course,” Tallie responded as brightly as she could, given the fact that her
body still trembled with the aftermath of his passion. She had reacted
automatically, feigning the swoon, but all the time she had lain there with her
eyes closed she had been reliving his caresses. She’d felt like bursting into
tears when he had sat up, releasing her from his embrace, and begun chafing her
hands.

She’d been shaken, in
turmoil, wondering what to do, but then laughter had bubbled up from nowhere,
and she’d let it come. She continued, “If he had done what you said he might —what
you did to me just now— I would have pretended to swoon, just like I did. Then,
while he was wondering what to do, I would have escaped.”

She smiled
triumphantly at him and straightened her skirts, hoping he would not notice her
trembling hands. She had never known a kiss could be like that, but she could
never let him see how strongly it had affected her. She did not wish to disgust
him, after all.

She felt quite proud
of herself, of her apparent self-possession, as she said, “Now, shall we return
to town?”

He was still looking
murderous, so she said earnestly, “You really have no need to worry about my
safety, my lord, for truly there is no need, as you saw. I learned how to deal
with unwanted liberties when I was at school, you know. Miss Fisher considered
it very important.” She added confidingly, “Of course, this is the first time I
have ever actually needed to do so, but I think it worked splendidly, don’t you
agree?”

“Splendidly.” Lord d’Arenville
glared balefully at his bride of only a few days. Unwanted liberties? Hell and
the devil roast it, but he’d teach her to want those liberties from him —if he
died in the attempt!

The handsome pirate
bent over her, and a lock of crisp dark hair fell over his brow. His sea-grey
eyes darkened with passion as he lowered his mouth to hers. “Ohhhh,” Tallie
moaned. His arms drew her closer and she felt as if there was no other place on
earth she wished to be.

He smiled, the long,
vertical grooves in his cheeks deepening, and kissed her again.

Tallie groaned.

“Fear not, my love,”
the pirate murmured. “No one can catch us. No one will ever take you away from
me. For the wind is blowing swift and strong…”

Tallie moaned again.
It wasn’t fair. She loved the sea.

“…and my ship is
fleet and sure.”

“Ohhhh!” Tallie
whimpered. She loved ships, too.

“…and she rides the
waves like a dolphin, up and down.”

“Oh, no, no —no more…”
Tallie muttered woefully. She was betrayed —by the ship, by the sea.

“Here, take this.”
Lord d’Arenville’s eyes were sea-dark with concern as he leaned over her. He held
out a basin and Tallie clutched it gratefully, closing her eyes again to shut
out the sight of the lantern swinging with the motion of the ship.

She bent over the basin for a long, painful interval,
then felt it removed from her grasp. A cool, damp cloth gently wiped her mouth
and she felt hands tucking the blanket more securely around her shivering body.
Warm, strong arms gathered her close and she sighed in relief. She felt herself
lifted up and her eyes flew open again in alarm.

“It’s all right. I’m
taking you up on deck,” Magnus murmured as she clutched his neck in distress.

“No, no.”

“Trust me, you will
feel better in the fresh air,” he said, and carried her out of the small,
gloomy cabin.

Tallie was certain
she would die if she had to go up to the pitching, rolling deck, but she was
too miserable and exhausted to argue. She would die soon in any case. Why had
no one told her sailing was like this? She felt the ship lurch and shudder,
heard the frightful creak and groan of straining timber, and clutched her
husband tighter, finding comfort in his warmth and strength. And courage. For
he seemed not the least distressed by this dreadful storm which would surely
kill them all.

On deck the wind was
brisk and cold. Magnus carried her over to the railings and found a place to
sit, still holding her in his arms.

Splashes of sea spray
cooled her clammy skin. Magnus wiped it with his handkerchief. Wind whipped at
her hair and tugged at her skirts. He smoothed her hair back and tucked the
blanket more securely around her.

“Feeling better?” he
said after a while.

Tallie shivered and
leaned against his chest. She did feel a little better. The fresh sea air was
helping her head to clear —if not her stomach, which was aching dreadfully from
all that she had lost from it. She would never eat kippers again.

“It’s perfect weather
for sailing,” he said.

She stared at him
incredulously. Perfect weather? Surely it was a storm! Those white-capped waves
were enormous, and the way they dipped and swelled and crashed against the
sides of the ship was terrifying.

“According to the
captain, this wind will have us in France in under five hours,” he continued.
He glanced down at her and smiled slightly. “That’s a little under two hours
from now.”

“Two hours,” Tallie
groaned.

He laughed —rather
heartlessly, Tallie thought.

“Here, this will help
settle your stomach.” He pulled out a flat silver flask, unscrewed the top and
held it to her lips.