Tessa's Touch (28 page)

Tessa began to tremble, teetering on the edge
of an exquisite precipice. Tumbling over might kill her, but she didn't care,
for surely heaven lay on the other side. He moved quicker, deeper, stroked more
firmly, then suddenly she fell, gasping, into a chasm of ecstasy beyond
anything she'd ever imagined.

The world disappeared and only she and Anthony
remained, bonded together as one. Above her, she heard him groan, then he drove
himself deep, deep inside her, vaulting her back to the heights as he found his
own release.

Slowly, very slowly, the world reassembled
itself around them as her senses gradually recovered from the overwhelming
experience. Opening her eyes, she gazed up at Anthony in wonder, unwilling to
speak, for no words could be worthy of what had just occurred.

Gazing down at her, he smiled —a slow, lazy
smile that reflected the languor she felt stealing through her own body, now
that the most amazing experience of her life was over. "Poor little
fox," he said, caressing her face with his eyes.

She smiled up at him. "Poor? Only because
the hunt is over."

"For the moment," he said. "I
promise you many more."

Surely no one could experience anything like
that more than once in a lifetime? "Is . . . is it always like this?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "I've never
experienced anything like this before —but I have no doubt I will again, now
that we're together. And so will you. This is only the beginning."

Anthony meant what he said. Though he was by no
means inexperienced, what he'd just shared with Tessa was astounding, with no
parallel from his past. Was this the difference love made? He thought it must
be.

For a moment he wondered whether he should have
dissembled his expertise in such things as removing feminine attire. But no, he
never wanted to be dishonest with Tessa. He was who he was— past, present and
future. And somehow he felt sure that with her, the future would be best of
all.

Leaning down, he kissed her again, a sweet,
lingering kiss. "Does this mean you forgive me for insisting that we
marry?" he asked teasingly, though a part of him tensed for her answer.

"Certainly you've proved that there is
much more of good in marriage than I'd ever suspected," she responded with
a shy smile.

"I'm glad —but that's not what I
asked."

For a long moment she didn't answer, then she
said, "I believe I've come to understand why you did what you did. What
Harold did was dishonest, while what you did was . . . more honest than I'd
have liked. But more and more, I'm learning that honesty is best, whatever I
believed in the past."

"I'm glad to hear it. I hope we will never
have occasion to lie to each other, Tessa."

"I hope so, too," she said, then she
frowned. "That reminds me— Harold said something before he left that I
didn't understand. I'm hoping you can explain it to me."

Anthony rolled so that they were side by side,
though still facing each other. With one finger, he stroked the side of her
face, wondering what young Emery was up to now. "I will if I can," he
told her.

She hesitated, biting her lip, then gave a
little shrug and met his eyes. "He said you were marrying me for
Wheatstone," she began.

He frowned, but before he could deny it, she
continued. "I didn't believe that, and still don't. I wouldn't have
mentioned it at all, except that we've just said we'll be honest with each
other."

"Thank you for telling me, then," he
said, cupping her cheek.

"Was there something else he said? You
said you didn't understand."

"Yes. He said something about my birth.
That . . . that you had learned the truth of it, whatever it is. My uncle
seemed to confirm it, and said my father didn't want me to know. Do you know
what they were talking about?"

Anthony tried not to let his sudden fury at the
Emerys show in his expression. So that's why they had come to Ivy Lodge today
—to try to poison this marriage at its very inception! He should have had them
thrown out the moment they arrived.

But no, that would only have postponed the
inevitable.

"Anthony?" She looked worried now. He
had hesitated too long. "There is something, isn't there?"

"It's nothing so ominous as your cousin
doubtless made it sound," he said quickly, determined to wipe the worry
from her brow. "You knew, did you not, that your parents eloped?"

She nodded. "Father mentioned it once. I,
of course, wanted all of the details, for it sounded terribly romantic,"
she said with a smile, "but he would say nothing more about it, seeming to
feel it was not a fit subject for my ears." Her smile dimmed. "Were
they . . . not actually married before I was born?"

There was no denying his Tessa was quick on the
uptake. "Not until just after," he told her gently. "No one here
knows that, however, as the wedding took place in Ireland."

"No one except my uncle and cousin,"
she said hollowly, feeling as though the bottom had just dropped out of her
world. She was illegitimate and her father had hidden it from her all of these
years— hidden it from everyone.

"Yes, that was the hold they had over your
father. Emery convinced him that if the truth were known, even after so many years,
it would create a scandal —a far greater scandal than most would be likely to
consider it."

"Most?" she asked doubtfully,
thinking of his family. Surely, this news could not have been welcome to
Anthony, however much he chose to downplay it now.

"Oh, there will always be those willing to
blow any little thing out of proportion for gossip," he said lightly.
"But there's no reason anyone else should ever know of this."

Given her uncle's parting comment, she didn't
necessarily agree, but she refused to worry Anthony with what was only
speculation.

"Poor Papa," she said. "I
suppose his excessive concern with the opinions of others worked against him in
this case." She managed a small smile and he hugged her to him.

"That's my girl. Sir George spent years worrying
about such things, but you have no need to do so. Not now."

But Tessa wasn't at all certain that her
father's concerns had been misplaced. More than ever, she was conscious that
she had married above her station. She only hoped that Anthony would not suffer
too much for his compassion for her and her father.

* *
*

Anthony quite enjoyed dinner that evening. Not
only was Tessa at his side where she belonged, but he felt far more relaxed
than he had in weeks —and he was fully aware of the reason. As the soup was
served, then again over the fish, he shared intimate smiles with his new bride,
delighting in her blushes —which everyone else at the table pretended not to
notice.

Really, he must be the luckiest man alive, he
thought. Not particularly wealthy, perhaps, but with great riches in good
friends and a wife he knew would be a constant source of pleasure to him —on
many levels.

Not until the sweetmeats were brought in did he
notice how quiet Tessa had been throughout the meal. He hoped it was merely
mild embarrassment in front of his friends, but he feared it was more. Learning
the truth about her birth couldn't have been easy for her. Then there was the
trip to London. She hadn't said so, but he knew she was worried about his
family's reception.

To be truthful, so was he. He'd waited until
today to send word of their marriage, partly from a superstitious worry that
something might happen to prevent it, and partly from a hope that his father
might not have time to discover everything there was to know about Tessa before
they arrived in London. The Duke of Marland prided himself on knowing
everything about everyone.

He'd considered not sending word at all, simply
arriving at Marland house and introducing Tessa as his bride, but he'd rejected
that plan as too risky. This way, if his parents greeted the news with horror
or anger, the storm would have time to abate before Tessa could see it.

She was insecure enough about fitting into his
world without that. If they were rude to her, he would whisk her back here
before they could so much as catch their breath. As far as it was in his power,
he intended to keep her safe and happy— always. On that thought, he remembered
the surprise he still had in store for her and smiled.

"In light of today's events, I hope you
won't mind if my wife and I break with tradition somewhat and leave you all to
your port," he said when the ladies rose to remove to the parlor.
"Lady Killerby, I know you will excuse Tessa this evening. There is something
in the stables I wish to show her."

Tessa took his profferred arm, her eyes frankly
curious. "Is it Nimbus?" she asked as they left the dining room.
"Or Zephyr?"

Instead of answering, he just smiled and said,
"Run upstairs and get a wrap, and I'll show you."

With a last, puzzled frown, she complied, and a
minute or two later was back, a warm blue cape clasped about her shoulders.
"I'm ready. Now, what is this mystery?"

Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow,
he led her down the front steps and around the side of the house to the
stables. The horses had been fed and were quiet for the most part, though
Nimbus shied at the sound of approaching footsteps when they neared his stall.

"It's just me," Tessa called to him,
and at once he quieted.

Anthony didn't think he'd ever get tired of
watching her effect on horses. Then, as it had once before, a thread of doubt
assailed him. Had she somehow affected him with her "magic," making
him disregard his own desire for independence as well as his family's expectations
for her sake? Or was this simply love?

Would he ever really know?

"Here we are," he said, pushing the
traitorous doubt from his mind. "Someone I think you may have
missed." He was speaking as much to the horse as to Tessa.

"Cinnamon!" she exclaimed in delight.
"Why didn't you tell me you'd bought her, Anthony?" She threw her
arms around him and kissed him before turning back to the mare, who was
whickering excitedly at the sound of Tessa's voice.

He grinned at Tessa's response, as effusive as
he'd hoped. "I feared you might have already discovered it from your
uncle. I'm glad I was able to make her a surprise."

"I never asked," she said, stroking
the mare's outstretched neck. "Everything last week was so . . .
chaotic."

"I understand, believe me. I'd intended to
give her to you last Tuesday, but then you refused me. And then, on
Wednesday—"

"On Wednesday, you were told I was engaged
to marry my cousin, the very day after you had offered for me," she
finished quietly. "Oh, Anthony, I am so sorry for the pain I must have
caused you. I still cannot believe you can forgive me for that."

He caressed her shoulder through the fabric of
her cape. "I never blamed you, Tessa. Or, at least, not for more than a
few minutes," honesty compelled him to admit, remembering his emotions on
that day. "But even during the brief time that I believed you would really
marry Emery, I still intended to give Cinnamon to you as a wedding gift."

Her eyes grew misty, then she turned back to
the horse. "Perhaps it's as well you didn't tell me about Cinnamon before.
I'd have felt so much worse . . ."

Abruptly, Tessa remembered what Harold had told
her about Anthony buying a horse for his mistresses each year. He'd bought
Cinnamon before making his initial offer —the one she had misinterpreted. Had
his original intention been—? No! She would not doubt him. Not now.

Even if, in light of what she'd learned about
her birth, she was more suited to that role.

"Thank you, Anthony," she said then,
meaning far more than just his gift of the mare.

* *
*

For Tessa, the journey to London was both
exciting and dreamlike, two days out of time —two special days of getting to
know Anthony better, both physically, during their one night on the road, and
through their long conversations in the coach. Two days of imagining that her
life could always be like this, free of the judgment, the censure, of others.

Dusk was falling —a very foggy dusk— when they
rolled into the streets of London. Tessa peered through the carriage windows,
wonder at the sights and sounds dampened by a growing dread. They were to drive
straight to Marland House, in the very heart of fashionable London, and there
she was to be introduced to the Duke and Duchess of Marland— Anthony's parents.

The fog turned the gas streetlights into fuzzy
yellow globes and muted the sounds of more traffic than she'd even imagined. As
they slowly worked their way into Mayfair along the thronged streets, she
caught glimpses of gracious squares filled with trees and tall, elegant
townhouses, with liveried servants and sumptuously dressed people passing in
and out of them.

"This is Grosvenor Square," Anthony
told her as they turned into the largest square she'd yet seen, surrounded by
the grandest of houses. "And this," he continued as the carriage
pulled to a halt, "is Marland House."