The Chevalier (24 page)

He watched as she combed out her long ebon hair, as it cascaded down her back in glossy, luxurious waves. She looked then for some private place to undress, staring at him uneasily as if she wished to ask him to leave. But he had no desire to leave the room. He crossed his legs and leaned back negligently against the doorjamb.

“Undress in front of me, my love. I want to see your bounty.”

He saw her cheeks flush crimson and thought how becoming such modesty was to her. He felt hot desire rush through his loins, although he willed himself to control it.

“I am very worn from the traveling,” she told him.

“Yes, of course, and I shan’t bother you ‘t all. I just want to see you for a moment if I may.”

She nodded her head shyly. “I do not look the same as I did,” she told him in some embarrassment.

“I shouldn’t think that you would,” he said with a reassuring smile.

As she slowly removed each article of clothing, he found himself intoxicated by the glow of her perfect, milky skin. The enlargement of her breasts and thickening of her waist did not make her less attractive in his eyes. He thought her lush yet ethereal and had a devil of a time controlling his aroused flesh which seemed to have a will of its own. As she slipped on a simple white night-rail that contrasted perfectly with the black locks of her hair, he was so overcome that he knew he could not be in the same room with her and avoid taking her into his arms.

“I’ll let you rest if that’s what you really want,” he said in a tight voice.

She nodded her assent, slipping under the covers, and he quickly walked out of the room into the hall. He was grateful that no one else was around to see him at that moment as it might have proved an embarrassment. After a few minutes, he comported himself enough to walk downstairs and order a pint at the bar. The men there were convivial, most of them already in their cups. Gareth thought that was what he ought to do as well, but he was not much of a drinking man by nature. Drinking was just another way in which men lost control and escaped reality. He would always strive to exercise restraint if possible. So he nursed his pint for quite a while and then slowly put away a second.

By that time he was certain that Madeline would be asleep. He was also more relaxed and decided he could slip into bed beside her and get some sleep himself. When he got upstairs, it was just as he thought. Her eyes were closed; the dark, thick lashes spread over her cheeks, her ebon locks in luxuriant disarray on the white linen of her pillow. Her features were at peace, and in the high-necked gown, she looked very much like an innocent and trusting child.

Gareth threw a log on the fire before retiring. He undressed quickly and went under the covers beside her, scrupulously avoiding the touch of his body against hers. That would have been more than he could tolerate. He lay on his side, his back turned to her and closed his eyes. But sleep did not come for a long time. There was too much tension in his body, too much need for her. They had never slept together for a night and desire was hot and strong within him. It was nearly dawn before he could control the feelings that stirred him.

♥ ♥ ♥

In her sleep, Madeline felt strong arms holding her, callused hands caressing her body. She smiled and moved closer to this source of warmth and comfort, molding her body against the wonderful sensation. Those strong hands were stroking her breasts and then kneading the soft underside of her thighs. She moaned in her sleep, feeling such overwhelming pleasure that she could scarcely stand it, and then as the touch delved into her softness, she woke crying out from the immense pleasure as wave upon wave of ecstasy rocked her to the core.

It was Gareth, she realized, looking over at him. The morning sunlight from the window caught in his hair and made him shine like a golden god.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. “I just wanted to hold you, to touch you. It’s hard to sleep with you so near and not have you.”

She could not speak just then. His hands were about her, his naked body pressing hotly against hers. She felt his fingers touching and moving into her most private recesses.

“Oh, yes, you’re so moist, so ready for me, love.”

She felt the pressure of his erection against her lower belly. With a trembling hand, she reached out and touched it, taking pleasure in its throbbing power and the smooth velvety feel. He groaned with delight. In an instant, he slipped himself into her and began thrusting in a way that only served to renew her pleasure. Her hands and mouth were all over him. She had a desire to explore each and every part of his magnificent body, just as he was doing to her. She completely abandoned herself to the wildness of her passion. It was an elemental mating, hard, hot, hungry, and before it ended, they were both taken to the heights of a revelation neither had ever before imagined possible. She neither saw, nor heard, nor breathed. It was beyond ecstasy. Gareth finally fell upon her breast, panting and completely sated. As for herself, she melted in his arms like a burning candle.

“I did not think myself capable of such feeling,” he said at length. “You are the most intoxicating female I have ever known. Such passion. You give everything. We are very well suited in bed, my love.”

She knew that Gareth meant this as the greatest of compliments and that she should take it that way, and yet it made her feel terribly sad. All of a sudden, she could not contain herself and she began to cry. She knew that what was between them was not right, for it had nothing to do with love or caring. For a moment last night, she had almost imagined that he did love her. But she knew with a painful certainty now that all he ever felt for her was lust. Perhaps he was not capable of any real feeling for a woman. If only she could have a husband who did truly love her! To be condemned to a marriage without love, to her, seemed worse than no marriage at all. The pain was too great; she cried inconsolably.

♥ ♥ ♥

Gareth stared down at the beautiful girl lying in the bed as he would a stranger. He had no idea why she was crying, only that she seemed truly miserable. Obviously, she was unhappy with his lovemaking for whatever reason. He felt hurt and withdrew into himself. Quickly dressing, he stiffened his spine and turned to her.

“I will see to your breakfast. Perhaps, we might be on the road by noon?” For a moment he was caught by the quicksilver of her eyes. He never knew what to expect with Madeline; she was so mercurial in her moods. Would he ever know any peace with such a wife?

Madeline did not answer but shook her head in misery, turning her eyes from her husband. “I will be ready whenever you wish.” She heard the door to the room slam hard and loud behind him and her sobbing continued.

 
Twenty-Four

Madeline’s first impression of Gareth’s estate was one of spaciousness. She liked the open country and the gently rolling hills. The land was a lush green in the golden light of early autumn. With the flocks of sheep and the small cottages of farmers dotting the landscape, Madeline with her artist’s eye, thought that it was a magnificent pastoral scene just waiting to be painted in watercolor.

The house was considerably nicer and larger then she had expected as well. The park was well-tended, and the landscaping manicured with care. Her first impression on seeing the interior of the house was that it was comfortable and well-maintained, without being ostentatious. The oak paneling impressed her; the balustrades were formed of flowing scrolls of acanthus. From the foyer, Gareth led her into a sunny drawing room with highly polished mahogany doors and a fireplace made of marble and inlaid in a dainty but aesthetic fashion. Over the mantle hung the portrait of a strikingly beautiful blond woman with brilliant blue eyes. It was easy to see the resemblance of the young woman to Gareth. Madeline thought to ask about the portrait, but then decided that it might be best to wait. This hardly seemed the proper time to ask questions of her new husband.

She wondered if Gareth’s younger sister could be responsible for the fine maintenance of the estate, for she knew as a soldier that he could rarely have been around enough to keep things in such good order. She found herself curious about Gwenda Eriksen, wondering just what sort of girl her new sister-in-law would be. Could the portrait over the mantle be of Gareth’s sister?

She was not to wait long to find out. As soon as they were through the door, the old butler, Yarber, went to find his mistress. Madeline decided that Gareth could not be too hard-hearted if he kept Yarber as a butler; the old man seemed quite feeble and his hearing none too good.

Two women walked into the drawing room following Yarber. Gareth greeted the younger one with a smile and she in turn hurled herself into his arms and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. He and the older woman merely exchanged a grave nod. Madeline surveyed both women thoughtfully. The younger was somewhat more youthful than herself, although her appearance at first glance was misleading. She was extremely tall, nearly as tall as Gareth; Madeline judged the girl to be around six feet. In fact, Madeline had never met such a large female before. She was also not very thin as tall girls were wont to be, but had a full bosom and rounded hips that made her look more mature than she was. But the face was young and very pretty. The eyes were as blue as Gareth’s but more topaz than sky blue and her hair was a dark honey blond rather than the flaxen color of his. She was not so fair as her brother was but her beauty was striking.

Madeline looked at the older woman in turn but had no idea whom she could be except possibly a governess or companion of sorts. Her gown, although well-cut, was plain in the extreme. Also, the older woman had rather a stern, forbidding countenance at first glance. Her hair was dark brown but streaks of gray were evident and it was pulled back from her nearly unlined face to form a severe bun at the nape of her slender neck. She was thin and flat-chested.

The two women, in turn, stared at her with as much avid interest and curiosity as she displayed toward them. Gareth took her hand and brought her toward them.

“Gwenda, Aunt Lydia, I wish you to welcome my wife, Madeline de Marnay, now Madeline Ericksen.” He then turned to her. “Love, this is my sister and my aunt.”

Madeline curtsied politely to the older woman and extended her hand to the younger. Gareth’s aunt regarded her with an austere expression while Gwenda smiled, her cheeks showing dimples similar to those of Gareth.

“This is such a surprise,” Gwenda exclaimed. “When Gareth wrote and told us that he was resigning his commission and returning home, we had no idea it was because he was getting married.”

“Quite a beauty you’ve found yourself, young man,” the older woman said to Gareth as she surveyed Madeline coolly. The voice was rather deep and throaty for a woman; she spoke with crisp authority. “I agree with Gwenda, neither of us ever expected that you would marry.”

“I hope you will make my bride feel welcome,” he said. There was steel in his voice. The remark seemed more addressed to his aunt than his sister, and it was made in the form of a command rather than a request.

“
Enchante
to meet you both,” Madeline said.

She was led upstairs to a small bedchamber. “This will be your room,” Gareth informed her. “It connects to the master bedroom which I took over as my own a long time ago. I shall not ask you to share it with me until you are ready. I do not wish to make you cry again; therefore, I will refrain from forcing my unwelcome attentions on you.”

He spoke to her in a stiff, formal manner, so coldly unemotional that she felt chilled to her marrow. “Do let me know when you are ready to become my wife.”

Suddenly, she felt very angry with him. How dare he accuse her of holding herself aloof from him when it was just the other way around! He was rejecting her and resting the blame upon her shoulders.

“You have chosen our arrangements. I seem to have no choice but to accept your accommodation. You have given me no decision to make of my own.”

Now he seemed as angry as she was, his eyes flashing with indignation. “Madeline, it is you who have chosen, not I. You have made your feelings regarding me all too painfully clear. I am trying to be considerate and that is why I shall not trouble you.”

When he left, she threw herself upon her bed and began to cry. She hardly heard the door open and someone walk in until a soft, sympathetic voice stirred her.

“Has my brother been quite the brute to you?”

Madeline quickly dried her eyes, not wanting to let Gwenda see the extent of her unhappiness.

“No, he’s made every effort to be considerate of me. He just told me so.”

Gwenda smiled sweetly. “Then why are you so sad?”

“Some things are best not talked about,” Madeline said in a quiet voice.

Gwenda sat down on the bed. “I have always wanted a sister. Should you want one too?” Her question was broached tentatively.

Madeline managed a reassuring smile. “Yes, I would certainly like a sister or a friend – or both. I’ve hardly had a friend close to my own age since I left France.”

Gwenda smiled happily, showing pearly white teeth that were small and even. “You can spend time with Aunt Lydia and myself. I’m certain Gar won’t mind overmuch.”

“No, I don’t think so either,” Madeline said gravely. She wished that he would mind, that he would want to spend his time with her, but she very much doubted it. In marriages where there was no love, husbands quickly divested themselves of their wives. She had seen it all too often among the French aristocracy. Only on formal occasions did husband and wife spend any time together. The thought deepened her mood of gloom.

“Where are you from?” Gwenda asked.

Madeline’s mind was forced to return to the present moment. “From France, but I am also half Scottish. I have family in the Highlands as well.”

“How exciting! I’ve never been anywhere but here. Gar promised to take me with him to London on my seventeenth birthday, but so far I’ve never been south of York. Tell me about France and Scotland, I want to know everything.”

They spent several hours lost in conversation as Madeline organized her clothing in an oak chest and a wardrobe that were in the small room. They opened the windows and the drapes and let the fresh country air sweep in. Madeline could not help but like her sister-in-law. Gwenda was such an open, friendly girl. They were almost of an age but Madeline felt centuries older. Gwenda was so innocent of the ways of the world. Her eyes were wide with interest as she asked question after question and listened with rapt interest to Madeline’s answers. Finally, Madeline grew weary and begged off to take a nap. Gwenda left her but with obvious reluctance.

“You will like it here,” Gwenda said before going. “And my brother really is a good sort of man. He’s always been most solicitous of me. I think he shall be toward you as well. Don’t mind that he’s strict sometimes; like Aunt Lydia, he truly means well.” She offered a sweetly reassuring hug.

Madeline had just settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes when there was a sharp rap at the door. Madeline assumed that it must be Gwenda finding some reason to return.

“Back so soon?” she asked, not bothering to open her weary eyes.

“It’s Lydia,” came the crisp reply.

Madeline immediately sat up and looked across the room.

“I had not meant to disturb you,” the older woman said.

“Quite all right,” she answered quickly.

Lydia paused, her hand pressing back against her hair. Madeline again noticed the spidery wisps of gray in her dark brown hair parted austerely down the middle and brought back to the nape of the neck in a tight bun. Her gown was of plain black cloth, unadorned except for a small, cameo at the neckline. It seemed that Gareth’s aunt deliberately dressed in a drab manner meant to make her look old and unattractive. She wondered at it.

“I wanted to know something of you but it can wait.”

“I have given Gwenda a great deal of conversation; certainly, you deserve some as well.”

“I only wanted to ask why Gareth married you. You see, my nephew never struck me as the sort of man to marry any woman, at least not after the dreadful incident which precipitated his joining the army.”

The directness of Lydia’s comment both surprised and embarrassed her, but she could be just as forthright. Unlike her Papa, she had not developed skill in the art of diplomacy or evasion.

“Madame, I fear the reason for this marriage is all too obvious. Gareth insisted that his child have a name when it is born. I am not as convinced as he that this marriage was wise since your nephew does not have the sort of feelings for me that I believe make for a good marriage.”

“Yet you married him anyway.” Lydia’s eyes were sharp and intense.

Madeline nodded. “It is not something I wish to discuss further, Madame. I am certain Gareth will tell you all that you wish to know.”

“Frankly, girl, I doubt that he would be so inclined. My nephew is not overly fond of me. The fact that I am even tolerated has much to do with Gwenda’s need for a female companion who can provide a steady, guiding influence upon her.”

“I don’t understand,” Madeline said in a confused voice.

“It is really quite simple. When the children’s mother met her tragic and untimely demise, Gareth was a mere lad of twelve and his sister not even a year in age. His mother had left the estate to him but he needed a guardian. It was part of her bitterness that she would not appoint his father as guardian. I volunteered to live with the children. The Duke is my younger brother, you see, and having no family of my own, nor any intention of ever marrying, I simply stepped in and took over. Gareth resented my presence, but there was no question that Gwenda needed me. Servants alone could not be expected to raise an infant, and Gareth was still a boy himself and a troubled one at that. Of course, he was forced to grow up most abruptly. His mother’s death was a terrible tragedy for him. After my brother married, she became severely despondent. Gareth took care of everyone including her. He was the man of the family. With his mother’s death and my coming into the house, he at least had the opportunity to get some proper schooling. I tried to relieve him to some extent of his burdens and responsibilities. But he was always a very serious lad with a strong sense of honor and duty.”

“Thank you for being so candid with me,” Madeline said.

“Not ‘t all. You see, I have a motive in that. I wish you to be just as honest with me. I dearly love my niece and nephew and want always to help them. I know Gareth quite well and recognize what a difficult man he can be, but he is also decent and generous. I could tell from the first that relations were strained between the two of you. I do hope you will give him a proper chance. He has his moods, but he has a fair mind in most matters.”

When Lydia had gone, Madeline lay back against the pillows and rested thoughtfully. What would come of this marriage between herself and Gareth? She did not know.

♥ ♥ ♥

Neither Lydia nor Gwenda had asked him about his marriage for which Gareth was grateful. He sat in the study looking over the accounts, realizing that his aunt had, as usual, done a good job of keeping the estate going properly. She had taken care of all the problems with the tenants in his absence while the stock was well-tended and the farm was running smoothly. He could have done little better himself.

Gwenda seemed to be blooming. Soon he must think in terms of finding a suitable match for his sister – something that troubled him almost as much as his marriage to Madeline. Many men would consider Gwenda too tall and possibly even too plump. She was a great beauty in his eyes, but her looks were not what the fashionable people favored. Of course, she would have the estate as her dowry portion and that should certainly help. Then again, there was the matter of parentage, he considered bitterly. He could not help but recall how cruelly the people of quality in London had cut him. He was not good enough to marry one of their daughters, only good enough to service their bored and jaded wives. He had promised to bring Gwenda to London, yet he dreaded it. She was such a lovely, innocent child. He had kept her in the country, ignorant of the ugly side of polite society. Perhaps with any luck, he might find her the son of a country squire, someone who would not care that she was a bastard.